the word’s worth: Coming to terms with deadlines

By Michele A. Berdy

Published: August 1, 2012 (Issue # 1720)

Ñðîê: term, duration, deadline

According to the great etymologist Max Fasmer, when ancient Russians wanted to cut a deal, they said something like ñúðåêó, which meant “I agree.” Ñúðîêú was what they agreed to — ñîãëàøåíèå (agreement).

Unfortunately, Fasmer is silent on whether these ancients shook hands, bumped foreheads or just celebrated the deal with some home brew.

In any case, over time ñðîê has narrowed in meaning. It is no longer the agreement, but just part of it — its duration or the moment the agreement is up. And the notion of agreement itself has become abstract or disappeared altogether.

Today, ñðîê is any kind of time period, like ñðîê àðåíäû (term of rental agreement), ñðîê äåéñòâèÿ äîãîâîðà (period of contract validity), ñðîê õðàíåíèÿ ïðîäóêòà (product shelf life) or ñðîê ñëóæáû îáîðóäîâàíèÿ (equipment service life).

It’s the word used to describe a term in office: Ìåäâåäåâ ðåøèë íå èäòè íà âòîðîé ñðîê (Medvedev decided not to run for a second term). It’s also the word used to describe a jail term, which is the source of endless puns, particularly in newspaper headlines: Ëîíäîíöû äàëè ìýðó Äæîíñîíó âòîðîé ñðîê (Londoners sentenced Mayor Johnson to a second term).

But ñðîê can also refer to the moment a contract is up or a piece of work is due. Here there is a lot of linguistic variety. For example, you can say ê ñðîêó (by the deadline) or â ñðîê (in the time period), both of which mean “on time.” Ñòðîèòåëè ñäàëè îáúåêò â ñðîê (The builders finished the structure on time).

When a client asks me to do a translation, I always ask: Êîãäà êðàéíèé ñðîê? (When is the deadline?). The answer is often, of course: Â÷åðà (Yesterday).

Deadlines are often described in the plural in Russian, even if you are talking about just one: ß íå óñïåâàþ ïî ñðîêàì! (I can’t meet the deadline!) Ìû âûïîëíèëè ðàáîòó â íàïðÿæ¸ííûå ñðîêè (We finished the work on a really tight schedule).  êðàò÷àéøèå ñðîêè is what Americans call ASAP. Ìû ãàðàíòèðóåì äîñòàâêó ïèñüìà â Àìåðèêó â êðàò÷àéøèå ñðîêè (We guarantee postal delivery to America in the shortest time possible).

When a job is really urgent, you can call it àâðàë or àâðàëüíàÿ ðàáîòà. The origins of the word àâðàë might surprise native English-speakers. Most Russian dictionaries assert that it is a corruption of the English “over all” and state that this phrase is shouted on a ship to mean “all hands on deck.” Oddly, in all these dictionaries “over” is defined as íàâåðõ (up, above), yet no English nautical dictionary I can find supports this.

More authoritatively, in movies when a ship hits rough water or is under attack, the captain never shouts “Over all!” Even Fasmer is rather reticent on this topic, but he does cite the Dutch “overal” (defined as “everywhere”) as the source. Given that Peter the Great founded the Russian Navy after his Dutch adventure, this sounds more likely to me.

In any case, when your boss or client shouts “Àâðàë!” it means, “Get cracking!”

When I ask a translation client — in a squeaky, pathetic voice — Ýòî ñðî÷íî? (Is it urgent?), I’m always happy to hear: Íåò, íå ñðî÷íî (No, it’s not urgent). Íå ãîðèò (There’s no hurry; literally “it’s not burning”). Òåðïèò (It can wait). Áåç ñïåøêè (No rush). Êîãäà ïîëó÷èòñÿ (Whenever you can).

I’ll bump foreheads over that kind of deal any day.

Michele A. Berdy, a Moscow-based translator and interpreter, is author of “The Russian Word’s Worth” (Glas),

a collection of her columns.