“Ordeal”: A Protracted Definition
To begin with a terribly clichéd opening statement, the Oxford English Dictionary defines “ordeal” in the following way:
2. Anything which acts as a test, or severely tests character or endurance. Hence more generally: a painful, trying, or unhappy experience, esp. a protracted one.
This, I think, is a fair definition. But to truly understand this word, one should also look at its original definition:
1. Law. A practice of trial in which an accused person is subjected to a test, usually involving physical pain or danger, overcoming of which is taken as divine proof of innocence (freq. in ordeal by fire, etc.); (also) the right or prerogative of jurisdiction in a trial of this kind, together with the fees and profits thence accruing.
Yikes. Now we’re getting somewhere.
Now, you may be wondering why I am so interested in the definition of ordeal. Well, if we look at the first definition I mentioned, we see that, generally, an ordeal is a trying or unhappy experience. This, I feel, is close if not interchangeable with a “tale of woe.” But, I have other reasons for dedicating this entry to ordeal. I would personally like to extend the general definition of ordeal into a more specific context.
I think that anything that takes over five hours to complete should be automatically considered an ordeal. A plane trip, a car ride, an operation. Anything five hours or more = ordeal.
Furthermore, anything that normally takes a modest amount of time (certainly less than five hours) that, for some reason, takes a longer amount of time. To use a personal example, once I took my car to the car wash. This automated car wash usually only took five minutes of my time, but one day the car washer’s rollers stopped working in media res, and I was left sitting in my sudsy car for longer than the normal five minutes. In fact, it wasn’t until much later that day that I finally had a clean and dry car. Thus, an ordeal.
Finally, I think that the following should also be considered ordeals: trips to the DMV, trips to the dentist, delays at the airport, and the changing of tires. One caveat, however: if any of these things takes an inordinately short amount of time, it may not be considered an ordeal. For example: Once I went to the dentist and my appointment was cancelled. Why? Because my dental hygentist informed me that she had lost vision in her right eye. Ordeal averted!
So, in closing, ordeals no matter what the definition, usually suck. Please feel free to add any of your own definitions in the comments.
No related posts.
I don’t have another definition. I’d just like to add childbirth and applying to grad school as ordeals.
Ooh, childbirth, that’s a good one! Didn’t even think of that. Please excuse my phallocentrism
As far as applying to grad schools goes, I’m sorry yours has been an ordeal, especially since I had such an easy time applying to mine
Here is my addendum to your sarcastic definition of the word ordeal.
I am certain that from a very cynical/sarky point of view anything lasting over five hours in length must be considered an ordeal. However, most definitely, an ordeal could never be any task that requires no thought, effort or otherwise bother. The most blatant example being a good night’s sleep, which, while lasting over 5 hours for most of us, is not at all taxing, and thus does not act as a “test.” Any idiot can sleep.
Furthermore, as this is the sarky definition, I feel that you have left out an important point pertaining to tasks that, in actuality, take only a very brief time to complete, yet linger on as an unpleasant memory well after their completion.
This would expand the definition to include: an undecipherable glance from or incomplete conversation with one’s employer which remains unresolved;a near-avoidance of a swath of vomit whilst strolling past on the sidewalk;etc.
These events serve as reminders that we are not as in control of ourselves as much as we would like to be. We exist beyond our actions and ideas in the realm of the minds and actions of others, a realm which is often completely out of our control.
This unpleasantness permeates the entirety of our lives. Thus, from this, we can extrapolate that all of life is an ordeal.
But this is the sarky definition for the sarky dictionary.
Brian,
Thanks for the addendum! Yes, sleep is surely an exception to the five hour rule. However, I should add that I haven’t had a night of uninterrupted sleep in years, so for me, sleep is kind of an ordeal. But I’m sure I’m in the minority on this one. Maybe I should have that checked out.
I also like your statement that anything that lingers in the mind is an ordeal. Plus, I think vomiting of any kind should be considered an ordeal.
Even though I am quite pessimistic in my world view, I don’t think I can view all of life as an ordeal. I think I still have my moments of bliss. Then again, life will in fact be the death of me.
Perhaps your grad school experience was easy because there are fewer and fewer people applying to traverse the hallowed halls of librication. (That, my friend, is a new word.)
I would like to tell a tale of woe that combines a suggestion of the first comment with a humble contradiction of your statement, “…if any of these things takes an inordinately short amount of time, it may not be considered an ordeal.”
The Tale of the Smashed-Face baby:
My wife, Shawna, is tough woman. A mountain woman, you might say. She prefers to undergo the majority of her labor process at home. She has delivered all three of our children “naturally”, that being with no epidural. (Although, having witnessed all three, I hesitate to call the event “natural”.) At any rate, the birth of our first child was most certainly an ordeal, and that BECAUSE of it’s rapidity.
Shawna “labored” at home, quietly enduring contractions as they came, giving very little indication that she was having them at all. Finally, with a calm yet urgent tone, she said, “It’s time to go the hospital”. When we arrived my wife announced with a straight face, “I believe I’m having the baby very soon”. The nurses didn’t take her condition seriously, assuming her to be a typical, over-reacting new mother. They made her fill out many pages of paper work, most of which she completed on a chair while kneeling on the ground attempting to find some relief from the contractions. One nurse mistook her posture for fervent prayer. I assured her that had taken place on the car ride over.
After 20 minutes of this a nurse finally checked Shawna. I watched as the nurses eyes grew wide. With as calm a tone as she could muster, and through a very fake smile, she announced, “well, dear… you’re fully dilated.” Finally, Shawna was taken seriously and a flurry of activity followed. She was rushed into a room that resembled a bee hive. Doctors and nurses were rushing everywhere trying to get ready. After about 20 minutes of this, with Shawna all the while being told not to push and to “just wait a little longer”, she was finally told to push. After 5 minutes of pushing, little Megan arrived, healthy.
Well, sort of. When a baby travels that quickly through the birth canal, their face can be bruised, and Megan’s most certainly was. Her poor little face was yellow and lightly purple in some areas from bruising.
So, as you can see, I would certainly label this event an “ordeal”. But in this case it is because something that should take a 5 or 6 hours was reduced to less than 45 minutes. But I await your ruling, Mike. As the resident authority, and primary purveyor of tales thereof, I will accept your ruling in either direction as to whether this is a new category of “ordeal”: extreme rapidity where more time is normally required.
I’ll get Shawna to weigh in on the subject soon. Right now she has the three children (all under 4, I might) at Chucky Cheese for another small person’s birthday. This, in and of itself, could easily become an ordeal.
Ben,
This is a good one. On one hand, we have the birth of a child, which, by way of a recently added definition, should be called an ordeal. But on the other hand, the usually protracted event of childbirth was reduced to an extremely short amount of time.
I may have to confer with Shawna on this one. What does she think? In comparison to the births of your other children, was Megan’s birth significantly easier? If it was, it may not be an ordeal…for her.
It could, however, still be an ordeal for you. Obviously, you did not give birth, but I know that much preparation goes into preparing for birth. You probably had to pack bags for your hospital stay. And you had to drive to the hospital. And you probably had to reassure your wife that everything was going to be OK (unless you are Brian, in which case, your wife would be reassuring you while you frantically run around your apartment).
Ordeals are very subjective, it seems. So, I cannot faithfully claim either way to whether this was an ordeal or not. It is truly up to you, my friend. Besides, this is just a dumb blog written by some guy in California. What the heck do I know?