In a vibrant setting, two friends navigate a digital dilemma, their expressions revealing a blend of confusion and curiosity as they engage in a lively discussion about what they see on their phones. (dmitryag (123RF))
If you’ve ever tried to navigate between German and English in everyday conversation, you’ll know that words don’t just carry meanings—they carry entire cultures.
And nowhere is this more evident than in the sneaky world of polite phrases. What sounds friendly in one language might feel confusing—or even cold—in another.
Exhibit A: the beloved German phrase “Mal schauen.”
“Mal schauen.” Literally: “We’ll see.” But oh, how misleading that is.
To a German, this is a courteous non-commitment. A soft way of saying “probably not,” or “please don’t make me decide now.” It’s a verbal shrug, a gentle escape hatch.
To an American, however, it often sounds like a maybe. A real maybe. A hopeful, open-ended maybe.
Cue the tragedy: The American waits. The German forgets. The American is hurt. The German is confused. And neither understands why this perfectly polite exchange ended in awkward silence.
German communication is famously direct. Clarity is a virtue. “Politeness” in the German context often means honesty, sparing someone from false hope.
American politeness, meanwhile, thrives on pleasant ambiguity. It’s not about what you say, but how nicely you say it.
“Let’s do lunch sometime!” Translation: “We probably won’t.” But it feels good. It’s warm, it keeps the peace.
A German hears this and pulls out their planner: Next Tuesday? At 1 p.m.? I know a place. The American blinks: Wait, I was just being friendly!
Two perfectly nice people. Two perfectly opposite expectations.
Another classic pitfall:
An American says, “That’s interesting.” A German beams—They like my idea! But often, “interesting” is the American way of saying: That’s odd, maybe even dumb, but I’m being polite.
Meanwhile, a German says, “Das ist nicht schlecht.” Literally: “That’s not bad.” To a German, this is high praise. To an American, it sounds lukewarm at best.
Americans are champions of small talk. At the grocery store, the doctor’s office, even in elevators, friendly chatter is part of the social fabric. Germans, on the other hand, are suspicious of small talk. Why speak if there’s nothing to say?
So, when an American brightly asks, “How’s your day going?”
A German might answer honestly: “Well, I didn’t sleep much, the cat puked on the rug and I think my neighbor hates me.” The American smiles, frozen: I was just being polite.
Here’s another biggie. In the U.S., “yes” is often the start of a negotiation. In Germany, “no” is often the end of one.
American: “Could we maybe adjust this a little?” German: “Nein.” Silence.
The American waits for a follow-up. The German considers the matter closed. No offense meant. Just efficiency.
Woman in yellow raincoat taking picture of the landing plane copy space (petrunina (123RF))
The sentence “Let’s stay in touch” is a transatlantic time bomb. In American English, it’s a graceful goodbye. In German ears, it’s a sincere commitment. Sometimes, both sides walk away thinking a plan has been made....Only one is still waiting.
“Mal schauen” is German code. It’s polite. It’s indecisive. It’s a placeholder. It can mean:
“If I feel like it later.”
“Let’s not talk about this right now.”
“I want to say no but feel bad about it.”
Or even, “You should know that this is a no.”
But Americans don’t speak in code. They speak in vibes. Which is how confusion sneaks in.
Luckily, laughter is universal. And the mishaps that arise from all these mini mistranslations are often pretty funny.
Like when an American hears “I’ll think about it” from a German and assumes a decision is coming—only to learn months later that the answer was always “no.” Or, when Germans try to decode the mystery of “You’re fine,” which in American English can mean “stop worrying,” “you’re in the way” or “this is awkward,” depending entirely on tone.
Then there’s the German word “doch”: a magical particle that can flip the meaning of any sentence. To American ears, it sounds like verbal sorcery.
Germans: “You can’t say that sentence without ‘doch.’” Americans: “What even is ‘doch’?”
Every idiom, every phrase carries with it a story about how we relate to others. Do we say what we mean? Or do we protect people’s feelings? Is clarity more important than comfort?
There’s no right or wrong. Just different defaults.
And those of us who live and love between cultures know learning the language is only the first step. The real magic happens when you learn the meaning behind the meaning. When you can smile at a “maybe,” raise an eyebrow at an “interesting,” and nod knowingly when someone says, “mal schauen.”
Because then, you’re not just translating words, you’re translating worlds.
