On a quiet Saturday in early September, the Globe and Mail's Weekender puzzle asks its solvers to hear familiar phrases in a new key, as though ordinary sayings had been quietly reassigned to the trades and professions we rely on every day. The columnist who unpacks it does so with the patience of someone who remembers being confused by these same riddles, guiding readers past the traps that puzzle-setters lay for the unwary. Her commentary is part celebration of a playful craft and part gentle instruction in how language can mislead, and how it can be trusted again once its tricks are underst
Globe and Mail Crossword Breakdown: 'Transferable Skills' Puzzle Turns Job Phrases into Punny Answers
There are no tricks here, just good old-fashioned wordplay.
Why does a pun puzzle get a whole column?
Because the puns hide the structure. Seven clues open with "The successful ... had," and you can't solve them cold. You need the crossings first.
So solvers who do all the Acrosses first are stuck?
That's the columnist's guess, not a measured fact. The piece says most solvers would likely be baffled on a first pass, but nobody surveyed them.
What's the appeal of the theme itself?
Each answer is an everyday phrase doing double duty. GUT INSTINCTS for a gastroenterologist, PARTING GIFTS for a hairstylist.
And the question-mark clues?
They signal a joke. Bread boxes turn out to be ATMS, and Viral property really means CONTAGION.
Worth noting the columnist says there was a time when viral could only mean illness. That's a view about language, offered as color, not data.
How does the cryptic clue work?
R from "last of major," then "acquires" tells you to put letters inside another set. The article doesn't give the final answer.
Right, so we can't confirm the solution here. We only know the mechanisms the columnist describes.
Der Puls
- A puzzle titled Transferable Skills stalls newcomers at its very first theme clue, leaving solvers unsure what the grid is asking of them.
- Punny theme answers like GUT INSTINCTS and EASY PICKINGS reframe familiar phrases as workplace abilities, sparking a moment of delighted recognition.
- Misdirecting clues such as Bread boxes? for ATMS and Viral property? for CONTAGION turn everyday words against the solver until the trick clicks.
- The columnist sets out a cryptic challenge at 29A, breaking its charade-and-container mechanics into steps a beginner can follow.
- The column is set to return weekly, offering newcomers a steady path toward mastering cryptic wordplay.
On a quiet Saturday in early September, the Globe and Mail's Weekender puzzle asks its solvers to hear familiar phrases in a new key, as though ordinary sayings had been quietly reassigned to the trades and professions we rely on every day. The columnist who unpacks it does so with the patience of someone who remembers being confused by these same riddles, guiding readers past the traps that puzzle-setters lay for the unwary. Her commentary is part celebration of a playful craft and part gentle instruction in how language can mislead, and how it can be trusted again once its tricks are understood.
The first theme clue of the Globe and Mail's Saturday Weekender for September 5 sits at 23A, and it offers a solver almost nothing to grab onto: "The successful server had ..." Most people working through the Across clues in order will not know what to make of it, and neither will the six clues that follow in the same pattern.
The puzzle is called Transferable Skills, built by Ontario constructor Jeffrey Martinovic, whose write-up appears in the weekly column Puzzle Pieces. The gimmick comes into focus once some Down entries are filled in. Familiar phrases are recast as qualities a professional needs: the successful server had WAITING GAME, the salesperson had PERFECT PITCH, and the gastroenterologist had GUT INSTINCTS. The columnist treats it as a welcome palate cleanser, a straightforward puzzle built on silliness and old-fashioned wordplay after a run of trickier constructions. Martinovic says the idea had been on his mind for years, and he thanked a collaborator for pushing him to make it the best it could be.
The column also highlights non-theme clues that reward a closer reading. At 79D, Bread boxes? plays on bread as slang for money and gives ATMS, and like real bread boxes, you can only take out what you put in. At 57D, Viral property? means exactly what it says, a property of actual viruses, for CONTAGION. Each clue is a lesson in reading a question mark as a warning not to take words literally.
The column closes with its cryptic clue of the week, at 29A: Doctor certainly acquires last of major appliances (6). It combines a charade, a container and a letter-selection device. "Last of major" likely yields R, and "acquires" signals that one set of letters goes inside another. Newcomers are pointed to Fraser Simpson's guide, and the column promises more step-by-step explanations each week.
The first theme clue in the Globe and Mail's Saturday Weekender for Sept. 5 sits at 23A, and it gives a solver almost nothing to hold: "The successful server had ..." Most people working through the Across clues in order, the column's writer suspects, will not know what to do with it, or with the six clues that follow in the same mold.
The puzzle is called Transferable Skills. It was built by Jeffrey Martinovic, an Ontario constructor the columnist credits with a seemingly endless supply of creative theme ideas. The write-up appears in Puzzle Pieces, the weekly column on the Weekender and the Weekender Cryptic, and it is full of spoilers by design.
The gimmick only comes clear once some Down entries are in the grid. Each theme answer is a familiar phrase recast as a quality a professional would need to succeed. The successful server had WAITING GAME at 23A. The salesperson had PERFECT PITCH at 34A, and the locksmith had EASY PICKINGS at 46A. At 65A the clothing designer had TIMELY FASHION, and at 83A the hairstylist had PARTING GIFTS. The gastroenterologist at 101A had GUT INSTINCTS, and the chess player at 113A had SMOOTH MOVES.
The columnist treats this as a palate cleanser. Recent Weekender themes involved removing letters, turning parts of words vertical and letting entries run off the edge of the grid. The writer enjoys those tricky constructions, but welcomed a straightforward puzzle built on silliness, with no tricks and only old-fashioned wordplay. Martinovic's own note says the idea had been on his mind for years. He usually builds "word architecture" themes, so a punny one feels special to him. He thanked Jess for pushing him to keep working and make it the best it could be.
The column also singles out several non-theme clues, with a reminder that a question mark means the clue should not be read literally. At 79D, [Bread boxes?] has nothing to do with kitchen containers. It plays on bread as slang for money, and the answer is ATMS. The columnist notes that, like real bread boxes, you can only take out what you put in.
At 32A, [Washers' dryers?] might suggest matched laundry appliances, but it simply means what a person washing something needs for drying: TOWELS. At 57D, [Viral property?] works on the word's modern sense. Once it would have meant only illness, and now it equally suggests memes and internet trends. The joke is that the clue means exactly what it says, a property of actual viruses, so the answer is CONTAGION. At 67D, [Teeny tiny?] is answered by LIL, a word that is itself teeny.
The column closes with its cryptic clue of the week, from the same Sept. 5 puzzle. The columnist points newcomers to Fraser Simpson's guide, How to solve The Globe's cryptic crossword. Recent weeks introduced the charade clue, which splits an entry into parts and clues each one, and showed that clues often combine mechanisms, as with last week's charade with a reversal.
This week's clue is at 29A: [Doctor certainly acquires last of major appliances (6)]. It joins a charade, a container and a letter-selection device. The misdirection is that "major appliances" reads like a single unit, but the words must be separated because one is used in the wordplay. "Last of" commonly means to take the final letter, so "last of major" likely gives R. Next comes "acquires," a common container, or insertion, indicator, meaning one set of letters goes inside another. Similar indicators include "takes on," "hugging" and "assumes," and the same idea can be phrased the other way round with words like "surrounding," "broken up by" and "lying about."
The column runs weekly, and newcomers to cryptics can expect more of these step-by-step explanations.
Bemerkenswerte Zitate
The puzzle grew from an idea he had been thinking about for years, and punny themes feel special compared with his usual word-architecture ones.— Jeffrey Martinovic, constructor