Lost And Hopeless In Translation

| Working | May 22, 2014

(I am on vacation in Mexico with my family. I speak decent Spanish; my brother speaks broken Spanish. A pretty woman in her mid-twenties runs the souvenir stand at our resort. While my brother goes to look at her merchandise, I overhear her offering to help him practice his Spanish. The entire conversation takes place in Spanish.)

Saleswoman: *obviously flirting* “What is your name?”

Brother: *concentrating too hard on his Spanish to notice the flirting* “My name is [Brother].”

Saleswoman: “What a nice name! Where are you from?”

Brother: “Um… I am from [Hometown].”

Saleswoman: “And how old are you?”

Brother: “I am… um… 15 years old.”

Saleswoman: *laughing* “No, you need to learn your numbers better. Count it out so you get it right.”

Brother: *counting in Spanish and on his fingers*  “11, 12, 13 ,14, 15. Yeah! 15!”

Saleswoman: *face falling* “15?”

Brother: “15!”

(He couldn’t figure out why I was laughing.)

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