This story reminds me of an incident when I was riding the bus, gabbing to a friend on my phone.

Me: “…so, after my first murder trial…”

Here I noticed that decent people were staring at me and apparently forming Opinions.

I continued, slightly louder.

Me: “…that I interpreted for, in my job as a court interpreter…”

Related:
Just Catching Up With The Soprano Family

One of my favorite retail memories is mostly only as a concept because of how cool of a moment it was. I have university-level (but only really just-passing level) French language knowledge, and sometimes I wonder if people like me with a second language dream will ever have a time when we can help out in just the right moment by translating between two strangers.

However, my moment to shine was actually a time when I got to translate from my native English… to English! I listen to a lot of BBC Radio 4 shows, and I really enjoy the variety of accents from different celebrities in comedy shows there, so I’ve gotten used to a bunch of the really thick accents, and I enjoy picking apart the patterns in each.

By some stroke of magic, while doing my rounds as a vendor at a retail chain one day, I came across two ladies who had super thick accents speaking to each other in English, each becoming increasingly frustrated. One had a really deep accent (I’m guessing loosely from the India region), and another had a very heavy Spanish accent; it seemed like as they got more and more frustrated, the more they defaulted to less enunciation and thus their heavier native accents.

The conversation here isn’t verbatim, just conceptually accurate. The broader context is that they were friends and were shopping as an experiment in participating in a mutual errand together, to get to know each other and their preferences better. Their argument was a friendly one, not a heated stranger tirade.

Lady #1: “I just can’t understand you!”

Lady #2: “I’m not sure what you are saying to me, but I only am trying to tell you which aisle we should go to next! It’s nothing to yell about. Why are you yelling?”

Lady #1: “Your accent is so thick I can only just barely make out one or two words! Speak slower!”

Lady #2: “Maybe if we stop yelling, we could sound it out. You speak too fast when you are yelling!”

Me: “What’s the issue here?”

Lady #1: “Can you understand her? She is talking too fast for me to understand.”

Me: “Sure. It’s like a really heavy Indian accent, but I like it. It’s very nice.”

Lady #2: “She is yelling, so it is tough for me to understand her.”

Me: “Oh! Well, I can understand you both fine. What is it you want to say?”

Duh, they’d just told me.

Lady #2: “Will you tell her she is yelling for no reason? I was only trying to say which aisle we should go to next. But she is yelling for some reason, and I can’t understand her when she is yelling.”

Lady #1: “I need her to speak slower! When she speaks so quickly, I can’t understand her.”

Me: *To [Lady #2]* “She is confused because you are speaking too fast, and she can understand you better when you speak slower.”

Me: *To [Lady #1]* “She is confused about why you are yelling, and she can’t understand you when you’re yelling. She only wanted to say which aisle the both of you should visit next, which isn’t something to yell about.”

Lady #1: *Yelling* “Well, why didn’t you just say so?!”

Me: “She did, and you’re still yelling.”

[Lady #2] grinned.

Lady #1: “Oh! Sorry. I have a short temper sometimes I guess.” *Smiles*

Lady #2: *To me, smiling* “Thank you!”

Me: “I’ll tell you what. I am trying to learn sign language in order to speak in passing with a deaf guy who works in the back, just to learn a few things to say hello and small chit-chat. One of the words I learned recently is ‘slowly’.”

I made the sign for “slow”, running my right hand over the back of my left hand from knuckles to past my wrist, as if petting it gently.

Me: “Maybe that could help you two.”

Lady #1: *In a calmer tone* “That’s not a bad idea.”

[Lady #1] grabbed [Lady #2]’s arm and petted it slowly.

Me: “That’s not what I meant…”

[Lady #2] shushed me and waved me off with her other arm, and then she looked into [Lady #1]’s eyes dreamily.

I made my escape to do my rounds. They later tracked me down again to ask me what each was saying and explained the broader context. Alas, I never saw them again after that visit, but good times.

At my former job (the source of this story), I received an assignment to translate the text for the website of a then-new department of one of the government ministries.

A week or so later, I heard back from the customer, who was complaining about the quality of the translation and had attached a document showing the changes they’d made to my text.

It was an absolute mess, and I wrote back telling them so (diplomatically, of course). Their response?

Customer: “Well, the person who made these changes knows English like a native! She spent four years in New York!”

Related:
Not Flexible On The Racism Thing

I am working as a sign language interpreter in a classroom. I’ve been working with one particular student since she was five years old, and it’s been a pleasure to see her growing up and keeping pace with her classmates.

The teacher has just gotten a new aide: a stern, older-looking woman who — and I don’t mean to stereotype — looks like she’s stepped through a timewarp from the 1950s. She immediately takes a dislike to me, and she seems to favor specific students using the Ayn Rand method of education.

After a few days, I notice that [Teacher’s Aide] is standing between me and my student, blocking her view. It’s not a huge classroom, so she must not have noticed. I move aside and restore my line of sight with my student… and then [Teacher’s Aide] moves again.

Me: “Excuse me. You’re blocking my view with [Student].”

Teacher’s Aide: “Yes, I know.”

Me: “So, you’re doing it on purpose?”

Teacher’s Aide: “I’m doing it so that she doesn’t rely on you too much. She can’t be expecting to have interpreters every step of her adult life, so it’s in her interest to learn this now.”

Me: “She won’t be learning anything if she can’t understand what’s being taught!”

The teacher steps over and asks what’s going on.

Me: “[Teacher’s Aide] is purposefully blocking my view with [Student].”

Teacher’s Aide: “I’m not too sure what [Student] is doing here in the first place! She should be with her own kind, learning at an appropriate pace—”

Me: “Her own kind?!“

I admit that I said that way too loud. The children start murmuring.

Teacher: “[Teacher’s Aide], stop blocking [Student]’s view of [My Name]. We will discuss this further after class!”

The rest of the day went by unhindered.

After school, I returned to the classroom to speak to [Teacher]. She told me that [Teacher’s Aide] was a substitute and would not be coming back, based on her outdated opinions not just in [Teacher]’s class but in every class she had “assisted” that day. Good riddance!

The client here is an office ward of a big city in Japan.

Client: “Could you do this pamphlet translation? How much will it cost?”

Me: “Yes. It will cost [amount] per character.”

Client: “Our budget is very small. Can you do it for [smaller amount] per character?”

Yeah, yeah, I know. You have the money, but you don’t want to give it to freelance translators who are working on their sofas while watching TV.

Me: “Okay. As it is the first time I’m working with you, I’ll accept this time — and this time only.”

Client: “By the way, after the translation, you also have to check the pamphlet for layout problems.”

Me: “Fine, but that will cost additional fees. It’s not included in the translation work.”

Client: “If your translation has to be revised, will that cost fees, as well?”

In Japan, there is always someone in the office who likes to “revise” translations — or, in other words, “mess it up”.

Me: “If there is a problem with my translation, no. But if someone in your office revises correct parts of my translation, I will charge you to retranslate, yes.”

Client: “Okay, thank you.”

Me: “Does that mean I’m hired, or…?”

Radio silence. Good riddance.