Telecommuting Vs. Regular Commuting, Round 1

I have already mentioned that I have given notice at my (present) employer so that I can work for somebody else. Again. It appears my dream of working in my pajamas on a full-time basis will be put on hold.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe wearing pajamas all day, every day, is only fun for the first few days.

All I know is that at least, if I was working at home, I could accidentally flick a piece of fruit behind my desk and not care about getting stuck under my desk trying to reach it. Because there would be no witnesses.

But in the 9-5 world, oh, too many witnesses.

Nine hundred and ninety-nine pieces

This was not the post I wanted to write.

I wanted the cyber equivalent of a dance of joy. As I found out yesterday, the score on my written test (passing is 70%; I scored 95%) qualified me to take the oral test for court interpreters later this month.

After doing an Internet search, I found an article with tips for preparing for the oral test. It consists of three parts: sight translation, consecutive translation, and simultaneous translation. The article suggested reading news and practicing translating these. So far, so good.

So, I log on to cnn.com. By now, we all now that on Monday, a truck driver went into a one-room schoolhouse in an Amish community and shot several young schoolgirls. For some reason, I logged on to an interview with an official describing the events. And I tried to interpret, in a simultaneous fashion, the way the articles describe. If you find a word you don’t understand, skip it and move on. Don’t add, don’t leave out information. Be professional and keep an emotional distance.

Even if your heart breaks into 999 pieces.

From PR: They are so last month!

“They are so last month!”

The following words were said by my little sister (age 10).

Some context:

• These words were uttered in English. She and I were chatting in the car… in Spanish.
• The topic? Why Barbie dolls are not as cool as Bratz dolls.

Oy.

I am now going to read El Nuevo Día.

My next gig (marginally related to translation)

Tomorrow I will be going on a trip, where I will be working as an escort interpreter for my most demanding customer: my daughter.

AMG (not her real name) is autistic. She speaks no Spanish. Her English skills are limited. She can ask for juice, cereal, cookies, peanut butter, and other things. She can say mommy and daddy and identify assorted body parts. She can giggle, howl in indignation, shed tears of frustration… all in a five-minute span. She has trouble sustaining eye-contact and flaps her wrists when excited. She will give you hugs and kisses. While she does not speak much, she still communicates. It is my job as her mother to explain her language to the outside world.

She is not paying me though. I guess you can’t quite write up an invoice for “all the love in the world”.

Things to do in Puerto Rico

Your average tourism guide can point out great things to do in Puerto Rico. Beaches, nightspots, cuisine, shopping… you name it. However, I suspect that at most, I might go to the beach a couple of times and perhaps eat some mofongo.

While my trip is not exactly a working vacation, I would like for it to be somewhat productive. Below is a list of things I would like to accomplish while over there:

1. Pay attention to the way people speak, and in particular, the jargon. Consider preparing a glossary to post at proZ.com. (And hopefully, avoid losing my notes along the way).
2. Read El Nuevo Día every day. Not just the comics, but the real news.
3. Learn to knit.
4. Bond with family members, particularly the nieces I haven’t met yet and my younger sister.
5. Assist with household chores.
6. Eat sensibly (OK, not realistic).
7. Discuss my freelance work with anybody who asks, and a few who don’t.
8. Visit a bookstore and find something to supplement my reference library.

Speak s-l-o-w

Every day (except last week) I get a silly coffee drink at a nearby coffeehouse/performance space/insert your own use. This place has recently employed a lovely young woman who, it turns out, was raised in a major city in Latin America by her missionary parents. She speaks Spanish.

Whenever she sees me, we make small talk. In Spanish. Our different accents(her delicate, melodic one; my machine-gun delivery) sometimes represent a challenge. I must fine tune my ear and make sure to articulate clearly and slow down.

I wonder how I will sound next month, when I go back home to Puerto Rico and I get to speak in Spanish every single second.

Odd combinations

In another collision with my interest in crocheting: the following was found on the label of Red Heart Tiki Yarn:

Combine with other yarns! Cosechadora con otros hilos!

The section in italics was the Spanish translation for the English phrase. EXCEPT… if you translate it back to English:

Harvester with other yarns!

Confidential to a hacker

Dear hacker:

Yes, I am talking to you. The one who hacked into my e-mail account and sent 42 messages to 800 people, forcing my ISP to block both my e-mail accounts (personal and business) AND my husband’s. I realize that I will never know your identity. I doubt you targeted me personally. To you I was just another randomly generated e-mail address. You probably don’t think you are evil. I also know that compared to victims of identity theft, I got off easy.

None of this changes the fact that you are a solemne desgraciado, malnacido, bueno para nada and a sinvergüenza. May you live in interesting times.

(Note to my non-Spanish-speaking readers: you do not need to know the language to know what the gist of my words.)

Main Week (let me explain)

As you may know, Easter (whether you observe it or not) is tomorrow. Yesterday was Good Friday.

Having lived in the United States for almost 12 years, I think I have finally adjusted to the way people observe this holiday (egg hunts, Easter baskets, chocolate bunnies), as opposed to the way it is observed in my homeland (government holiday on Good Friday a.k.a. Viernes Santo, processions of people reenacting the Passion, religious programs on TV, a beach trip for some).

I received an e-mail this week from somebody in Central America. The message ended with the sender’s good wishes for me “durante esta Semana Mayor” (emphasis and boldface mine). Semana Mayor literally stands for Main Week. It took me a while to figure out that he was referring to what I had always called the Holy Week.

"How was your day?" (includes alternate ending)

Every day, my husband (codename: Conan) picks me up after work. We chat. I ask about his day. His responses are brief. As a city employee, “Conan” deals with the public every day. Most members of the public act right, but every so often, there is somebody who fails to observe basic standards of behavior. His own method of coping with these unpleasant incidents is to summarize his workday as “Best forgotten” or “Ah, it’s over”. It seems to work for him.

In my particular day job, I sit behind a computer screen all day, with some interruptions to visit the vending machine. There is no interaction with the public and very little with other humans. I translate. I proofread. I read and answer e-mail. Rarely, I get a work-related phone call. The best days are those when I have an absorbing project to occupy my time.

“And how was your day?”, Conan asks me.

What I wanted to say:
“This project I had been working for two weeks? Remember, 51 pages? Well, I tried exporting it using my DVX program, but apparently, I placed the formatting codes wrong or something. ‘Cause it kept coming out at 3 pages! Can you believe that nonsense? I finally figured it out. I fixed the codes, and now we have a 52-page chart!”

What I ended up saying:
“Eh.“