Things were very quiet at the store yesterday. We had quite a few homeschool families in, and it was good to have such a quiet day that I could help them thoroughly.
We also had a Spanish-speaking customer. I am usually pretty good with Spanish-speaking customers. I can understand quite a bit of Spanish, and all those years as an ESL teacher have given me a lot of experience with communicating with people who don’t speak English well, but this was not a successful communicative experience.
“Laminas?” she said when she came in.
I imagined that she meant “laminating,” so I agreed with her and indicated the laminating machine. She stared at me for a moment and then said, “Cuantas” or maybe “Quantas” or something like that. I decided that this might mean “How much does it cost?” and told her “Fifty cents a foot” while holding my hands 12″ apart.
For future reference, “laminas” and “quantas” or something like that does not mean “Do you have a laminator and if so what does it cost?”
The lady looked distressed. After a bit she murmured, “animales” to herself. She was looking down and trying out words, as though hoping to think of the English equivalent. She was not speaking to me at all. I eavesdropped, in hopes of finding some clue to what she needed.
“Do you need pictures of animals?” I asked. “Tarjetas?” I believe that “tarjetas” means “flashcards,” and she looked as though I might be on the right track, so I showed her some animal flashcards. She nodded her head in a dubious manner.
“Mas grandes?” I said, thinking she might want a bulletin board set. She frowned and shook her head. “Vaca,” she said, “I don’t know….”
“Cow,” said I with confidence. She of course had no idea that I had understood “vaca” since she didn’t know what “cow” meant. That is probably not how you spell it anyway.
“Umm… vaca… moo”
“Si, si, cow.”
I felt that we were getting somewhere at last. Resisting the temptation to switch to French, since I have no idea how to say “farm” in Spanish, I took her over to look at farm animal bulletin boards. She continued to look distressed.
“Ummm… mamiferos?” she said, or something that sounded like that.
“Mammals?”
“Yes, mammals!”
At this point, she added Spanish words that seemed pretty clearly to mean “vertebrates” and “invertebrates.” I, feeling that we were getting somewhere at last, nodded and added, “Insectos? Quadrupedos? Animales de todo … uh… sortas?” This pretty well used up my Spanish vocabulary, except “Yo te amo,” which didn’t seem likely to help.
The lady agreed with me, in a relieved fashion.
I opened the box of animal flashcards to show her that the pictures did indeed include animales of all kinds, and she bought them. I did not, however, feel confident that this was what she wanted. I asked her, “Este es que usted neccessitas?” which I hoped she would understand to mean, “Is this what you wanted?”
She stared at me some more. I brought up Babelfish on the computer and tried to convey, through English, telepathy, and mime, that she should just say something in Spanish for heaven’s sake, and I could type it in and get a translation.
“No hablo espanol,” I said, “pero yo comprendo un poco.” This might well have meant that though I didn’t speak Spanish, I could understand some. But maybe not.
She smiled kindly and left with her flashcards.
I must go to traffic school today. If you always read my blog and have total recall, you will know that I got a ticket in August, and going to traffic school will keep me from having it on my record. Fortunately.
This seems like a waste of good sewing time, and I don’t suppose I can take my knitting. However, I am going to wear my Pampered Chef shirt and see whether I can book a show with a fellow criminal. This will, I think, add a sense of purpose to the undertaking.
Good luck at traffic school! [Just a suggestion: Don’t try to book a Pampered Chef show with a law enforcement officer.]
And think what good luck it is that Spanish isn’t a tone language….
I have (in the past) thought I understood more spanish that I actually do — especially when communicating with Maria. My natural inclination is to fall back into French which is funny because I haven’t really used French in more than 20 years. French or Dutch words always pop into my head before Spanish ones, though. (Having been an exchange student in Belgium, of course).
Oh! And at one point my dad had my mother and my brother in traffic school OR ELSE his insurance would have been cancelled. My mom received something like 3 speeding tickets in less than 6 months and my brother was, well, a teenage boy. My mother doesn’t think that story is funny AT ALL.
If you think that’s bad, I once made a deaf lady storm out of the store in tears. I’m still not certain what I did wrong.
And I had no idea Roald Dahl wrote ghost stories.
You are now talking with John, the library page. Though it’s nothing glamorous, it’s kind of flattering to know that another page and I were picked out of 200 applicants. I’m trying really hard not to be smug, because I’m pretty sure it was God tossing me a bone.
I leafed through Switch Bitch earlier this year. I grew up reading his books, so I’m still unaccustomed to seeing him as anything other than a writer of children’s books. Have you read his creative nonfiction Going Solo? It’s my favorite.
My mom cries when she sings sometimes. Does that count as success or should I be worried about her? :]