I have been an interpreter for some time now: more than 6 months. Since I have been doing this job, I have come up with many interesting tales to tell, but I have never done so publicly for several reasons. First, it’s a tiring job. How eager can one be to write about job-related stuff when you are just too happy to have ended your shift and be able to disconnect from everything? Second, I wouldn’t sign with my own name. Even though I trust that my writing any of the things I plan to write will not be against any confidentiality laws, there’s always someone who doesn’t understand or is too tightly wound. I would never fail to meet the interpreter’s code of ethic, and my readers will see that.
Those are only some of the reasons I have waited over half a year (!) to do this. Until now, my experiences have served me as party and group conversation and to make myself seem more interesting than I really am. But I have noticed how I forget my stories, the same way one forgets good jokes heard here and there.
I am a work-at-home over-the-phone interpreter. You will soon find out it’s not as idyllic as it seems. The telephone rings and I answer; on the other line, I can have a bank representative, a welfare case worker, an emergency line employee, a rep for water, electricity, telephone, cable, gas… They all have something in common: they are in the United States, speak English and need to take care of a Spanish-speaking client. They say they will add the Spanish-speaker to the line. The Spanish-speaker may or may not know what is happening. He also may be polite and patient, or not. He may be able to hear me, or not. I may hear him, or not. It may be an emergency, he may be desperate. One never knows. The gringo may be polite (generally) because he works at customer service. Mostly, it’s the people I am interpreting who are the spice of the call.
It’s the first time I put in writing what it means to be an interpreter since I started being one. In time, whoever reads me will notice that I have crossed feelings about my job. Sometimes, I hate it to death and literally scream when I hear that uber-annoying ring. Some other times, mostly when I am not actually working but just thinking about my job, I forget how unbearable it can be and I become very proud of what I do. The plain truth is that it is extenuating work that requires continuous use of the brain. Jobs that require continuous use of the brain are far more extenuating than those that require use of the body. I say this without pretensions. I have done several jobs of both types and I feel confident in my judgment.
Some of my funny experiences will seem to soften the impact of the work even if they really don’t. Some of my difficult experiences may not really be so. My only real use for this blog is to entertain myself and those who decide reading it is worth their while.
Those are only some of the reasons I have waited over half a year (!) to do this. Until now, my experiences have served me as party and group conversation and to make myself seem more interesting than I really am. But I have noticed how I forget my stories, the same way one forgets good jokes heard here and there.
I am a work-at-home over-the-phone interpreter. You will soon find out it’s not as idyllic as it seems. The telephone rings and I answer; on the other line, I can have a bank representative, a welfare case worker, an emergency line employee, a rep for water, electricity, telephone, cable, gas… They all have something in common: they are in the United States, speak English and need to take care of a Spanish-speaking client. They say they will add the Spanish-speaker to the line. The Spanish-speaker may or may not know what is happening. He also may be polite and patient, or not. He may be able to hear me, or not. I may hear him, or not. It may be an emergency, he may be desperate. One never knows. The gringo may be polite (generally) because he works at customer service. Mostly, it’s the people I am interpreting who are the spice of the call.
It’s the first time I put in writing what it means to be an interpreter since I started being one. In time, whoever reads me will notice that I have crossed feelings about my job. Sometimes, I hate it to death and literally scream when I hear that uber-annoying ring. Some other times, mostly when I am not actually working but just thinking about my job, I forget how unbearable it can be and I become very proud of what I do. The plain truth is that it is extenuating work that requires continuous use of the brain. Jobs that require continuous use of the brain are far more extenuating than those that require use of the body. I say this without pretensions. I have done several jobs of both types and I feel confident in my judgment.
Some of my funny experiences will seem to soften the impact of the work even if they really don’t. Some of my difficult experiences may not really be so. My only real use for this blog is to entertain myself and those who decide reading it is worth their while.
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