How is it day 12 already?
Well, I got up later than I usually set for myself today, and still got to the bus on time. I think we just managed to hit the rush hour, but ya gal still managed to zip into a new bakery, and get to work at just before 8:50!
So I make a hot chocolate and set to work. On my pain viennois and extremely necessary and divine chausson de pomme. Then we actually start work at 9.05. The point is I was there in the case that someone bursts into the office with a life or death matter concerning stationery or electrics or access or whatnot.
Oh, didn’t I say? Today I was In Charge. My boss was working from home in the morning, and not working in the afternoon.
I received four parcels today – two of stationery, one of electronics, and another for startup. Various postmen and couriers called four times in total that morning.
I had a few things to report to my boss on the state of affairs, some questions, and then she asks me, “Can I call you?”. Oh?
Well, I’m given a translation to do, urgently, 3 pages, of rather clunky legal-jargon. A policy.
Now, my company was not set up by English-speakers, but the company’s language is officially English. I’m supposed to translate this from English to French. Yikes. I’d much rather the other way around.
So I start looking at those pages and then slam on the breaks – “Honey, I say, we need CONTEXT. For any good translation, you need the full picture.”
This is where the Eastern European origins of this company become obvious. I paced through the document, highlighting instances of missed definite articles, non-grammatical punctuation, and calques. Some of it I thought sounded French, and others, my word, were almost certainly Russian. Ohoho. Cue the rolling up of sleeves and smug expression. Fingers on the keyboard. Criticism flows. Well, I can’t translate an inadequate translation now, can I?
Half-way through was lunch. I ran downstairs to the kitchen, wolfed down my salad, feeling proud that this time I had brought a lunchbox of my own homemade goods. I did have time for a short chat with my colleagues, then I rushed back upstairs to my translation.
When I had finished ripping into the efforts of the poor person miles away in some Swiss office, I, with poise, began my own translation.
And then I realised, Oo-er. Aha. Ha-hum. This is more difficult than I thought.
I spent 3-and-a-bit hours doing my best on 3 paragraphs. I was juggling with terms. My adamant decision to use écriture inclusive, when I am definitely no expert in this, was driving me nuts. The legal jargon must have been mentioned somewhere, I’m sure, in Dante’s Divine Comedy.
I swallow my judgement wholeheartedly. I hope some Frenchperson will have mercy on my soul.
Very important life advice: Before you judge, look at yourself.
Something I read once somewhere said, as you judge someone, say “They are [insert supposedly inexcusable fault], just like me.” I don’t think I’ve ever read a more powerful technique. It humbles. It makes you work on yourself, and give people a bit of space.
Oh, and second cool technique that I personally discovered today?
The Done list
It’s like a to-do list, but you write what you’ve done, after you’ve done it. Mine today was quite long. It filled up a long Post-It page. I have small writing. There were about 20 things on there. I didn’t *just* translate. I looked to stock and state and helped my colleagues, too. Did I feel satisfied looking at it? Yes. I think I might make one every day.
A friend of mine who works in the same company checked up on me today. “I’m managing. Literally,” I said. “So you are organising a party in the place?” he asked. “Who told you?”
I will be, at Christmas. But shhhhh.
I got home early, made Vinaigrette salad, another Russian specialty featuring the almighty beetroot, a New Year’s food I eat for comfort and health reasons (we’re pretty good at those kinds of recipes in Eastern Europe). I may be persuaded to share the recipe. Maybe.
At Least Afloat 