Language
by Maureen Sweeney—Age 38—Salt Lake City, UT
I had no idea what to expect on that first day when I taped my “Language Services” sign on a plastic table in the lobby of Atlanta’s downtown Best Western. My small team and I were there to help interpret between English and the numerous languages spoken by the hundreds of competitors in town for the 1995 World Wrestling Championships.
Our first call for assistance came from the front desk. “Could someone go up to the 12th floor and help explain in Russian that nothing should be thrown from the windows—especially TVs?” I send two Ukrainian college students to meet the security guard at the elevator bank.
Not much later two young female volunteers reported back from a call to help the Japanese Team Manager. “How did it go?” I asked. With concerned looks on their faces, they held up three 100 dollar bills. “He told us to buy liquor for the team party and bring it to his room at 7pm. Is that okay?” I assured them it was not.
Later in the evening I noticed our Russian speaking interpreter outside on the sidewalk, engrossed in lively conversation with several large wrestlers. “What’s up?” I asked as I stepped outside. “If we are just interpreting for someone, it isn’t the same as doing something illegal right?” the twenty-something interpreter asked. “What are you talking about?” I replied. “I mean, it wouldn’t be the same as if I bought the marijuana myself, right?” I let him know that probably wouldn’t be how a cop would see it.
By the weekend, the local working girls had discovered our international guests and I had to explain to my mostly male team that interpreting for “dates” was off limits. By the end of the first week the elevators were nearly inoperable. The “Limit 15 People” signs we had posted on every floor in close to 20 languages had done little to stop the wrestlers odd habit of cramming in as many stinky bodies as humanly possible for each trip.
By the end of the event, two weeks later, we were a team of old pros, having interpreted for everything from arrests to medical emergencies to heated financial disputes between Slavic men with giant rolls of cash in their pockets held together with thick rubber bands.
Who knew Language Services was so exciting? I had found my calling.
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