Halfway through day two of work (conveniently close, I've popped home on my 1.25 hour lunch break) and I'm realizing I may be a bit out of my element.
This is not to say the work is too difficult or overwhelming. Rather, I'm over my head in dialect.
Though we've been in Scotland for quite some time, most of our acquaintances are not local—they come from Glasgow, Edinburgh, Northern Ireland or England. Thus far, our only encounters with true North Eastern dialect are brief exchanges with taxi drivers and porters.
On Monday night I joined my friend Claire for a meeting regarding a local Teen Challenge bus ministry to drug addicts and prostitutes. As the night progressed several recovered addicts stood and gave their testimony.
I adopted a very serious, concerned face as they told their tales of addiction and desperation as to my surprise, out of nowhere the whole crowd would burst out laughing. I'd adopt their jovial countenance, only to look around moments later and find the mood was serious again. Though I'm assured these young men spoke English, the fact is, I didn't have a CLUE what they were saying! On the walk home i got Claire to do some minor translation for me. Who knew how helpful it would be!
Working at a college, I assumed my well-educated colleagues would share my passion for a well-enunciated sentence in proper English. But I was deluded to think that education precluded a good dose of Scots.
My new boss, a wonderful lady, hails from Peterhead—a north east maritime town, now mostly known for the unemployed fishermen who've made drugs and alcohol their fallback occupation. It's also the nucleus of a completely different linguistic world. She's the first to admit that she's pretty "broad" but she kept the Scots at bay for my first day of "induction" (aka orientation).
At this morning's staff meeting, however, she was off and running
At the end of one particlarly long schpiel she turned to me expectantly and I nodded very seriously. Everyone at the table errupted in laughter because, to my oblivion, she had been making a joke about me! I sheepishly confessed, "I really don't know what you said, but I wanted to make sure you knew I was on board with whatever it was."
She liked that.
All in all, so far so good on the job front. Interview #2 for job #2 is tomorrow.
[* I can't understand what you're saying, but I'm not an idiot, you know!]
SFGirl Says Farewell.
2 years ago
2 comments:
Hahaha!
I dated a Scot one summer. When he was sober and trying really hard, I could understand him. But if he drank too much or just gave up on reeling it in, it was like we spoke different languages. When the summer ended, he went back to Scotland. We ridiculously tried to hold a long-distance relationship, but it became a bit more difficult. Between a 7-hour time difference, a few seconds delay in the long-distance, and an ocean (plus several thousand miles of land mass) in between us, conversations proved to be near impossible. And the accent only got worse once he left the States. Needless to say, we broke up soon afterwards.
LOL. best post yet.
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