Garbage translation

I had a fulfilling work life in foreign language education for some 25 years. I taught Spanish for a dozen years and while teaching, consulted for a non-profit foreign language organization. When I stopped teaching, I consulted full time. For several years, the organization was very busy with academic, government and military contracts, but then there was a lull.

Enter, the unsavory job.

While waiting for new contracts, I signed up with a local temp agency (something I always did during breaks in college and grad school), and was immediately contacted to interview with a lawyer looking for a Spanish translator.

His office was only a 20 minute or so drive from my home which was nice. When I entered the office, I was shocked by the absolute, unmitigated mess. Books and papers everywhere. He, let's call him Larry, took some books off a chair and waved me onto it.

Perusing my resume, he laughed and said, "Haha, looks great if it's true."

Excuse me? "Well, it is true and you can contact my references from each. I have no reason to pad my resume with lies. But I am not sure I want to work for someone who starts an interview with an insult to my integrity." I stood up to leave.

He immediately apologized, smoothed my ruffled feathers and got down to what he needed me to do. Basically, translate a legal contract to buy a company in the Dominican Republic where he thought he'd get rich fast by recycling garbage.

He already had an electronic translator but it was not doing a very good job. He wanted me to take what the electronic translator spouted and "fix it" so it made sense. I accepted the challenge, told him my requirements, took over his office, cleaned as much as I could, and got to work (he gave me a key because he kept erratic hours).

It was late 2009. Electronic/digital translators were virtually useless. Especially for legal documents.

After wasting days trying to piece together the garbledygook, I decided it would be easier to start from scratch.

After translating the bulk of it, I asked Larry if he knew what he was doing. The document seemed heavily in favor of the seller with so many caveats I was not sure Larry was actually doing more than giving away his investors' money (because, of course, none of the cash down payment was coming out of his pocket). But maybe he was still making money...

"You sound like my mother," was his annoyed response. (Just before I quit, I met his mother. He clearly meant his comment as an insult but neither she, with all her nagging, nor I, with my queries, was wrong.)

Fast forward a few months, and I am on a plane to the Dominican Republic to meet with the owner of the garbage company Larry wants to buy. It is minutes to take off...and Larry has not yet boarded. I am ready to run off the plane but then, there he is.

We arrive at night, so work begins the next day. We are whisked off to the offices of myriad government bureaucrats who do little more than shake hands, and walk us to the next office. Supposedly, it was a demonstration of support for his contract and recycling plans. That evening, we have a dinner meeting with the owner and his wife and I am the interpreter. They are a lovely couple. Not much business is discussed. The food is great. We fly home the next morning.

Perhaps a month later, I'm still translating revisions and we are off again with three of his investors. According to Larry, the recycling company owner insisted I be a part of the meetings or else he would no longer deal with Larry. Possible. They were kind to me and not so much to Larry on my first visit. And Larry gave the air of knowing less than he wanted you to believe and more than he let on. Contadictory, I know.

This time, rather than a hotel, we stay in a seaside condo.

Enter the unsavory part.

The investors, Larry and I all go out to dinner and when we get back female guests have been arranged for the investors (apparently they all have regular...guests). Larry asks me to tell his pretty young thing that he doesn't want to have sex, he just wants to lay with her. Or something I have since blocked out of my memory because I could not believe I was being asked to interpet the desired outcome of an intimate encounter.

I locked my bedroom door.

The next day we were late for a meeting with the lawyers. I was mortified. I then spent two hours trying to interpret the yelling of eight people.They seemed to hate each other but when it was over it was all smiles, hand shaking and how's the family? I was still shaking when got back to the condo.

We got a late flight home that night and I gave my two weeks notice when we landed.

His mom was cleaning his office, trying to get him to get his life together the last week I was there.

I found out a few months later that the deal fell through.

What a surprise.