Piano recital

                                        Piano Recital

 

I, a concert piano at the Juilliard School of Music, hereby declare through my appointed representative that:

a.       I am a Model L Steinway piano, manufactured in 1989 (hereinafter: “the  Piano”);

b.       I am situated in the concert hall of the Juilliard School of Music, 155 W. 65th Street, in New York, NY;

c.       I have the complete set of parts standard for an 88- key piano;

d.       A professional tuner examined me and found me properly aligned and tuned;

e.       My wish is for a proficient pianist to play me;

f.        I waive my right to refuse cooperation with to a person playing “Chopsticks” on me.

                                               End of Recital

[no applause or encore]

Translating certificates – distinguishing marks

 

No translation of a novel is the same. The style, language and sensitivity of the translator render each translation unique to itself. That situation applies to legal translation, albeit to a lesser degree. The same cannot be said of official document translation. As the quantity and variability of words is so limited, it is quite probable that different translators will produce essentially identical documents, as it should be. Yet, in this niche, it is possible to “stand out” from the field and be more successful mainly through the “soft skills” required to attain and retain customers. These skills include ensuring findability, professional communication, careful listening, deadline setting and accountability. Together, they create a personal brand in a rather generic niche.

The a priori of developing a client base is making it easy for translation buyers to find you. As private customers represent a significant percentage of one’s clientele, it is the translator’s task to create high visibility and convenient contact. Specifically, the customer searching for a translator of an official document from one language to another phrases the search in a certain manner and directs the search to certain tracks, including AI, LinkedIn, Facebook and professional association search engines. The greater the exposure, the higher the chance of being noticed. However, too many translators forget to make their email address and phone number clearly visible or even include them. The average translator buyer simply chooses another name when faced with a challenge. Thus, official document translators must have a presence where customers search in a manner that allows for effortless follow-up.

Once contact is made, whether by email, telephone or WhatsApp, the potential buyer, generally lacking any ability to discern the potential quality of the translation, places great importance on the tone of the communication. A customer is neither a friend nor an enemy. The market creates business relations, which value ease and comfort. True, a few words of friendly conversation may be beneficial, depending on the individual culture. However, the messages must be clear and complete and create a minimum of follow-up. In other words, the translator must provide the required information in the most accessible and efficient manner possible. This approach creates the impression, sometimes accurate in practice, that the translator is a professional, regardless of how many years of experience that person may or may not have. On the other hand, inappropriate, inefficient or simply excessive words annoy, which may lead to the buyer choosing someone else. The translator sets the tone of the communication.

In order to provide that information and reinforce the “professional” impression, it is first necessary to listen and ask questions. First, many buyers enjoy talking. It is important to have some kind of human communication here. More importantly, it is vital to ask questions regarding information that is necessary for fully defining the service, such as the receiving agency and need for notarization. These queries both save time for everybody and create the impression that the translator is an expert. Listening and clarifying solidify the business relationship and ensure smooth processing.

One of the key elements of that information is setting a mutually acceptable deadline. For the client, the amount of flexibility varies in regard to the actual required date of delivery. It is important to ascertain the actual deadline. For the translator, each document requires a certain period of time, including sufficient time for proper quality control. It is one of the reasons I do not provide same-day service. Ultimately, it is counterproductive to produce inferior or flawed work or, in the worst case, miss the deadline. Allowing extra time and delivering earlier is a far more successful strategy, like a merchant adding product to a hand-weighed service, such as selling loose candies, as compared to taking some away to attain the desired amount. If customers receive their translation early, it is a bonus for them. It is vital to find the deadline that meets both needs.

To turn a one-time order into a long-term relationship and receive referrals, it is necessary to take responsibility for one’s errors when they occur. Many documents are quite complicated in terms of names, numbers and formatting. No craftsperson (including translators) is perfect; mistakes happen. Fortunately, most buyers understand this to a certain extent. To retain customers, especially when it is necessary to make a correction, requires humility and strength. Prompt and effective handling of any issues smooths over most ill feelings. Whatever anger and frustration a translator feels inwardly and outwardly is not relevant to the matter in hand. In fact, it is best to accept, regret and fix the error with as little emotion as possible. Beating oneself up or the customer is not a good recipe for long-term success.

Thus, while official document translators produce rather “vanilla” documents, they can act to become more or less effective. The most successful translators, including those of official documents, actively market, communicate professionally, listen, set proper deadlines and stand behind their work. All of these soft skills are a matter of approach and habit. They are an essential part of running a translation or, for that matter, any business. They lead to customers coming back and giving you good marks.

The inefficacy of AI writing

 

It is an accepted vision that AI will soon entirely eliminate human writing. We old-timers will brag about how we wrote something by hand, just as some of our grandparents proudly declared that they walked through 5 miles (or kilometers, as applicable) to get to school instead of getting in the toasty car equipped with snow tires as they do now. Progress by definition, irresistibly moves forward, it is claimed. However, I would argue that AI writing may supplement homo sapiens muses but will not eliminate them, but not because there is anything intrinsically wrong with AI writing. The actual reason is that AI writing is simply not effective in many, if not most, situations involving learning, explaining and persuading.

Proper AI output requires directed prompting and editing. The initial output generally contains several stylistic errors in terms of the desired result. The inputting party must refine the prompts until the AI app produces a truly acceptable text. The a priori condition here is that the person framing the prompts is capable of identifying the issues. Therein lies the problem. Without learning how to write using the human mind alone, making mistakes and receiving feedback, a person does not develop a proper template for comparison’s perspective to even judge the AI version. Many students, including adults studying law and finance, avoid the challenge of putting their text on a page and immediately turn to AI. They lose their prime opportunity to learn how to write text and, consequently, to edit AI text. They may pay a high professional price for their shortcut.

The other aspect of AI text output involves factual errors. There is no shortage of reports in the media of AI actually inventing law cases and medical studies as it overstrives to meet the demands of the inputting party. This situation is humorous if the human party catches the error before submission or publication but can have unfortunate consequences if not. While laziness and ignorance sometimes play a part, a more pernicious factor is the illusion that AI is infallible. No AI engine makes such a claim but it is so easy to believe everything a computer tells us. Ideally, everybody would check the facts but, in practice, many writers are lazy or ignorant. Therefore, for many professionals, AI does not in fact reduce the effort involved in writing, but merely changes its form.

The main reason that AI will probably not replace human writers is far more universal. Simply put, for many purposes, its output, even guided by trained writers, does not attain the goal. Long before AI erupted on the scene, the average person did not trust language that was too sophisticated or smooth. They called it “highfalutin” or whatever the local word term was and immediately suspected either someone was hiding something or trying to make them feel stupid. As an example, if a car salesman claimed that a given vehicle was “aerodynamically and ergonomically designed to maximize power and fuel usage”, customers would look confused or suspect that the engine was too weak. Neither result would lead to sales. People prefer to hear direct language using everyday words. Ignoring his politics, President Trump may be crude but everybody understands what he is trying to say at any given moment, unlike most politicians. On LinkedIn, many writers complain about “AI-written content” being published. The issue is not the use of AI but the lack of connection to the reader. AI, even with human help, tends to “automate”, which is much less effective than less polished but honest words.

There are clearly exceptions to this tendency. Academic writing loves soufflé writing, i.e., fancy words with hidden, implied or even no meanings. AI is outstanding at producing these texts, far better than most human beings. Other fields use a specific form and lexicon to express their ideas, often rather formalized. These areas include law and business. Many legal claims and financial press notices sound almost identical aside from the relevant names and numbers. AI serves as an “expert system” in producing this coded text whose audience is in the know of the meanings and expects a certain style. In fact, these readers may not appreciate anything less than it.

Still, AI text is not appropriate for those who are learning, researching and persuading. Even with editing, it quite often triggers an intuitive resistance to the message and the suspicion that something is amiss. It will take a period of time before the impact of these AI inadequacies strikes home to the enthusiastic AI users out there, but the issues will not disappear. In summary, realistically, taking a walk is an enjoyable and healthy experience. However, there is nothing wrong with staying dry and comfortable in a car on an unpleasantly hot or rainy day. AI and human writing are not mutually exclusive.

Eulogistic lexicon – The art of translation

 

Many people equate translation with mechanically replacing a word in one language with one with the same meaning in the other language. It is similar to describing painting as brushing color on a surface. While there is a small measure of truth, the analogies ignore the art involved in creating a useful result. As an example, last week I received an interesting project involving the translation of old gravestones from Hebrew to English. To be clear, the longest of them did not contain more than 20 words. However, the act of translation required a clear understanding of the full texture of the words in both languages.

The challenge began from the start with the honorifics. The letter מ [mem], which is a short form of מרת [marat], preceded the names of some of the women. The problem is that English has two different forms of address, Ms. and Mrs. After careful thought, I chose the former term because the reader of my translation is from the modern era and, more importantly, the issue of her marital status should be minimized. I recognize that Mrs. would be also appropriate since it reflects language use during the relevant years, 1912-1946. However, I chose the more modern term. As for the male deceased, the letter ר [resh], a short form for Rabbi, appeared before the name. However, the term Rabbi was used quite often as an honorific, like Mr. Not every Jew was a religious scholar, although some were. My solution was to write “Rabbi” and let the genealogist ascertain who was a real rabbi and who was merely a respectable gentleman. In both cases, it is possible to justify and criticize my choice.

The fun had only begun. First names in Hebrew and English are not always identical. The English spelling of the name appeared in the caption to the photograph I received from the client. However, I still had to choose between the Hebrew version and the “official” English version. For example, on the gravestones of those named Jacob was written יעקב [Yaakov]. On the one hand, the names are similar enough for a non-Hebrew speaker to identify the connection. Furthermore, my task was to translate the Hebrew, which may include the actual form of the name. On the other hand, the audience was the English-speaking family. I saw no need to add complexity to the already logistically and emotionally challenging task of learning about one’s family. I feel confident that Yaakov would not be angry at me for calling him Jacob even if some translators may question my judgment.

Many gravestones carried a few carefully chosen words of praise. The bereaving families noted that many of the deceased were תם [tom]. A quick dictionary search of the term brings up innocent and naive, to name a few. However, these words in English have a negative connotation, implying ignorance or stupidity according to the context. For example, a naïve businessperson or child lacks something important. By contrast, the meaning here is a person that acted with a pure heart. Thus, I choose guileless, a rare but positive word. In the context of Judaism, this is a virtue.

On the subject of virtue, at least one gravestone mentionedחסוד  [hasud] as a trait of the deceased. The two most obvious meaning are demure and pious. The former implies self-defacement in a negative way while the second is a bit vague to my ears, although it would also be appropriate. I choose virtuous as it expresses the idea that the person strove to live his/her life according to the values of the religion.

The last matter I had to consider was how to relate to the abbreviation ז"ל placed after the name of the father to mark his prior death. In some documents, it is possible to write the late, as in “the last John Smith bequeathed his money….” That term does not read well on a gravestone. Neither did RIP as there is a bit of sarcasm there. I instead chose of blessed memory, which is both a literal translation and appropriate.

Thus, translation is the art of choosing the appropriate word or phrase, taking into account all aspects of both the source and target language. This complex matching makes it both interesting and challenging to create a proper translation. If you need an accurate translation and are tempted to use AI or Google, remember your child’s rendition of a dog hanging on the refrigerator.

The educational pendulum – a step too far?

 

S

Something is wrong in the kingdom of Denmark, educationally speaking. or so it seems to me. The attitude towards and, consequently, of educational institutions has changed 180 degrees over my life. They have gone from being a provider of God-inspired, figuratively, wisdom to an issuer of career–required, literally speaking, certificates. The teacher, once the kingpin, has become a cog in a complicated system of wheels powered by money. I understand the change and appreciate how much it has improved education but I feel it is time for the pendulum to go in the other direction.

The journey of my generation began with the teacher as God’s assistant (or maybe vice versa). Teachers decided what we needed to learn, which was accepted without question by both students, their parents and administrators. The system created a dogma, often unjustified, that educators somehow knew what we, the students, needed to understand in order to be successful in life. Questioning was taboo, as I discovered as late as 2000 when I did my MBA at a British university. During my college years, in the 1970’s, at some universities, such as UCSC where I studied, it was possible to talk with teachers on a friendly basis and even disagree about interpretation. However, nobody, including the college administration, openly disputed the teacher’s basis for assessment and the right to fail those that did not meet their criteria.

Today, in many if not most institutes of higher education worldwide, students are the customers, i.e., the college needs their tuition to survive. As high school testing standards have deteriorated over the decades, the gap between the assumed and actual knowledge of students beginning their degree programs has widened significantly. This discrepancy, combined with the ever-increasing tuition fees, has created a serious financial dilemma for college administrators: colleges need paying students in order to be able to keep their doors open. At the same time, the academization of professional life has made attaining the appropriate certificates essential for attaining most jobs, e.g., BAs for nurses. Finally, fundamental faith in the system, the belief that the people up there know what they are doing, has dropped to critical levels, also often justifiably. These crises together have created an atmosphere where an unspoken agreement exists in which students, their parents, administrators and even many teachers believe that an institution, when faced with a conflict between a student’s lack of knowledge and need for the certificate, should opt to issue the latter. Colleges and universities have become, to one degree or another, factories for diplomas, not actual knowledge. Interestingly enough, most people recognize and accept this phenomenon.

I, as a “dinosaur” who will retire from institutional college teaching in Israel in three semesters, find it disturbing that too many first-year Israeli engineering students I teach can pass my English course without knowing how to write a proper sentence in English or even in their native tongue, let alone a paragraph, not to mention create an organized argument. For me, effective communication is an essential skill. The world does not care if English is the second or even third language. As I tell my students, if a customer asks whether or not a bridge will bear a given weight, you need to be able to produce a coherent answer. My college, to be fair, is slightly more insistent on keeping testing standards up than many others. However, the unspoken and spoken message is that it is not “good for the college or department” if too many students fail. Teachers, beware.

At the same time, students should be made aware that they will be shortly entering the world of real work without many of the tools they need to be effective and that this lack will impact their own professional lives, not to mention those affected by the results of their work. It is clear that the omniscient and omnipotent status of teachers not so long ago was unjustified and harmful. On the other hand, the perception of a teacher as a clerk functioning as a cog in the system is equally unjustified and harmful. It is time to find a reasonable medium between these two extremes. The pendulum needs to start swinging in the other direction.

Annoyed communication – the art of signal communication

 

Last week, in the middle of a long drive home back to northern Israel, I got annoyed, very annoyed, due to the poor service at a restaurant. I got up from my seat, not once but twice, went to the cashier area and stated in a loud voice such that everybody in the whole restaurant could hear that I still had not received my salad. Some of you may find my behavior exaggerated while others may completely relate to my actions. That difference in opinion reflects the fact that culture dictates the appropriate way to express dissatisfaction, a language that is learned at home and through exposure to society. The complicating factor is that almost all societies are multi-ethnic, making it impossible to assume a common language and creating misunderstandings and failed messages. In my case, I have learned to communicate á la Israel.

If it is human to err, it is even more human to become annoyed with your fellow homo sapiens. The challenge is to express that annoyance without creating the potential for violence. At the minimum level, salespeople in certain cities, formally obliged to remain polite with customers, are experts in rolling their eyes when the potential buyer becomes too demanding, at least in their view. Likewise, the French have the amazing ability to insult you using the most polite and elegant language, becoming completely formal in their address as in “Madame, je regrette que vous ne trouviez pas la couleur que vous désirez. Madame, je suggère que vous essayez à un autre magasin.“, (In English, “Ma’am, I am sorry that you cannot find the color you want. Ma’am, I suggest you try another store.”), of course, in the most correct possible tone. The English, as a rule, tend to prefer understatement: “Waiter, the steak is a bit overcooked.”, meaning it is dead three times over. Americans are more over the top if still civil: “The steak is overcooked! Bring me a properly cooked one”. Alas, with many Israelis as well as other Mediterranean people, this relatively polite approach will not always create sufficient momentum; sometimes a bit of drama is necessary, which some people find acceptable and even amusing. No feelings are hurt. In each of the approaches, the annoyed and the annoyer receive the same message.

People do not learn the code at school, at least not in the classroom, but at home and in their neighborhood. Children carefully observe their parents and neighbors interact, paying attention to the choice of words, tone and physical expression. For example, children watching their mother tell a neighbor not to leave her garbage outside the door of her apartment note the expressions and intonation used to communicate their mother’s annoyance as well as the neighbor’s reaction. Parent-teacher conferences are excellent primers in the fine art of communicating negativity. “Your son needs to control his urge to talk to his friends during class” expresses the same message as “Your son needs to stop talking in class” and even “Your son disturbs the class with his talking”, but each has its nuances. By the time we reach adulthood, we learn how to acceptably express our unhappiness.

The major problem for societies is that almost every country is now multiethnic and, thus, a hodgepodge of communication codes. The United States, Australia, Israel and the UK are immigrant societies with people having quite varying degrees of assimilation and exposure to the native culture. Even traditionally more homogenous societies, such as France and the Scandinavian countries, have become multiethnic. This blending, regardless of the benefits it brings, creates situations where misunderstandings occur, i.e., one party perceives the behavior as rude or even threatening when there was no such intention. Neither person fully understands the other person’s code, which leads to conflict. Fortunately for the world, it is possible to learn the code at any age and consciously choose a successful strategy when expressing unhappiness or grasp what the annoyed party meant by making allowance for the other way. Live and learn.

As for the restaurant scene, I did receive my salad, albeit a rather poor one, but did not leave a tip. The manager came by and mumbled a few words of apology but did not offer to drop the charge for the dish. Ultimately, we understood each other but did not overreact, a positive situation as far as society is concerned. So, rude is as rude is perceived. That interpretation is a learned art.

Spelling rationales – the challenge of writing English, Hebrew and French

 

Learning how to speak a language is intuitive. With a little bit of effort, courage and humility, it is possible to learn how to speak a language without formally studying it. Every child, regardless of intelligence, learns how to speak to one degree or another of skill. By contrast, writing a language is a great challenge for many people. I personally can attest to my complete insecurity regarding the correct spelling of words in English, Hebrew and French. Yet, I admit that the apparent randomness of a spelling system can reflect historical realities or grammar rules, whose challenges can be overcome with modern computer systems.

Let us begin with the most common language of communication (not necessarily first language), English. Both native and non-native speakers have a litany of complaints about inconsistent connections between letters and sounds. A few examples will suffice: through vs tough; know, low vs women; receive vs weigh; and time vs action. For the uninitiated, there is a higher chance to succeed in blackjack than in English spelling. Some people blame Samuel Johnson in 1755 or maybe Robert Cawdrey before him in 1604 for writing the first dictionaries and creating this chaos. Alas, they are not guilty. Distance creates diversity of pronunciation, even today, and, thus, a lack of predictability. In many parts of the world, listeners immediately can tell where a person grew up just by hearing certain sounds or words. In parts of pre-literacy England and to a certain extent today, people did pronounce those words exactly as they were written, especially the guttural sounds, kn and gh. In fact, in one older English manuscript,  the modern word girl is written ghurl, something that an Arabic speaker or a Scot would have no problem saying. Thus, English spelling is really phonetic but only for some people at some time in history. The rest of us have to memorize it somehow.

Time and distance have also affected Hebrew. In theory, every letter in an alphabet represents a different sound. In ancient Hebrew, each letter was pronounced in a manner distinct from each other. However, in modern Hebrew, many, if not most, Israelis do not generally pronounce the following letters in clearly distinct ways: alef א and ayin ע, an a sound; kuf ק and kof כּ, a k sound; sin שׂ and samech ס, an s sound; tof ת and tet ט, a t sound; het ח  and kof כ, a ch sound. True, eastern (mizhahi) Jews, especially Yemenites, have to a certain extent retained the historical pronunciation differences but people generally do not annunciate the distinctions between the letters. As a result, as an immigrant that arrived in Israel as an adult and never studied the language at school, I am uncertain. Which is happiness and which is wealth, אושר [osher] or עושר [o’sher]?. Did I confuse every and voice in כל קול [kol kol]? Did I write that I need time עת or a pen אט, both pronounced [et]? Which is form and which is grab, טפוס [tofes] or תופס [tofes]? The actual key is to know the root of the word, which indicates the correct letter to be used. While it does increase the odds of a correct guess, not every Israeli, not to mention immigrants, feels absolute certainty when writing Hebrew.

As for French, it seems to me that framers of the language chose ease of speaking over simplicity of writing, plausibly using Latin rules of grammar as the excuse. To explain, it is possible to represent the long a sound, as in the a in the word late in English, in 13 different ways (forgive me if I missed a few). The following words all end in a long a: donner, donnez, donné, donnée, donnés, données, donnais, donnait, donnaient, donnerai, les, abeilles, et and forêt. For non-French speakers, the meanings are to give, you give, given (n), given (f), given (pl), given (f. pl), you gave, he gave, they gave, I will give, the, bees, and and forest, respectively. That is one impressive haul of uses for one sound. The price for such efficiency is, of course, the difficulty in knowing how to write the correct form. Since the establishment of universal schooling in France in 1882, generations of French children have had to work hard to master the rules of grammar required to know when the correct tense endings, when to add the silent e and s to the past participle and which letters are the end of a specific noun. The results, then and now, are far from perfect. Actually, I find French spelling relatively easy because I understand these rules. I find it convenient that they are based on grammar, not history.

Those of us that doubt our spelling, rightly or wrongly, and double-check all words can feel a little bit relieved. Like some exes said, it is not you; it is the language. Spelling has its own logic, one that is unconcerned about mere mortals, whether they are native or non-native speakers. Fortunately, word processing, applications and AI have made it quite convenient to identify and fix any embarrassing errors. These tools do not eliminate the need to actually know the language as you still must choose the right word when two words with different meanings sound the same but are spelled differently, e.g., too vs two in English, but at least, we don’t have to look idiots when we write. We don’t have to feel like idiots either since, while there is a rationale to spelling rules in fact, it is one that often makes no sense to us.

 Do you need an official document translated? See this article: https://lnkd.in/eDB3hsvn

If you are a translator interested in entering the official translation niche, the ATA and I are offering a three-lecture webinar on the field, with the first one just around the corner, on July 30. See the registration: https://lnkd.in/ePQ5PbYv

Bonjour tristesse or beautifully sad stories

 

A story becomes extraordinary when it creates an impact, intellectual or emotional. The sign of such a tale is when it occupies one’s thoughts for days, weeks or even years. The nature and quality of the form is far less important than its essence. For example, one of the strongest feelings a human being can experience is loneliness. Despite its universal nature, it is a difficult state to render into words and images. Three examples of the successful transmission of deep and sad isolation are the books Grey Souls (Les Ames grises), written by Phillippe Claudel and translated into English from French by Hoyt Rogers, and The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James and the Italian movie We all loved each other so much (C'eravamo tanto amati), directed by Ettore Scola. In my experience, each created a haunting feeling that remains in one’s consciousness long after one has forgotten the actual details.

Grey Souls is a story about a small village in France during World War I located within shouting distance of the fighting. The atmosphere is grey not only due to the weather and factory fumes but also from the sadness created by the convoys of wounded soldiers passing through the town and hopelessness of the situation. In this novel, four females of different ages die, each under different circumstances. The novel essentially recounts the impact of these deaths on several individuals, important people in the community, through the eyes of a simple policeman, one of those affected. The writing, at least in translation, is also rather gray, i.e., indirect and amorphous. At the end, the reader learns how and why each of these women died but it is almost irrelevant. The dominant feeling is the loneliness and misery of the men affected by their deaths, a feeling that remains long after the reader finished the book.

Another amazing and sad book is Henry James’ The Portrait of a Lady, dating from the late 19^th century. The story is different but the sensation at the end is rather similar. The writer was the brother of William James, known as the “father of American psychology”. His sister was Alice James, a famous diarist of the time. Their impact can be seen in this book. In the story, a young American woman, Isabel Archer, goes to Europe to find a husband as was the practice in certain circles at the time. She attracts quite a few men but rejects all those that would want to marry her for love. Instead, she is attracted to a charming social magnet. By the end of the book, the only pleasure the couple has is hosting parties because they are able to not invite certain people. Her life at the end of the book seems so deeply and irrevocably miserable, a feeling reinforced by the contrast with all the hope and joy of the beginning. It feels like an emotional suicide, one not that far from what real people do.

In other media, the Italian movie We all loved each other so much tells the story of three friends who fought together as partisans during World War II. After the war, each of the men builds his life: one works as a hospital orderly; one becomes a poor teacher and intellectual; and one marries the daughter of a rich industrialist. The final scene is haunting in its starkness. The first two friends, laughing and joking, walk by the large villa owned by the third. They see him swimming by himself in a large pool right after his wife and children walked out on him and keep on walking. The sadness of his isolation and loneliness, amplified by the simple happiness of his two former friends, is hard to forget.

None of these works are easy or even necessarily pleasant. However, they are stories that resonate. They evoke strong feelings, which can be both heavy but also enlightening. As such, they are worthy of note. Françoise Sagan’s Bonjour Tristesse is a story of regret and sadness. These works are so impactful because of the great sadness they evoke but most people have no regret experiencing them. Exceptional art can and maybe should express strong emotion.

Freelancers, price negotiations and opportunity cost – a resulting tale

 

Freelancers set their own prices and must, therefore, negotiate them. Many customers, especially from the Middle and Far East, relish price haggling and practice it at every opportunity. This face-off presents the entrepreneur with a set of choices, namely if and how much to bend. Yet, in deciding how much to handle these negotiations, many solo businesspeople forget the impact of opportunity cost, a factor that cannot be ignored. I will share my experience dealing with this situation, a positive one I am happy to say, and my analysis of the potential outcomes.

To begin, it is important to define the term opportunity cost. The basis is the assumption, generally true of freelance work, that a person working on Project 1 at a specific moment cannot take on Project 2 at the exact same time, i.e., the cost of taking on Project 1 is the inability to accept Project 2. This cost is most noticeable on larger projects that require many hours or several days to complete. Its verbal expression is the outcry “Why did I agree to this job? Now, I can’t take on that project!” Of course, in some cases, it is possible to work almost simultaneously on two different projects or outsource one of them. Even more importantly, the cost is only potential as it is generally impossible to know if and when a better project will arrive in your email. Thus, opportunity cost can be high, but it is uncertain.

This week, an established customer contacted me about certified translation of some 7 personal documents from Hebrew to English. I provided a quote, which was immediately followed by a significantly lower counteroffer. I made a small concession to no avail. The next day, the customer sent me an amended package, 4 of the 7 documents. The result was the same, but without any concession to price on my part. The following day, the customer informed me that it had found another service provider. All this correspondence took almost an hour. Most curiously, several hours later, a new customer contacted me with an interesting new project, a certified translation of a Russian-English asylum request, and immediately agreed to the quoted price and deadline. The invoiced amount was much higher with very few additional hours. On this occasion, I came out ahead in all respects.

In terms of odds,  a positive result is highly probable in this situation. If the customer refuses to compromise and I lose the order, my maximum potential loss is a small amount of income and future business. Neither the insistence nor the loss of the customer is certain. It is quite possible that this buyer will return to me. Meanwhile, I may and did gain a new customer and quality project, which is far more valuable separately and together than the original project. If no new project appears in the immediate timeframe, I lose a small amount of business but I can use that time for alternative activities, e.g., marketing, physical exercise, viewing webinars or watching Wimbledon, each valuable in its own way. Thus, standing firm on prices requires faith but is often the correct strategy.

Therefore, if faced with the demand for compromise beyond their point of comfort, freelancers should remember that every choice carries an opportunity cost. It may help them make the decision that provides the greatest probability of a successful result, however one defines success. As they say in Hebrew, if you are not for yourself, who will be?

Shibboleth – French legal terminology then and now

 

Traditionally, legal language has two purposes: to provide a precise term and to prevent the uninitiated from understanding. The Plain Language movement, at least in English-speaking countries, has somewhat diminished the second tendency to want to confuse the person on the street but that change is far from universal or consistent. As a case in point, Tom West, in his outstanding webinar for the ATA discussed recent changes to the French codes of law, emphasizing terminology. First, I would recommend watching his webinar (through the ATA) if you do legal translation or interpretation in the French/English language pair. On the linguistic front, it was fascinating how the French legal language achieves the desired level of encryption, notably applying vagueness, generality and sheer misleading. Granted, the code reforms have improved the situation in some cases but the examples shed light on the codification of law in both senses of the word.

The first technique is using a general term to describe a specific action. It is similar to saying “kitchen” when you mean to ask someone to turn off the light in the kitchen. One example in French legal terminology is imprévision, which means something unforeseen. In legal language, it refers to the damage caused by an unexpected event not specified in the contract or list of force majeure cases. The English translation is hardship. Another example is that, traditionally, French laws had to meet the standard of bonnes moeurs, literally “good morals”. The new term is ordre public  but the English term is public policy. Finally, the French equivalent of the famous standard of the reasonable person (previously man) is pėre de famille, taken from the Latin term. The term suggests a test of whether a proper father of a  family would take a given action. The French have quite reasonably replaced it with reasonable, apparently because the mothers of the family had had enough of this sexism. In all these cases, it is possible to guess the meaning of the word but it takes a bit of imagination.

A second technique is to take a general word and give it a specific meaning, creating the false impression that the reader actually understands the significance. A prime example is the word crime. Contrary to appearance, the term in French law only refers to the most serious of all offenses, murder, rape and the like, with délit referring to lesser crimes and contravention applying to a misdemeanor. I imagine that a French lawyer would not fully understand the name of the movie Crimes and Misdemeanors. Likewise, a jurisdiction d’exception actually refers to courts with specialized but limited areas of jurisdiction, such as the Commercial Court. Jurisdiction actually refers to a court while exception relates to a specialty. A final example is the common French word proximité, which sounds like and generally means nearness. Alas, in legal French, it would refer to a local or district court. Knowledge is the key.

Finally, some terms are simply misleading. The reformed code replaces the traditional French legal répétition with restitution. The previously used chambre de l’instruction is now honestly called a chambre des investigations and libertés. At least the first term is clear. Finally, the appel public à l’épargne, which had nothing to do with savings (the last word), is now an offre au public des titres financiers. That is a public share offering to English speakers. At least, someone in the French Parliament cared about plain language.

Legal language has always served as a way of allowing or preventing entrance, a shibboleth. To its credit, the French government is working on reducing its level of encoding. I suppose that French will always be more ambiguous than English for better or worse. A word (or two) to the wise, including those in the webinar,  prevents some serious misunderstandings for lawyers and translators.

Multidirectional wandering and wondering

 

One of the most interesting cross-cultural exchanges is the seemingly simple request for directions. As a non-native, even if you are from the same country, you make yourself dependent on the “kindness of strangers”. The results are quite uneven. Some people prefer not to get involved for one reason or another while others feel happy or duty-bound to help you. The manner and efficacy of their assistence vary extremely. Fortunately, modern city guide applications are ready, available and far more reliable.

The attitude to helping strangers goes beyond individual character and reflects civil attitudes to a certain degree. Many cities are characterized by rather insular lifestyles, i.e., people mind their own business. For example, it is fortunate that Paris is at least 50% non-Parisians. The Chinese are not very forthcoming either. The reason for this taciturn approach is often language ability. Most locals may not be familiar at all with any other language aside from their native tongue. Thus, they don’t want to embarrass themselves. It may simply reflect a lack of interest, i.e., they don't care. On the other extreme, some cultures place a great importance on welcoming guests. As a consequence, they are both happy and honored to try to guide you to your goal. The lack of language and actual knowledge has no impact on their enthusiasm. They feel obligated to try.

Unfortunately, the results will vary. On one extreme, you meet the right person with all the required knowledge and time. For example, a friend of mine  just returned from Japan and recounted how a policeman guided him to where he wanted to go, even stopping traffic so that he and his wife could cross the street. Regretfully, such willingness to go above and beyond duty does not always reflect actual knowledge. Strangers will often take you in the wrong direction or a completely different location, of course, only with good intentions. Remember that a certain road was paved with those same intentions. Language issues can render simple instructions into a challenging puzzle. A hand pointed in a direction followed by the words “1, 2, 3, right” can be rather ambiguous as it is not entirely clear whether the numbers refer to streets, lights or traffic circles. In Israel, I have even had the experience of the addition of a truly cryptic bit of data: opposite where the felafel stand used to be. I found that one as amusing as it was useless. The most serious problem is that many people simply do not want to admit that they don’t know how to get there, as if confessing to ignorance would somehow harm their pride or ego. As a result, they confidently lead you astray. Thus, the level of willingness does not always reflect the level of knowledge.

Fortunately, modern applications have made travel so much easier. I am not the generation that automatically exudes joy over every new toy on the telephone. However, I have to admit that GPS-based city navigation applications allow me to enjoy two contrasting experiences when exploring a city: getting lost and arriving at my destination. I took maximum advantage of these capabilities during a trip to Paris a few years ago. Furthermore, I can err in terms of streets and even directions without fear of finding myself needing to ask a stranger for guidance. Moreover, they are fluent in most languages and even specify the names of streets. They even specify the noun after the “1, 2, 3”. In my opinion, the natives are as appreciative of these applications as travelers are. Not only do they spare them the embarrassment of not having to help lost souls but they also allow them to avoid the shame of having to ask others for directions in their supposedly home territory. Technology does have its benefits.

So, the next time you are a “stranger in a strange land”, just for the fun of it, try asking for directions from some apparent locals. It will be amusing to note their willingness to answer, the actual knowledge and the effort they are willing to invest to help you. After you complete that social science experiment, I suggest using a city navigation application. You can feel confident that you will arrive at your destination. As Serge Regiani sang (in a different context): bonne route.

Long briefs and AI wisdom

 

A word to the wise is sufficient, but only sometimes; a kick in the ass makes a far greater impression. As a case in point, this week I made an apparently unsuccessful proposal on a translation project. In retrospect, I could have and should have handled it differently and will do so in the future.

The project in question was the translation from French into English of a 45-page real estate purchase contract containing nearly 25,000 words. The document posed several challenges, including PDF formatting and quite precise legal vocabulary. Furthermore, the customer required a signed statement of accuracy, which would entail even more QA time to ensure that demand. Due to the extensive time required because of the document’s length and complexity, the quote involved four figures (in euros) and a long deadline. I received a polite but understandable “I will let you know when relevant”. It was clear from the start that the customer was neither expecting or willing to pay such an amount. To be fair, I was not surprised but stood by my quote as I knew how much time and effort such a translation involves.

Looking back, I see that I had another option, one that I know about and had forgotten. Specifically, I had heard Naomi Shenkar, a respected Israeli attorney and translator, say that, for long documents,  she provides two quotes: one for human translation and one for AI + editing. The first is based on standard human translation elements while the second quote is contingent on the quality of the AI output. She also noted that most customers ultimately prefer the human translation. In this matter, she provides the potential buyer with a choice, an unequal one in many respects, but at least an option.

I now recognize that I should have done the same. If I had offered to edit an AI version, the customer may have considered and understood the human translation proposal. While I am not particularly fond of AI or any machine translation, for longer documents for which the time and financial investment may be beyond the customer’s situation, it can provide a reasonable alternative. Furthermore, I would have created a win/win solution. Shorter projects create income and allow the translator to help other customers.

When I began translating some 22 years ago, I promised myself that I would limit myself to one time per mistake. I have been fairly loyal to that vow. The next time I have the opportunity to make a proposal on a long legal document, I will provide an AI option. Better late than never.

Prime perspectives on adopting a new country

 

37 years ago, on the date I am writing this post, I made aliyah, immigrated, to Israel. The actual day was not as eventful as D-Day, which also occurred on the same date, albeit some 54 years previously, but has had a huge impact on my life. I came to Israel and have made it my home, notwithstanding 5+ wars, because my decision was carefully calculated, both rationally and emotionally. I have paid a price in terms of becoming an alien to one degree or another. However, looking back, it was the best road taken.

Every immigrant’s story is personal and unique. In my case, moving to Israel was the search for a place that felt permanent. I had spent most of my adult life moving from city to city, apartment to apartment and job to job. I enjoyed Oregon and still appreciate its pace and beauty. However, it never felt like home despite the friends and lifestyle. Facing another period of unemployment, I chose to join the yearlong “Sherut La’am” [Service to the People] program in which I taught English at a high school in Ashkelon, in southern Israel. We lived in and taught students from the “wrong side of the tracks”. Many of my neighbors had no books in their houses. Even worse, one neighbor was a drug dealer while there was a local “working lady” below in the square. We received housing and a small stipend. I was contented for the first time despite the less-than-glamorous reality around me. I returned to the States for a year and then formally decided to immigrate to Israel. My father asked me: “Are you going to or running from”. The answer was clear and correct. I was going to. I ended up in Karmiel, in the North, where I still live today. I have never looked back.

My successful transition to living in Israel, far from obvious, derives from my decision to embrace the whole experience, positive and negative, to the best of my ability. I insisted on speaking Hebrew and actually avoided the Anglo-Saxon community. I married an Israeli and raised my child in Hebrew, watching all her videos and reading her books in Hebrew, mistakes and all. My second wife is also Israeli. I have tried to understand and selectively adopt Israeli social mores or at least anticipate them. As they used to say, I went native. I did not become fully Israeli nor will I ever be. I arrived too late in my life and did not serve in the army. Furthermore, it is impossible to erase almost 30 years of education, formal and informal. Yet, I am much as part of Israel as I can be.

Of course, there was a high price to pay: becoming a permanent alien. I do not speak nor in particular write Hebrew as a native language. I miss small subtleties in conversation and make stupid errors, particularly with gender forms in verbs. Culturally, I have learned to expect certain behaviors but cannot or choose not to adopt them. They are not my style. Not having grown up here, I don’t have friends from childhood or the army and lack the “bande”, as my mother would say, the group of people that have known you since you were small. For the same reason, I lack the shared experience of high school, the army or university studies. My growing-up period was in a different country. On a deeper level, I also stopped being an American. The America I grew up in has long disappeared. I felt the divide even while I was still frequently traveling to the States to see my parents. I can live in three countries (the United States, Israel and France) without belonging 100% to any of them. That loss of clear identity is a heavy price.

Yet, as Edith Piaf said, Je ne regrette rien – I regret nothing. Even before the current ugly wave of antisemitism in the United States and Europe, Israel was my home. It is an imperfect place, I would agree, but native born Israelis are equally, if not more, critical than I am. I am always happy to return to my country, wars, missiles, and political chaos included. Ultimately, without fully being aware of it, Israel is my home because I am Jewish here without apology and adjustment. I do not have to prove my Jewishness by being religious or politically active nor do I have to push back against my neighbors that are actively or passively antisemitic. To highjack Jacques Prévert, je suis comme je me suis; je me suis fait comme ça, or, in English, I am what I am; I made myself that. I have become Israeli in my own way, just as hundreds of thousands of immigrants have done before me and after me. Even more importantly, home is where you feel internal peace. I have always felt at home in Israel, from my first day here. I do not wish to live anywhere else. Thus, on this 37th, a prime number by chance, anniversary of my Aliyah, I have attained my goal and am content. That feeling is the ultimate success.