Je ne suis aucune Madame

This post is dedicated to Alina.

Once upon a time, The Poetess and I were flying together on a plane of the defunct Malev Airlines, and, since talking to people when I fly keeps me from barfing and since I was in a shitty mood (I think), I decided to pester her about something completely innocuous like the shaking off of dead skin flakes. During this time, of course, I was gracefully picking my teeth for something stuck in there at breakfast (speedy departure; don’t judge!). One of the conclusions of that conversation was that neither of us is a true lady. We came up with examples and decided we do not fit the criteria.

Last week, for the first time in my life, someone referred to me as Mrs. [insert last name here] and it startled me; and, naturally, with me being the lady that I am (after a little wine), the most mature thing I could do at that time was to send a collective message to colleagues and students, to make it clear that Mrs. [last name] is my mother. Oh, la classe!

No, it wasn’t the first time in my life actually, but it was the first time someone referred to me that way in Romanian, which made it even scarier. Not even telemarketers have done that, because they are stupidly instructed to call people Miss/Mrs./Mr. + first name because some idiot decided it doesn’t sound as childish as it actually does and that it creates a connection  (it doesn’t). In the report my boss drafted after that awful meeting I told you about here, I am referred to as Ms. [last name] which was also not as scary. I like this title, it’s very convenient, and I use it very often, too. Unfortunately, Romanian does not have an equivalent for this handy feminist concoction, so we are stuck with resorting to Mrs. (if we are polite) or with the ever-ridiculous question “So are you a Mrs. or a Miss?” (if we are sleazy jerks).

Why did I bring all of this up? Well because one of the things I have been trying hard to get used to since I started working in Brussels (and occasionally Strasbourg), is being called Madame about twenty times a day. “Bonjour, Madame”, “Oui, Madame”, “Du thé ou du café, Madame?”, “Merci, Madame”, “Bonne journée, Madame!”, ya know, the usual. I just can’t…

I wish I had a scientific explanation for my aversion towards this word, but as you may have noticed I don’t have scientific explanations for anything much. The result of my training, I think; most interpreters know a little bit about everything, but few have in-depth knowledge about a particular subject. Anyway, the first, most obvious reason that I could think of was the cultural difference. In Romania (at least in Transylvania), it is rare that people address each other just by saying Mr/Mrs/Sir/Madam without anything before or after, anything like a title, a last name, that person’s occupation or even an adjective or a pronoun to show affection or consideration. It just sounds BAD! Don’t get me wrong, I have heard it used, but never by well-educated people, and whenever I hear some chav saying “Doamnă” (Mrs/Missus/Madam/lady) without attaching the vocative to anything, I just shudder. It’s like using “Mister” or “Missus” the way children sometimes do in English.

Now “Domnișoară” (Miss) is very often used without any concern for the fact that it is rude, condescending and reeks of unwanted familiarity, but that’s the kind of society I live in. I have never heard anyone complain about this so far, so is it all in my head? Well, the Romanian code of good manners doesn’t say much on the subject. The polite forms of address almost always include a name or a profession after the title, but apparently it is also considered acceptable to address someone with a simple “Domnule/Doamnă” followed by nothing, in the case of strangers.

What do I do? Nothing. I just don’t use any titles at all when talking to someone I don’t know, ever, in any language. I actively encourage my students to not address me using the politeness pronoun and I ask people to call me by my first name. Can this all be explained through a mere cultural difference? Probably not. It is also true that us Transylvanians are less formal than the rest of Romania, at least from what I’ve seen, but surely interpreters should find it easy to move past cultural differences, no? I mean, I haven’t heard of my Spanish colleagues having any issues with being called “Monsieur” or “Madame” in Belgium or France, even though Spain is the least formal country I’ve ever been to.

The truth is I am afraid of formality. Though I’m fairly reserved in my relationships with people, I don’t think I’ve ever gone past college in this respect. For one thing, I went from struggling student to well-off globetrotter in a pretty short span of time, and, for the next, I’m afraid of getting old. When did I have to start dealing with grown-up stuff anyway? Who are all these people in airports, and restaurants, and conference venues, talking to me like I’m an adult? I guess, then, that it is also a form of regression that I may sink into, as a way of seeking shelter from the responsibilities of my new life, as well as a way to cope with the gap between a culture that respects neither women nor children and an ultra-formal, yet egalitarian one that I haven’t quite managed to understand yet.

Yeah, that, and the fact that I am no Madam, I am not a lady. Ladies do not yell or curse or gossip or say inappropriate things; they don’t get angry and start bashing people, even if those people are chavs or sleazy jerks or idiot bosses. Ladies get what they want by using tact and charm, not by going in head-first with the “my way or the highway” attitude. Ladies let shit slide sometimes, because they know it’s not worth the hassle. Ladies are decent even to people who don’t deserve it. I can only aspire to that.

Advertisements

How to Be a Nerd without Anybody Knowing about It

Kids, let me tell you a story:

Once upon a time, there were kids in school who did better than other kids. Some of those kids worked hard for their grades, spent whole afternoons memorizing pages upon pages of information they would never again use (or remember) after the next test. Some of those kids really didn’t try very hard. They would skim through their books in 30 minutes and get praised by their teachers and hated by their colleagues. These kids would rather spend their afternoons doing more interesting and valuable things, such as watching sappy Japanese cartoons. Both of these categories are nerds. I’ll get back to this.

Yeah, well… That happens the world over, so what’s so special, you ask? Well, the perspective. Here in Romania you do not (not in your school years, anyway) adopt and identify with this “nerd” status. You get branded with it and it’s not pretty. It all starts in junior high (fifth grade over here), ’cause up to that point all kids do kinda try to do well in school because they want to impress the big people. However, once puberty sets in and there are more interesting things to do than homework, kids begin putting themselves and others into categories.

But how? Unfortunately, here, this has more to do with the parents’ social status, than the kids’ actual identity. A rich kid who does well in school will never be considered a nerd. A poor kid who does well in school, but shares homework with the rich kids will never be called a nerd (to his/her face). A poor kid who does not do well in school had better have other qualities, because no one will pay attention to him/her otherwise (these guys have a sad fate most of time).  Basically, a poor kid who does well in school is a nerd. Because poor kids’ parents do not have money to buy them nice clothes and cars and scooters. Poor kids don’t go on class trips, they don’t have rich cousins abroad (or outside as we so lovingly call abroad in Romania), and on top of that they have the nerve to not feel so bad about it, because, smart as they are, they see a way out: it’s called learning. I’m generalizing, I know, but these are kids, they have simple minds.

The Romanian word for nerd (tocilar) refers to someone who learns everything by heart, does not have a life outside of school, kisses the teachers’ asses incessantly, knows the answers to all the questions in class, and is poor. It is used as an insult, not as praise. The concept excludes the idea of intelligence and logical thought.

See? Perspective.

Then these kids grow up. Now this could be the part where I rant about the nerdy kids making it in life while the popular kids end up losers, but that would be untrue and immature. Kids with rich parents will always do all right in life, because they have rich parents. And while they may have many qualities, and they do, rich parents are their main asset and a pretty powerful tool in post-Communist societies. The nerds will do well in life, better than the popular kids who are stuck in small towns, because daddy gives/gets them a job and they don’t look further. It’s just, well… it takes us longer.

And then we can buy nice clothes, actually get some sense of style (hey, it comes with practice, give us a break!), get a nice practical car (cos a Lamborghini on Romanian roads is simply a waste), travel the world for business and pleasure, marry and produce nerdy offspring. And nobody in our new life will ever know our pain and shame of having our intelligence insulted at the tender age of 11. Hell, we may even forget ourselves. After all, a grown-up who still sobs about what the other kids did to him/her in school is pretty pathetic.

Then we go to our 10-year reunions and see that even though we are now smart, successful, and stylish, we are still considered nerds. Because the popular kids’ glory days were in highschool, so they refuse to move on.

This is a simplistic categorization, but you see my point.

Welcome to my blog. Don’t expect too much nerdy stuff around here. In fact, don’t expect anything at all. Now go out and play. Or get laid. Or read a book.