Usted Mierda. Lo sentimos.

Happy Anniversary, Ladies:

While searching for my favorite e-mail from the past year I came across this little gem and couldn’t resist. It’s not necessarily my favorite but is too relevant to pass up.

I’m working on yet again, another Spanish ad campaign [new blog readers: I work on the marketing team for a pharmaceutical company]. Instead of starting this project, I’m currently searching e-bay for used copies of Rosetta Stone.

Needless to say, I removed “fluent in Spanish” from my resume.

Dear Bridget,

I apologize for being estranged this week, but am so swamped at work. I’ve really gotten myself in to a pinch here ever since I embellished my resume. I’m not a fluent Spanish speaker, and should not have implied that I was. I speak broken Spanish at best. The only thing I have going for me in this situation is that nobody around me speaks it, and therefore my translations are never questioned.

Just barely I had a coworker walk a letter up to my desk from an angry Spanish speaking consumer and asked me to translate. Again, I speak broken Spanish, not pissed off Pharmaceutical Spanish. To boot, I don’t decode handwriting very well, either. I recognized two words out of the whole foreign chicken scratched letter.

“She’s having a drug interaction. And she’s mad… About that” (Lies).

My coworker gave me a look like she was impressed with my worldly communication skills, then asked if I could write the angry woman an apology letter. Fantastic.

After closer inspection of the letter, I found out that the woman was upset because her irritable bowel medication is making her bowels more irritated than before. What am I supposed to say to that, Señora Martínez, I’m sorry that our medication is making you sh*t. It sounds like you have enough sh*t in your life already, and the last thing you need is more sh*t.

You’d think studying in Spain would give me the language skills needed to respond to such a letter. But no, I live in Utah, the whitest place on earth and haven’t spoken Spanish outside of work projects since I’ve been home (for almost 4 years).

With the incredible wealth of my Spanish vernacular, I’ve come up with this: You shit, we’re sorry.

The story of my life.




Filed under Bianca

9 responses to “Usted Mierda. Lo sentimos.

  1. Part of the answer lies in the diet and Spanish cuisine. I think the disorder has more to do with nervous system than gastric system (have not looked it up-lazy me)but seems like that old computer lingo of “garbage in=garbage out” fits the Spanish food eater just right.

  2. After 21 years in Texas, I can still barely speak enough spanish to order a taco…. 🙂

  3. justmarriedgirl

    The only “advanced” Spanish I know is: el gato zabatos, which I believe means cat shoes. You can see how useful this might be in real life situations. I took French in HS and in college and can only read some of it, but luckily, I’m never called upon to use my French (non) skills at work or anywhere else.

  4. This did make me laugh, even though it was a little sad. You’re a great writer!


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