Today, the lady who keeps after my building received a piece of mail for me. When I returned home from doing laundry, where I was mocked for having had George W. Bush as a president, I found that my clothes weren't alone in being worked into a lather. Whatever her name is, she gave me quite the dressing down for receiving mail without telling her and proceeded into an incomprehensible (to me) rant.
After about five minutes of this, while she's still yelling – I slinked away to my apartment wishing I had a way to communicate to her. Thanks to the magic of Google Translate, I can. I typed up a quick note of apology, translated it and then jotted down a note on paper, which I slipped under her office door.
"Je suis désolé pour créer une confusion avec le courrier. Je vis ici, à travers Juin et recevoir du courrier de temps à autre. Je vais également travailler sur la compréhension plus français."
Upon returning from not finding the cell phone store an hour later, I received a warm reception and smile. Thank you Google.
1 comment:
ahha -- did she just think you had just decided to have your mail sent to her address? Yes, Google Translate is the best. It helped us explain to our landlord that the washing machine was holding water and would not drain. Strangely, my Beginners Working Spanish had not prepared me for that conversation...
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