RANDOM SPANISH WORDS

Before moving across the country in 1970 my family lived in Kensington, Maryland, a few short miles from Washington DC. I grew up in the shadow of the center of the political universe, oblivious to its significance; 11 year olds have no business with inconvenient truths. My mother was able to manage a nice three bedroom place at University Boulevard West Apartments, just south of the Wheaton Plaza. Last I checked this complex was ‘repositioned’ in the market as condos.

Curiously, my last visit to the old haunt in 1996 brought me face to face with how time marches on for people and buildings, our lovely apartment was actually for sale as a condo. Thoughts of purchasing it entered my mind but were dismissed as foolishness; I had no plan to relocate from Seattle to the certain busyness of the nation’s capital. Still, seeing our family’s last abode on the east coast, with all its fond memories, took me back in time.

Meeting kids from far away countries was normal, in fact, a secure high rise called, The Helenwood Apartments, bordered our apartment complex and was home to families whose parent(s) worked at one of the hundreds of embassies in the area.

My best friend and soccer mentor, Paul, was from England, another close friend, Victor, was the son of the Ambassador from El Salvador. In the summer of 1969 I met Philippe, he was from Peru.

Philippe was ready to embrace all that neighborhood kids had to offer, he learned games we played with baseball cards and dice, Monopoly, court yard games like kick-the-can, and of course pool side flirting, our version of Love American Style! Paul and Victor were both very different from Philippe. Both were good looking boys and had that foreign mystery about them that always grabbed the attention of the girls. Both were always in competition with each other, somehow I managed to balance friendships with each.

Unlike either Paul or Victor, whenever Philippe would get angry he would speak loudly in his native flavor of Spanish. It all appeared to be random words and phrases, probably relevant to only him, I’m not even sure Victor (from El Salvador) could follow. Most of us would look confused, scratching our heads in disbelief while he vented. Philippe’s outbursts were preceded by simple language miscues, easily smoothed over because at his core he was gentle. Just the same, we all made efforts to figure out his angst and do our best to accommodate.

This was my first lesson in speaking ‘random Spanish Words’ loudly to get attention and accommodation.

In the largely bilingual city of Phoenix, a place I lived for 16 years, this ritual played out many times. Unlike the innocence of youth, most knew their tirades would produce attention and accommodation.

This past week I was on my own Winter Break, the kind that only middle age couples decide are necessary. My wife arranged for a hasty retreat to Puerto Vallarta for a week of sun, swimming, sleeping, shopping and a few other ‘s’ words. (Don’t make me spell it out, ok!) Our resort of choice was actually seven miles south of Puerto Vallarta in the small town of Mismaloya. We braved the local bus system twice to experience the local color of the bigger port city to the north. It was on the second trip I met up with the same language frustrations that surely plagued Philippe.

You’d think that bargaining for colorful t-shirts would be a simple matter, but on this day the language miscues bested me. It was late afternoon, while we walked amongst hungry street vendors in the river flea market, we came upon a vendor with shirts that finally interested me. Even while showing obvious enthusiasm at the prospect of a deal, their prices changed up and down with out explanation. I couldn’t tell weather business had been good for them or bad, they refused to be pinned to a final price unless ridiculously high. The markets seem to have their own bargaining language which serves everyone well… but not for me on this hot afternoon. I started to walk away they protested and dropped the price. I was likely more annoyed than angry, at that moment I remembered Philippe and 'random Spanish words'. I began to yell 'random Spanish words' back in their general direction as I lost myself in the crowd.

”Muy caliente!”
“Arriba!”
”Donde esta usted!”

I was quite a distance away when I heard a price yelled to me I liked. I continued…“Agua por favor!”

”Tiennes dudas!”
“Vaminos!”
”Bien, y tu!”
“Te quiero!”

Turning, I could see that tempers had flared a bit between the two men. I scampered back, and to the delight of one vendor we came to a quick agreement for the t-shirt.

My second lesson in speaking ‘random Spanish words’ loudly, if you don’t get their attention how will they ever accommodate you, or more to the point, WHY would they ever accommodate you.

I’m quite sure the t-shirt would still be in Puerto Vallarta had it not been for my Philippe-like tirade. I understand better the old saying, “The squeaky wheel gets the oil.” If you must leave the proverbial table at a negotiation, do it with flare and drama, try using 'random Spanish words' as you exit. You never know, it may get the t-shirt you really want.
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THE MATCH GAME

As an elementary school malcontent I was given to age-appropriate “slight of hand” strategies for begging off school. What I lacked in sophistication I made up for by sheer volume of attempts. In time the ‘sick day’ was my primary tool. I actually figured out that my chance of success was greater early in the week, say Tuesday or Wednesday, than later. Frankly, I needed Monday to survey the remainder of the week; school wasn’t all bad even at that age. Additionally, weekly attempts were of little value because the pattern was too easily exposed, hence a measured response worked best.

Match Game 101 – If it isn’t what you really want, winning is meaningless
Game shows were a marvelous way to escape the tragically mundane afternoons between morning cartoons and late afternoon reruns (i.e. Gilligan’s Island, McHale’s Navy, the Flintstones, etc.) on the days my dubious plot was successful. I could name all the biggies of the time, Let’s Make A Deal, Hollywood Squares, etc., but the game show that comes to mind is The Match Game. Like Hollywood Squares, this show had regular stars too, the most notable was Charles Nelson Riley. Riley, a lesser version of Paul Lind of Hollywood Squares fame, provided many afternoons of funny one-liners meant for adults but childish enough that I laughed out loud anyway. It was always great fun to see the contestants actually win money and prizes.

The really tough hours were after game shows ended for the day, leaving those oppressive 60’s era soap operas as the only viewing option, worse than medication-free dental visits for a preteen I can assure you. I soon discovered the expectation I had for ‘fun times on the lamb’ never matched reality.

Match Game 102 – Matches change with the times
Being a teenager in the 1970’s was exactly like trying to guess how the star panel would fill in the blanks of the statements read by Gene Rayburn. First, there is NEVER a right answer; second, if there is a right answer the panelists NEVER used it when you did! Matches were elusive.

In high school it was only the popular boys and girls that would pose in the main hall between classes and during lunch time. Pretty girls would cluster together whispering in low tones each time a school jock walked by. Any lustful glance back at the hens was rewarded with shy smiles and nervous giggles. The cool guys mostly spread themselves out along the walls just far enough apart that it was easy to hear their attempts at clever, sarcastic wit. I’m sure the likes of George Carlin, Sam Kinison and Robin Williams started out this way.

My place on the wall remained elusive despite being a wrestling jock and generally a class clown type. I never filled in the blanks correctly in high school for the ‘star panel’ of the wall, I didn’t drink, I didn’t sleep around, I didn’t smoke, and I didn’t cuss. At the time, I believed all of my “didn’t”s were the way to correctly fill in the blanks of life.

By the time my 30^th high school reunion came along I realized I hadn’t fared better than the wall posers at filling in the blanks to life. Some made out better, others worse. For all my moral high ground stances (didn’t drink, smoke, cuss, etc.) I managed to go through two wives, one bankruptcy, a few career changes, and one ugly IRS audit.

Match Game Final Round - The answer that always wins is the honest answer
I moved to Washington State in 1993 after spending 16 years in Arizona. My first contract job in Seattle lasted a full eight month before ending suddenly. Naively I believed my job shop would find me another job, after all, I was a captive consultant while my contract was viable. Wrong answer! So here I am suddenly without income, a struggling marriage, and bills to be paid.

For a month I submitted my resume to job shops for work, I even got submitted to a number of companies. All said I lacked the experience they were looking for! WHAT? My level of work was better than most consultants I’d worked with that were making much more than me. I had modestly raised my asking rate but when met with all the declines I lowered it again; still no success at finding work.

At the end of that fateful month in a moment of clarity I proclaimed, “I can be as unemployed at $30 an hour as $20 or $25 an hour!” I informed all the job shops my rate was now much higher. I realized my lower rate was the wrong way to fill in the blank, it indicated I was ‘entry level’ and didn’t match their expectation! At the new ambitious rate I had two contract offers a week later. I went from zero income to over $10k per month by finally filling in the blank with what I honestly believed I was worth as a software developer.

From all this I conclude, the best answers to fill in are the honest ones, the ones that are learned from life’s dispassionate lessons, the ones which don’t require climbing into someone else’s mind to figure out their folly or sense of fair play.

Winning one round of The Match Game of Life doesn’t mean I have it all figured out of course, those dispassionate lessons I referred too previously are still being taught. But armed with the right strategy, the prizes I win have value and meaning to me now.

Until next time, I hope all your Matches are the right ones!

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