Languages in LA

Here’s more multi-lingual fun from the city of angels. I bought a sofa and loveseat today. I hate shopping with a passion, so when I have to do it, I do it quickly. I was driving down Hollywood Blvd when I saw a furniture outlet place, a tiny room next to a liquor store, most unpromising. On impulse, I dove in, browsed for about 3 minutes, and found a nice moss-colored set for a reasonable price.

The owner was Chinese, and seemed a little startled when I looked it over for about 10 seconds and said “You deliver?” He was happy to assure me that they did, however, and though his English was limited, as long as we both understood “Visa” all was well.

Delivery was set for 2pm. What was interesting to me was that the owner, who said his name was John but whose accent compels me to call him Djon just so the reader doesn’t slip into complacency, had a Latino assistant helping him unload the furniture. It was obvious watching the process of unloading that Djon’s helper didn’t speak a lick of English or Chinese. It seems fair to presume that Djon’s Spanish was limited as well.

I watched with great interest as they each stationed themselves at an end and Djon simply used hand gestures to indicate that they would hoist up the couch, rotate it counter-clockwise, and the helper should back in first. And this wasn’t a desperate, awkward bunch of hand signals. This was as smooth as American Sign Language. These two men had obviously worked together plenty. Djon simply indicated what movements he expected to have to make, the assistant gave a brief nod, and my new furniture glided in like a bird settling into a nest.

I am, however, still glad that my dentist and his assistant are not communicating the same way.