Interpreting·
In consecutive interpreting, the speaker talks and then stops, and I say the same thing in the other language. Everything difficult about it comes down to one question: how much is he going to say before he stops.
Notes are not a transcript
While my client speaks, I write. Not sentences, and not most of what he says. Meaning is what memory is good at holding for a minute or two. What memory drops, and drops instantly, is exactly what cannot be approximated: numbers, names, dates, units, and the word not.
So the page fills up with those, plus arrows for how the parts connect. Then I look up and speak, and the notes are there to stop the two or three things that would otherwise go missing.
When there is no pen
A factory floor, a walk between buildings, a machine running, both hands occupied. No notes, and a client who is mid-explanation and enjoying himself.
The answer is to make the chunks shorter, which means interrupting him.
Without a pen, a longer stretch comes back as a version of what he said with the third point missing and one of the numbers softened.
Better to raise a hand and say: let me put that across before you go on.
If you got it wrong, say so immediately
This is the part people find hardest, and it matters more than any of the rest.
I was interpreting for a delegation from China at Irvine City Hall. The host was presenting a zoning map, the kind where every color means something: some areas green, some grey, others in colors I no longer remember.
He said green. I heard grey, so grey is what I said in Chinese.
As soon as I realized, I stopped and told the whole room: I made a mistake, I mistranslated, not grey, green.
Plainly, and with no story attached to it. The reason is not honesty for its own sake. It is that an error does not sit still. On a colored map, one wrong color moves whole districts of a city, and every question asked after that would have been asked about the wrong part of town.
Five seconds now, or a meeting spent untangling something that never happened.
Ask rather than guess
There is a difference between not hearing something and not understanding it, and both have the same fix: ask.
An interpreter who asks the speaker to repeat a figure looks careful. An interpreter who guesses looks fluent, right up until the moment the guess is wrong, and nobody in the room has any way of knowing which one they are getting.
What people are actually buying
Not fluency. Both sides can usually tell that already.
They are buying the certainty that what they heard is what the other person said, including the parts that were awkward, including the number that was smaller than they hoped. An interpreter who interrupts, asks, and corrects herself is the reason anyone can rely on what happens in the room.