I butchered a French man's name today. And I mean wholesale slaughtered it.
It wasn't even a strange, unfamiliar name with bizarre French spelling that would have left me totally clueless. It wasn't Jacquot or Apollinaire or Émilien or Amaury or Théophile. THOSE I would have looked up online before even attempting. No, it was Jean-François. Which seems easy enough.
Now, I don't speak French. But I'm not totally ignorant. And I like saying things right, and usually I manage decently enough.
So before I called the guy, I prepped myself. "Jean" like on Les Mis, Jean ValJean. Zhoh(n). Got it. "François," like Froh(n)swa. Piece of cake. It sounded great. Not native, sure, but legit. Educated. Cultured. I felt ready.
Then when the guy picked up, I totally croaked. Totally. Croaked.
"Hello, could I speak with, uh, Zheen, uh, Zhoh... ::mumble, mumble:: Frons..frans...fronswah?"
The reply came kindly in perfect English tinted so attractively with French accent: "This is he." He didn't make a point to say, "Yes, this is Jean-François (you pathetic American)," he just moved on like it was no big deal that I just shredded his name. I would not have been so generous.
He's probably totally used to it, but I not only decimated his name but then I tripped over the pieces! I hang my head in shame.
Thursday, February 19
I'm not as cool as I pretend to be
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5 comments:
Couldda been worse, it's could've been John Smith...... :)I think people who are forgiving like that are tender mercies just for me...
If it's any consolation, i'm sure you were not the first to butcher his name.
I think I should spell MY name Amaury. Hmmmm..........
You? Pronounce something wrong? I'm shocked. Mouth hanging down, shocked. :D
you name-messer-upper spume.
I laugh in your general direction. (in a French way no less)
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