Changing One’s Accent, #2

Foreign Languages, Outsider's Perspective

I once had a job assignment to monitor customers’ calls to troubleshooting agents.

The agents had to help customers with questions and problems with a combination of communication and entertainment services.

The goals of the call monitoring were to determine how well customers were being served, to identify agents who should be coached on their techniques, and to identify possible improvements to support applications and processes.

The native language of most of the customers, all of whom were in the United States of America, was English.

Spanish, however, clearly was the native language of some customers. These customers had limited or less-than-fluent skills with English, which they spoke with their native accent — for example, from Mexico.

One of my peers had visited a call center in Wisconsin, where none of the agents spoke Spanish.

Listening to calls and watching agents in action, she observed how they handled calls from customers whose first language was Spanish.

What she learned was a bit surprising but also made sense.

The agents who established the best rapport and communication with Spanish-as-first-language customers changed their accents to those of their customers.

Some might call this patronizing — or matronizing — but it makes sense to me.

Because the callers were hearing English spoken in the way that they spoke it, they understood the agents better.

What is your favorite story about changing one’s accent? Let me know!

Changing One’s Accent, #1

Foreign Languages, Outsider's Perspective

When I was in graduate school in Los Angeles, California, I met a young man who worked as an administrative assistant in my graduate department.

His name was Angus, and he had a Scottish accent.

I finally asked the department’s secretary about his accent, and she said that Angus was from the Valley — as in the San Fernando Valley, north of L.A.

I asked whether Angus originally was from Scotland. The response: “Oh, no. He simply decided to adopt a Scottish accent.”

And, as far as I know, he never broke his Scottish accent for what is called “Valley Talk”, which is a manner of speaking that is characteristic of those from the Valley.

That ability — to change one’s accent permanently — continues to fascinate me today.

To me, it is akin to changing one’s signature, which is difficult but can be done (I know because I did it.), or changing one’s handwriting style, which must be very difficult.

Put simply, changing one’s accent permanently must take a lot of practice, self-awareness, and effort.

What is your favorite story about changing one’s accent? Let me know!

“(… the G1 is NOT even close people)”

Commas, Devolution toward Simpler

I saw this in a comment below a blog post.

Problem:
A comma is missing.

Explanation:
The comment appeared almost immediately below the bottom of a blog post about how Blackberry can beat iPhone.

The commenter wrote “The only known true competition to the iPhone (yes thats right, the G1 is NOT even close people) is the BB Storm.”

Ignore the other problems, and focus on the end of the parenthetical remark.

The comment writer was telling his readers that the T-Mobile G1 cellphone should not be compared to the AT&T iPhone because the G1 is “NOT even close” to the iPhone in terms of features.

The writer was referring to his readers as “people”.

If you say the parenthetical remark aloud in the spirit of what the writer intended, then you will notice that you pause between the word “close” and the word “people”.

This pause should be represented by a comma, which gives us the solution.

In contrast, if you speak the parenthetical remark exactly as it was written, then the sense of the remark becomes twisted to mean that “close people” are not the G1 cellphone, which makes no sense.

I believe that this type of omission of a comma is consistent with my “Devolution toward Simpler” linguistic hypothesis. It is simpler to omit a comma than to write or type one.

Solution:
“(… the G1 is NOT even close, people)”