El Español
david hernández
Jan 30, 2021
Día de trabajo, a eso de las once y media o doce de la mañana.
Vuelvo al lío después del almuerzo y me encuentro con una compañera coreana muy simpática pero bastante peculiar, muy empanada, diciendo a otra compañera que no entiende lo que dice el cliente.
El cliente es un hombre de pelo cano de unos 60 o 65 años, con cara de estársele hinchando los cojones.
Vuelvo yo diplomático después de mi merecido descanso y observo la situación aparte, callado, esperando acontecimientos. Observo una vez más al cliente: gesto muy característico, nariz arrugada, agitando el dorso de la mano al viento en dirección a mi compañera. Total y completamente desmoralizado. Y de repente le oigo espetar:
— Bah…lo que sea — en español.
Entro en escena y, hablando en castellano le pregunto si procede de la madre patria.
— Sí — me contesta con brillo en los ojos y un halo de esperanza.
— ¿Y qué es lo que quiere? — indago.
Manos al cielo.
— ¡Un café con leche!
London, 2013. Coffee shop in Belsize Park neighborhood.
Work day, around half past eleven or twelve at noon. I go back to the work after lunch and I find a very nice but quite peculiar Korean colleague, completely out of it, telling another colleague that she does not understand what the client is saying.
The client is a gray-haired man in his 60s, his face showing that his balls are being busted.
I come back chilled out after my well-deserved rest time and observe the situation apart, quietly, waiting to see how the situation evolves. I observe the client once again: very characteristic gesture, wrinkled nose, waving the back of his hand in the wind towards my colleague. Totally and completely demoralized. And suddenly I hear him blurt out:
— Bah… whatever — in spanish.
I come into play and, speaking in spanish, I ask him if he comes from our motherland.
— Yes — he answers me with a sparkle in his eyes and a halo of hope.
— So, what would you like? — I ask.
Euphoria. He celebrates lifting his hands to the sky.
— A coffee with milk!
Work day, around half past eleven or twelve at noon. I go back to the work after lunch and I find a very nice but quite peculiar Korean colleague, completely out of it, telling another colleague that she does not understand what the client is saying.
The client is a gray-haired man in his 60s, his face showing that his balls are being busted.
I come back chilled out after my well-deserved rest time and observe the situation apart, quietly, waiting to see how the situation evolves. I observe the client once again: very characteristic gesture, wrinkled nose, waving the back of his hand in the wind towards my colleague. Totally and completely demoralized. And suddenly I hear him blurt out:
— Bah… whatever — in spanish.
I come into play and, speaking in spanish, I ask him if he comes from our motherland.
— Yes — he answers me with a sparkle in his eyes and a halo of hope.
— So, what would you like? — I ask.
Euphoria. He celebrates lifting his hands to the sky.
— A coffee with milk!
