I have a theory that the recruitment process for call centres includes the requirement that successful applicants have a strong local accent. We have a very wide variety of accents in these little islands up here, so it can sometimes be a problem. I have no trouble with most of them. Essex, Dorset, South Wales, Lancashire, Yorkshire, Tyneside, Dundee and Shannon are fine. The two I find difficult are Belfast and Glasgow.
Why Glasgow should be a problem is a mystery. I understand every word uttered by Billy Connolly and Rab C Nesbit, so why not the people in the call centres. Am I to assume that Messrs Connolly and Nesbit ‘talk posh’ by Glaswegian standards?
Having difficulty with Belfast ought to make more sense, because the native language of Ireland isn’t English. And yet I have no difficulty with Gerry Adams. And the south of Ireland is dead easy. They talk beautifully. You only have to listen to Ken Doherty once to learn that the Gaelic for ‘I thought’ is ‘Oi tart’ and the rest is simple. (This should not be confused, of course, with the English phrase ‘Oy! Tart!’ which means something else entirely.)
So what is it about people in call centres? I’m mystified. Even people from overseas give me no trouble. When an Indian man once told me he had no accounts because they’d been stored in the loft and had been ‘eaten by rats and Moses,’ I understood exactly what he meant. I even understand Americans, for heaven’s sake, as long as they speak loudly enough. (American actors, on the other hand, do give me trouble. The old ones didn’t – Bogart and the like – but the modern bunch tend to mumble quietly and drawl, while turning their heads away from the camera to look moody. About the only one I found clear as crystal was Forest Gump.)
Good morning America. (Thought I’d better add that in case 90% of the few people who speak to me stop speaking to me. Phew!)
I have another theory: I think it’s because I can’t see their mouths moving. I wonder whether I’m learning to lip-read as my hearing descends into dotage. Maybe I need one of those trumpet things.
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7 comments:
‘Oy! Tart!’ -god, you crack me up. Great post, Jeff. I used to feign a cockney accent long ago and tell boys at the playground that I was just visiting here in the States. If you get yourself a hearing trumpet I hope you take a photo of yourself and post it hear, er, here.
A cockney accent, you say! You're a revelation, Shay. What a talent.
***low sweeping bow
ha ha! Really? I think American accents are easy for me to understand. In fact, British accents are hard for me to understand! This one time a guy from England came to give us a talk in scripture class, and I couldn't understand what he was saying! Ha ha. I don't know- actually, maybe it's because I don't watche enough British shows/movies... I should start doing that.
British accents hard? Lucy! Maybe he came from Glasgow or Belfast. Northumberland can be tricky too. I followed a family around a shop up there once, and assumed they were foreign tourists. I couldn't understand a single word they were saying to each other. I was behind them at the checkout, too, and they were speaking English with a Northumbrian accent to the checkout operator. The rest must have been dialect.
Makes me think of Thurber's "The Black Magic of Barney Haller", in which the narrator is convinced his handyman is practicing sorcery. "We go garrick now, become warbs".
Fascinating tour of British vernacular I know so little about. I lost my New York accent living out of the U.S. for so long – unfortunately – it can come in handy when you're angry. Thanks for this.
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