Lost in Translation Part 2 – Working Girl by Persephone

Sometimes going through transition can feel like you're walking through a minefield. And sometimes you actually are...

 
 
Coventry – England - 2019

Despite a lousy night’s sleep Josie managed to drag herself into the office by nine o’clock the next morning, getting some surprised looks as she self-consciously hunted for a vacant hot desk.

With Doctor Beecher’s words still ringing in her mind Josie had actually been up since before seven and had spent quite a bit of time making the effort to get herself ready. Despite not exactly having a large wardrobe of suitable work attire to choose from she was happy enough with the grey trouser suit, cream blouse and black pumps she had finally selected. Equally, at least after the second attempt, she decided her make-up was appropriately restrained and appropriate, and once again thanked god that her electrolysis was pretty much complete. The early autumn weather was still warm so even the thought of working in a stuffy office all day under the pancake layer of foundation needed to hide a five o’clock shadow made her shudder.

At length she finally found a free desk away from the noisy area where the duty phone interpreters were already busy and had started to set up her laptop when an arrogant braying voice interrupted.

“Ahh! Josh. I mean Josie, umm… Miss Wells!” Mister Dwyer (and it was always ‘Mister’ Dwyer, never ‘Eric’ and certainly never just ‘Boss’) strode across the office as he spoke and shoved his hand forward in greeting whilst maintaining a rigidly straight arm to keep her at a distance. Jeez, it’s as if he thinks I have some bloody infection. Josie tried to assemble a neutral smile for her boss as he quickly dropped her hand.

“We don’t often see you in. As you can see we’re quite tight on space. Have you managed to get yourself a hot desk?”

Josie glanced down, taking in her laptop, notebooks, handbag and jacket all arranged over the desk and chair before replying. “Umm… yes thank you Mister Dwyer.”

“Good, good. And did you manage to finish up the two Gazolec contracts yet?”

“Pretty much. I just need to get back to the author of the English contract to check a few things. That’s why I came into the office today.”

At Josie’s explanation a frown appeared on Mister Dwyer’s face. “Is that really necessary? I’m sure we could arrange for another translator to review your work rather than bother the client if you’re not confident.”

“It’s nothing like that.” Josie was damned if she would call him sir. “It’s just that some of the legal terminology the author used either doesn’t have a direct translation, or, as it is currently phrased, would be open to interpretation. So rather than me taking a guess I imagine the client would welcome the chance to ensure that the intent and language is exactly what they want.”

Mister Dwyer stared at Josie for a long moment and she could almost see the cogs whirring, rather slowly, behind his eyes. “Um OK Josh…ie,” he stumbled over the name, “but don’t do anything to upset them. As a new customer that last thing we want is to come across as always needing our hand held.”

“Very good Mister Dwyer.” Josie waited to see if any other pearls of wisdom were forthcoming. “If there’s nothing else then….”

He stared at Josie for a moment, his frown still in place. “Oh, yes, Carol from HR will be dropping by to see you later on. Something about ‘equality and diversity’ she said, and of course we want to make sure we are all doing everything we can to support you.” He managed to pick out the two words with the care of a housewife picking up a dead mouse.

“OK, I’ll look forward to that.” Josie replied with a bright little smile, determined that she wasn’t going to be the only one lying through their teeth. “If that’s everything I better get on then hadn’t I?”

Over the next hour the office continued to fill up and the noise levels rose with the competing babble of Romanian, Polish, Pashtu and Urdu conversations as her co-workers on the telephone lines acted as interpreters for social services, legal aid, immigration and the police. Fortunately for her Josie’s corner remained relatively quiet and she was able to discuss her contract with one of the lawyers from the client much to the individual’s relief when he realised exactly what he had been in danger of offering. Finally satisfied that she had translated what he actually meant rather than what he had written Josie saved the file and went in search of a cup of tea.

As she self-consciously wended her way between the busy work pods her inbuilt antenna twitched.

“… hijra…”

She picked out the word from a stream of Urdu and unthinkingly turned towards the source. Standing by the water cooler she quickly noticed two of the Indian interpreters glancing at her as they tried to mask their snickers. She knew both of them. Both born and raised in the UK and educated to degree level. Each had been friendly to Josh when he had first started work and had helped him get settled in. Obviously from their attitude now, that acceptance is very much a thing of the past. Josie paused and gave them a long calculating stare until they dropped their heads and turned away. She sighed, had she really expected anything else?

Josie finally got to make herself a mug of tea and was making her way back to her desk when a rather earnest young woman appeared at her side.

“Josie? Josie Wells?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Carol Hennessy. I was on the interview board when you joined?” She paused, looking expectantly up at Josie. “From HR?”

“Oh, Carol… of course!” Josie lied through her teeth. “Mister Dwyer mentioned that you wanted to talk with me.”

“Well, as you’re free now we could have a quick chat in my office?” Again Josie was subjected to that expectant look. “It will only take a few minutes.” Then, without waiting for a reply, she headed off towards the lifts and the rarefied heights of the fourth floor. Josie rolled her eyes and, still clutching her precious mug of tea, followed obediently.

“Now Josie, I want you to know that here at LingServ we take equality and diversity exceptionally seriously. In fact this year we were even nominated for the Stonewall supportive employers award!” Carol chirped before Josie had even had a chance to sit down across the table from her. “So we are all here for you should you need us and anything we can do please don’t hesitate to ask.”

At that Josie perked up. It was the first she had heard of the company having any form of support for transgendered employees in place. “That’s really kind, thank you Carol. Have there been any other transgendered staff here?”

“Oh no. You’re our first!” She made it sound to Josie as if she had become some sort of corporate trophy. She could just see herself being crowed about at the next board meeting. ‘Oh yes we now have our token transgender employee. Played right we should be up for a couple more awards and it will look great in our annual corporate responsibility statement.’

“So what support exactly is in place?” Josie asked. “I only wonder as I’ve been paying in to the corporate private health insurance programme and some of the treatments are quite expensive.” Josie already knew the answer. The company’s health cover very specifically excluded transgender medical treatments.

Carol’s bright smile slipped a bit. “I’m not entirely sure, however let me take an action to investigate and I’ll get back to you OK?”

“That would be lovely. Thank you.” Josie chewed her lip to hide a smirk.

“Anyway, there are a few details we need to run through if you don’t mind. Just routine stuff to update our records and to make sure we have everything in place to support your choice.”

Josie was barely able to bite back a snarled comment that it wasn’t a fucking choice but Carol had already ploughed on regardless. “So, are you currently pre op or post op? Are those the right terms?”

Josie stared at her in shock. “Are you sure you should be asking that?”

“Oh yes. Head Office put a questionnaire together for us to use and everything. It’s so we can plan for future sick leave and the like. Now, where were we? Oh yes, did you say you were pre op or post op?”

Fifteen minutes later Josie almost stumbled out of the meeting room with Carol’s cheery promise that her door was always open ringing in her ears. The interview had been one of the most ham fisted and intrusive interrogations Josie had ever experienced. All delivered in Carol’s syrupy sweet tone as if it would be unthinkably rude not to answer as, of course, it was all being done just for Josie’s benefit. As soon as the lift doors closed behind her Josie slumped in relief at having escaped. Sheesh, that woman would have made an evil interrogator. If she hadn’t been banned for cruel and inhuman use of a sickly sweet voice. Josie finally decided.

When the lift finally released her Josie realized her desperately needed cuppa was now barely lukewarm so she retraced her steps to the kitchen area for a refill.

“You’ve escaped ‘Little Miss Muffett’ then?”

“Oh, hi Amrita.” Josie acknowledged one of the few female interpreters who had actually gone out of her way to support Josie since she had appeared. Amrita Deepak looked like a typically cosy Indian Amma. An impression that hid a razor sharp mind and a wicked sense of humour. She finished squeezing out her teabag and adding a splash of milk before Amrita’s comment caught up with her. “‘Little Miss Muffett’?”

“Carol from HR. Sweet as pie to your face and a poisonous spider as soon as your back is turned. What did she want you for, other than the obvious?”

Still smarting from the interrogation Josie gave a cynical snort. “Apparently I’m their latest equality and diversity mascot.”

“Lucky you. Did she mention how many equality and diversity brownie points it was worth at Head Office?”

Josie laughed. “I didn’t realize it was about scoring points for Head Office.”

“It pays to know the game dear. If I had known she was after you I’d have given you a few hints to get a better score.”

“How?”

“Well, if you’d cut off a leg, painted yourself black and called yourself a lesbian she could have got the full set!”

Josie sprayed tea halfway across the kitchen. “Amrita you are utterly outrageous. Bloody funny, but a walking politically correct free zone!”

“That’s me dear.” She chuckled. “Oh, and by the way, young Sandeep and Srini?”

Josie frowned as she recalled their snickering comments about Hijra. “Oh, what about them?”

“One of the girls mentioned their behaviour to me. Let’s just say that I know both their mothers. They both have an interesting discussion awaiting them when the get home tonight!”

Josie stared open mouthed. “Umm… thank you. But why?”

“One of my cousins was Hijra dear. She was such a lovely happy girl who we always called on for wedding blessings.” Amrita’s face fell slightly. “Well, at least until they found her body dumped in the canal.”

That evening Josie went to bed early. She felt emotionally drained by everything that had happened and also humbled, both by Amrita’s support, and by her confession. She tried to imagine herself living in the poverty and squalor she knew to be too often the lot of Indian Hijra and failed. In comparison transitioning in England was a breeze.

With that thought in mind Josie made herself a promise. She would push on and she would achieve her goal. And the first step was tomorrow and a training night at her squadron’s reserves centre. It was time she went back to war.