“I want to delay your time a little bit,” Zinc stammers out as he approaches me at my desk. He squats down next to me. His hands shake and I can see the concentration as his eyes tense up. His hand tremble and his lip shake. “I have … I have .. study english for .... many years … but it still not easy,” he gets out. As I speak to him you can tell that it isn’t getting through. He gets out that he wants to talk to me to practice English. We set an appointment and he has me write it down because his written is a lot better than his spoken English. Joe shook the same way when his turn came up during the conference call with the US a few weeks ago. It has got to be rough. You work as an engineer, but your boss only speaks English. John told me that the Engineering manager isn’t the best Engineer, but the one with the best English.
I hear singing down the hall. I poke my head in the open door. Miller is sitting on his mat on the lower punk strumming on his little blue guitar I tried to tune for him yesterday that a friend bought for him. Bear is singing his soul into a water bottle serving as his microphone. I don’t know the song, it is a Chinese pop song, but they aren’t bad. I have to grab my camera and get some pictures.
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