A new/old job (Latin translation)

Dear Diary,

As you may recall, dearest diary, a week or so ago a multi-national translation company approached me to translate a very tricky little text. Check it out.

It's not actually that tricky, for someone that knows what they're doing. I am aware of at least one professor in Budapest that can read this like he's reading a copy of The Telegraph. Yet I'm no professor, nor am I a doctor of philosophy, nor even a high-school teacher. I'm a nobody, no one, nothing, the basest most servile slave that ever subsisted in this once glorious nation. I get ordered around by little boys and girls at work.

I do, however, hold a master's degree in classical Latin (not that that counts for anything in this country). It does, however, put me in a unique position to be able to translate such a manuscript as you see above. Anyone else that can do it is already employed in a good job, but this isn't Elizabethan England or Renaissance Italy: it's Dark Age Britain. Latin here is the language of beggars and slaves. It is not by any stretch of the imagination the language of the intelligentsia (even if it once was, in a far more enlightened and better time).

Internationally, however (beyond Britain's borders), it is still held in high esteem. What I predicted came true. It is not a mantic prophecy, but merely logic. Who the hell else are they going find to be able to translate this manuscript? No one, is who. Why? Because all of the people in the world with the highly specialised skill set required to undertake this onerous task is already employed in a good job. I've spent the past twelve years studying this precise skill. So. They approached me. I stated my price (one week's wages of working mopping floors, cleaning surfaces, washing the gunk out of dishes, taking out the trash and serving fast food). They told me to jog on. Then, lo and behold, after scouring the internet for a week or so, suprise suprise, they couldn't find anyone to be able to do it. So they came back to me. I may be too expensive for them: these people charge their clients either $1,000 or between $25-50 an hour... but cost translations at between 5-7 cents a word... Their customer service is based in India (or Pakistan) and their head-hunters are based in the Philippines (which tells me they like to do things on the cheap). I don't live in India, Pakistan or the Philippines. I live in Britain, so my overheads are higher than they would be in those places.

The contract is also very binding and constraining. The time horizon is also very tight. I would have to be able to deliver, and on a tight deadline. Fortunately, I am able to do this. It's actually pretty cool, because say, for example, I took up this challenge, and was able to do a great job of it (for whatever price), it is highly likely that this same company would come to me if they needed anything else like this translating. Why? Because no-one else can do it, or, if they can do it, they already have good jobs. (Even if Latin is the language of beggars and slaves in Britain, it is not elsewhere in the world, evidently).

It's pretty cool actually. I feel useful. There is only one problem: the price. I'll pitch high. Because I know that the will is there, as is the money. The client obviously wants this done, and they're willing to pay a lot for it. I will not see much of that money unless I play hard ball. This is worth something. It 'ain't squeezin' oranges. The only real question is can I be bothered to do this? Yes, but it will cost. Let's see what happens.

I grew up with a step-father that was extremely good at his job. He is a brick-layer, but not just any old brick-layer. A guy that used to live next door to my parents (a fellow tradesman) once asked my step-father to repair a broken wall, but the materials they had were really bad: bits of broken brick and stone. The guy said, "I'll just go and get some more bricks." By the time the guy got back, my step-father had completely renovated the wall so skilfully that it looked exactly like it was before it had been rendered. For all our fall outs over the years, he's a great tradesman. He also taught me how to negotiate, and negotiate well. He doesn't negotiate like other people. He drives a hard bargain. I remember him haggling for a bicycle. They wanted £15 for it, so my step-father offered him £12. The guy shook his head. So my step-father said, "Okay, £11." The bloke said, "I think the sun's got to your head." So, my step-father said, "£10, final offer." The guy shook his head again, and we began to walk away. The guy called him back and we bought it for a tenner. They needed him more than he needed them, and my step-father knew that. It is a gamble, but it's worth it.

What have I to loose by not taking this job? Well, not a lot seeing as they pay their translators between 5-7 cents a word (which is a fair price for a clean text in some modern language, but not for Latin palaeography). Yet, what do I have to lose if I pitch low? Time and money. It's a lot of work. If I pitch high, and don't get it, I've not lost anything at all (because I have no wish to work for 5-7 cents a word). Yet if I pitch high and get it, I have everything to gain. They need me more than I need them. Not just anybody can translate this. You would have to be a specialist that has studied and practised for years to be able to do this task. It's like playing music for a living. It's not just the 250 bucks for two hours playing music, what they're paying for is years and years and years of practise, learning scales, theory, arppegios, not to mention a good amount of natural talent to be able to do it in the first place.