The translation warrior strikes again

Starting Tuesday night at 10pm, returned call to customer, who, of course, was still at the office. Half of job has been cancelled. Set up meeting for next morning to go over questions for remaining part of job. Aversion to crowded trains keeps him from early morning appointments, so make this one for 11am.

After struggling awake, get to station half hour before train time, enough to enjoy a cup of coffee and to go over the questions, none of which he remembers. Quickly reminded of them.

On the train, and the translation warrior is off to Tokyo. Took the express, fairly confident it won't get packed at that time. Just barely right. Get to Roppongi 10 minutes early. Dive into Starbucks for an espresso. A fine break before the meeting.

After checking in at reception, manned by pretty, well made up, and cheerfully polite as only Japanese can be receptionists, head to third floor "waiting corner", which is a corner of a large room with tables in the middle and meeting areas in the perimeter. We get a small partitioned spot, the only place available at 10pm the night before.

Meeting goes as expected. Lots of problems in the Japanese. And the translation warrior's reading comprehension. But gratified that one of his questions was also asked by a FF customer, so it's not just the translation warrior. Take a lunch break, eating at a Vietnamese place on the first floor gourmet floor. Quite good. The girls are Vietnamese with accents and adequate Japanese.

Resume meeting after half hour break. Discuss how translation is priced, and possible future work. Good for translation warrior.

After meeting, go back to Starbucks, but, as usual, it's full. But there's another on the corner, also full, but he luckily gets a table on the second floor. Call friend whose little office is nearby. He joins him, and they bitch about the agent that takes a cut while doing nothing, absolutely nothing except get in the way.

This "meeting" over, off the translation warrior goes back to Minami Rinkan. He changes, gets ready to go to gym, and takes off again.

At gym, playing squash, a couple of unfamiliar young women with racquets show up. The translation warrior and friends have the court for the next hour, so he feels sorry for them. But something tells him they are pretty good. Racquets are in cloth sacks instead of the manufacturer's vinyl case. One of the guys offers to let them play. A vague response meaning no thanks. Afterwards, watching them, the translation warrior figures maybe a guy's strength and speed could make up for their skills, as they look and play like real squash players, not amateur clods like them. Another guy shows up, one with contacts throughout the squash community. Do you know them? the translation warrior asks. Yes, one's the current Japan National Champion, he says, rescuing the translation warrior from a potentially embarrassing ass-kicking. And conception of being able to take them goes out the window.