The Office Mute

When I returned to Russia last month after 30 hours of travel, Dima was the first person I spoke with. Exhausted as I was, I greeted him in Russian and then launched into an explanation of how I only wanted us to speak to each other in Russian from then on.  All the while, I wove erratically between the formal and informal forms of address, even though formality went out the window sometime around the evening he accidentally opened the door for Molly and me in his underwear. My attempts to change our language of communication were not remotely successful.  Our very next conversation was in English and we haven’t gone back since.

I resolved to make the office my new “Russian only” language zone.  I stuck to that plan, but I also didn’t say anything other than “Privet” for two weeks. I really don’t know why I get so nervous about speaking Russian in certain settings—after all, I have no shame telling gypsy cab drivers my life story and I’ve been known to chat up young gentlemen on Molly’s behalf, even telling one guy she thought he was “wonderful” because I didn’t know the word for “cute.”  But when it comes to speaking Russian in front of English-speaking Russians, I refuse to open my mouth.

I very well may have remained the office mute for all eternity had fate not stepped in—by locking me out of my office last week. With nowhere to go and nothing to do, I plopped myself down next to the receptionists and another co-worker, gathered my nerves, and started making conversation. They were surprised I could speak in full sentences, and even more astonished to discover I had a personality (I made a joke about how awful Russian men are).

“Dzhessika,” they asked, “where did you learn to speak Russian so well?!”

I’m not letting their compliments go to my head because I know I still have the vocabulary of a kindergartener. In fact, I’ve re-enrolled in Russian classes and have also started watching a Russian TV series recommended by a Russian friend. So far I’ve learned the phrases, “Don’t leave me,” “I’m pregnant,” and “Bastard!” I’m not sure that will be of much help in the office, but at least I’m prepared if I start a turbulent relationship with any of the aforementioned “awful Russian men.”