Mental Trackmarks

Campground, campground, campground–how I love the lessons you teach. I have amused more French-speaking campers than I can count (in any language) with my attempts to communicate. One of the families that came through was as hopeless in English as I was in French and we almost laughed ourselves foolish through pantomimes and gestures. The teenage daughter excused herself to laugh on the deck outside of the office because she was giggling too hard and eventually realized that she should be self-conscious because she was, after all, a teenager laughing like mad in the presence of her parents. Rather than describe the actions I will leave it to your imaginations to picture the discussions on the size and quantity of mosquitoes and the quality of the College of Piping’s dance performances in Summerside.

People on vacation want to be happy. That is the best part of being here (dancing in the office and making funny faces while pretending to swat mosquitoes is a close second).

The variety of people is wonderful. Not always the individuals, but the variety is amazing. I have accumulated many more stereotypes (very few are negative) and many more exceptions to them. I like to think that I am cheerful, polite, and resourceful enough to eventually figure out what people want and get it for them. I did blow one situation today through and only through the greatest of luck did things work out very well–all thanks to a lady from California.

For reasons known only to the gods that govern camping traffic near large bridges, there was a rush of people (about five groups at the same time) this evening around 7:00pm. This is quite unusual for a Sunday evening. As I worked through the groups that were in the office I had my head down quite a bit and when I had a piece of paper slipped into my view I was surprised. Two gentlemen passed me a piece of paper that asked me if I had a cabin to rent. I answered that I did not. They looked puzzled and wrote another note. It said that they would like to have a cabin but would take a tent site if there was no cabin. I again said that there was no cabin available but I had a tent site available if they wished.

I am sure at this point you, the reader, have figured out that they two men were deaf and me telling them that there was no cabin was very close to useless. How I could remain so damn stupid after these two exchanges staggers me. I figure I am pretty clever and astute (I even mentioned my cleverness above, remember?). Yet, I did not catch on that speaking to a deaf person is not the best means of communication–ESPECIALLY WHEN THERE IS A PAD OF PAPER RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. But, stunned I was. Then, because I have more good fortune than I deserve, a lady from California was waiting behind the two men and she was very capable with American Sign Language. She and the two men had a great conversation and quickly forgot about me and the cabin. I was able to help the remaining people in the office find camping sites and then waited and watched the silent and beautifully expressive conversation.

One of my deeply held beliefs is that communication is fundamental to understanding (obvious) and understanding reduces conflicts (reasonably obvious, I hope) and fewer conflicts makes people happier (not going to prove it but it has held true for me). Being in a situation where I was unable to communicate I immediately felt awkward and helpless. It was only a small step from that to being embarrassed at my gaff, worried about causing offence, and becoming more nervous than I had been when dancing and swatting mosquitoes to the mortification of a stranger’s teenage daughter.

The lady from California allowed all of us to communicate easily and, dare I say it, comfortably. She and her family went to settle into their camper and the two guys went off to pitch their tent. I came in here to write and think a bit. I will do better next time.