The mood here at work is fucking grim. Literally everyone is pissed off and ready to walk. The only thing keeping that from happening is a fear of homelessness. Today the factory workers had a Christmas potluck lunch. One of the guys came into my office and told me Oswaldo wanted to talk to me. So I went out to the factory and everyone was sitting at a table and eating and Oswaldo pointed to the food and said, “Eat some food, Tim,” and then handed me a plate. I wasn’t even that hungry but anyone who passes up home-cooked Mexican food (or a genuine offer of friendship from good people) is an asshole.
And for the first time in my life, as I sat with these people in silence, listening to conversations I couldn’t understand, I felt honest and profound regret that I didn’t pay better attention in my Spanish classes back in high school. I realized today that by not learning to speak the language, I’ve really cut myself off from some genuinely good people and that is something that can only suck. I was still able to talk to some of them in English but most of the conversation was Spanish and I mostly sat around wishing I could say something other than, “Donde esta la biblioteca?” or “Jirafa de Fuego.” Still, it was a good time and, once again, a total foodgasm.