I didn't catch the guy's name at first, but the voice mail said, "I need to take a look at a no cool." 

For a second, I was puzzled. (Who or what is "no cool?") Then, I remembered that we'd put in a service request to get the air conditioner (AC) checked. I contextualized a little..."no cool" must be industry jargon for "broken AC unit." Got it!

The voice message made me smile for a second, because, after I translated it, I realized help was on the way...during a very hot summer. Then I began thinking about the feedback I wanted to provide the technician:

• Empathize with your customers; broken AC units cause a households a lot of stress
• We're concerned about how quickly you'll fit us into your schedule; it's July and very hot
• We're fearful about the cost of repairs--yikes!
• We fear that you may charge us an unreasonable amount (because we no nothing about AC!)
  
• We generally have no idea what you're talking about, and you're talking about our house (a thing we feel we should know and understand)

The first bullets can be assuaged by some good customer service, professionalism, and empathy.

Just as important is the last bullet: We aren't speaking the same language. And that's adding to our stress and overall experience with your service guys. It also makes it hard to trust that we're making a good decision in authorizing repairs. (Read: in how we're spending money and taking care of our house.) Please, explain it in plain English.

In your business, what jargon terms or phrases do you say to customers or clients? What's the impact to the customer experience? (If you aren't sure, have you ever asked them?) How could you be more clear?

It's 2003, and I'm working for a university study abroad program in Madrid. I'm talking to Paco, our art history professor. He looks at one of our students, a Bulgarian woman. "She really sounds like a Spaniard," Paco comments. 

"I know! Her Spanish is excellent," I agree.

"Yes, she has a great command of the language," Paco said. "But it's her voice that's really authentic. She has a deep, raspy voice. That's what Spanish women her age sound like."

I filed this away in my mental "cross-cultural reflections" folder...

*****

Years later, I worked in corporate training and focused on women's professional development programs. Of all the topics I designed trainings for, communication was by far the most popular. (I'd average 30% higher attendance for any topic related to "how to sound like a leader" as compared to other topics like "mentoring" or "networking.") Clearly, communications skill building was in demand. 

What do you talk about in a training session on effective communication at work? 

When you focus on women in the workplace, it's a complex and nuanced topic (that's much more broad than this blog post), but the notion of pitch/tone is essential. In the U.S., in a professional setting, women are taken more seriously when they speak from the belly, vs. the throat. High-pitched voices are either filtered out, dismissed, or lose credibility. They may read "too emotional."

As I hear the occasional international news interview with women from around the world, I think about how, culture by culture, women are socialized to speak with a certain pitch. High-pitched voices may be considered sweet and feminine in some cultures, whereas raspy, deep voices may be feminine in others. We are socialized to learn what's right. Perhaps by our mothers and sisters. Perhaps at a training session at work. 

In a news interview, what's the impact of a soundbite of a woman who sounds shrill? 

How does this shape the viewer's opinion of the woman's point of view? To what extent does it detract from her credibility? 

How does the sound of the women's comment impact our opinion on the particular issue the news story is covering? (Or...extrapolating a little...on how we view politics? On how we vote?) 

I have a couple early childhood memories of judging others based on language:

• An older cousin married a guy from the South, and he called a supermarket "cart" a "buggy"
• My Canadian cousins use the terms "washroom" for "bathroom," and "variety store" for "convenience store"

These people were all speaking English, and overall we didn't have trouble understanding one another. The differences were subtle; however, as a child, I quickly picked up on them. It was just enough "data" for young me to make the assessment: WEIROs! 

As an adult whose work has focused on fostering intercultural communication, it's embarrassing to admit to the fact that these small language differences caused me to feel some distance from these otherwise lovely people. I knew that I spoke correctly. I thought they used some kind of low-fidelity copy of my language. And I thought they were missing something. I asked myself, What's wrong with them? How is it that they don't know the *right* words? 

(Clearly, I was missing a big piece of the story as it relates to the many regional varieties of English, and all the glorious diversity of accents, words, and grammar. I was also missing perspective on diversity dynamics...fortunately, that would come later in life!)

These examples are personal to me, but perhaps you have a similar example? 

The most striking examples of prejudice can show up when we interact with "others" who are, on the surface, not that different from ourselves. (My cousins share my DNA. They speak English. We have the same last name.) Based on my expectations and assumptions, (e.g., I thought we'd "speak the same language"), I felt discomfort with the differences that showed up in our everyday interactions. 

What similar experiences can you share?