Years ago, a newly graduated interpretation student called me. He was feeling disheartened after attempting to contact some experienced interpreters in his town. He wanted to introduce himself and seek possible future partnerships. Out of the more than fifteen emails sent, there were only three replies: an “out of office”, an I-couldn’t-care-less-who-you-are and, finally, a friendly reply. In spite of this one kind soul, the apprentice was impressed by how many experts in his field had completely ignored him. Been there, felt that!
What the newbie didn’t know was that some professionals with countless booth hours develop the Delusional Interpreter’s Vain Arrogance (DIVA) syndrome. I explained to him what the syndrome was all about and reassured him it wasn’t personal. Our conversation went kind of like this:
John: I don’t get it. My emails were polite and professional. A mere “Thanks for your email” would’ve been nice.
Me: Yeah… Unfortunately DIVA interpreters are really common.
John: Then how come nobody talks about the syndrome?
Me: Let’s just say that very powerful people pretend the DIVAs don’t exist, okay?
John: You’ve got to be kidding me!
Me: Actually, no. It’s a very serious syndrome. (sounding FBI-serious)
John: So one day, will I become a DIVA, too?
Me: I couldn’t say, John. It really depends on individual predisposition. Just beware of the symptoms and you’ll be fine. When treated early, it’s totally reversible.
John: What symptoms are you talking about? I mean, if one day I don’t reply to a newcomer, does that mean I already have it?!
Me: Maybe, but not necessarily.
John: I’m confused.
Me: I know. I was, too, when I was new to this market.
John: You gotta help me here. I’m starting to think I chose the wrong profession.
Me: OK, John. Listen carefully. The first symptom you have to be aware of is amnesia.
John: The DIVA interpreters have memory issues? That makes no sense!
Me: John, I told you to listen carefully. What I mean by amnesia is that DIVA interpreters forget the world has many twists and turns.
John: Oh, so you mean…
Me: I’m not finished, John. (sounding like a middle school principal)
John: Sorry. Carry on.
Me: The DIVA interpreters also lose their remote memory. All the good manners they learned from their parents are gone in a flash.
John: They lose their remote memory?!
Me: There’s also strong evidence suggesting they have some kind of respiratory problem, causing them to walk around with their nose stuck up in the air.
John: Amnesia AND respiratory problems? That’s BAD!
Me: There’s more to it.
John: More?!
Me: The DIVA interpreters also become shortsighted.
John: Shortsighted?!
Me: John, if you keep on repeating the last word I say, we won’t ever finish the call.
John: Gee, I’m sorry, it’s just that I don’t want to become shortsighted after years of interpreting. (starting to panic)
Me: Get your shit together, John. I need your full attention here. Are you still with me? (sounding like a drill sergeant now)
John: (trying to get ahold of himself) Yes, and again, I apologize.
Me: I was saying… shortsighted…DIVAs only see their own belly button.
John: I’m sorry, but you’re seriously freaking me out now.
Me: Really? I haven’t even told you about the acute symptoms, yet. You’re cute, John. Maybe too cute to deal with the DIVA interpreters.
John: I’m too cute? I’ve actually always seen myself as kind of a tough guy.
Me: No, John. The DIVA interpreters will eat you alive if you don’t man up.
John: But I…I… (stuttering)
Me: Focus, John! You want answers?
John: I want the truth!
Me: You can’t handle the truth! (at my best Jack Nicholson voice)
John: Just tell me already. What is the acute symptom of a DIVA interpreter?
Me: Some DIVAs develop antisocial personality disorder, also known as sociopathy.
John: What the hell?!?! (losing it again)
Me: Yep. Sorry to be the one to break it to you, but you asked. I have to go now, we’ve been on the phone for so long, it might be suspicious.
John: Wait! Why are you only telling me that now? You were the one who encouraged me to take the interpretation course and now you scare the hell outta me with this DIVA story?!
Me: Take a chill pill, dude. I told you: it’s reversible.
John: So there’s a treatment for it?
Me: Yep!
John: What is it then?
Me: Sorry, have to go now… Take care! Bye!
And I hung up the phone. I was cracking up after freaking John out with the whole DIVA thing. But I just couldn’t help myself…it was so hilarious! Fortunately, John and I have managed to remain good friends to this day. Recently, we were working together at a conference and he brought the whole thing up again. We had some good laughs and took it up from where we had left off:
John: So after all, what cures DIVA interpreters?
Me: Finding out that a guy they ignored at first became a hotshot staff interpreter like you.
We both smiled and off we went to a very well deserved happy hour. Cheers!
If you’re interested in knowing more about interpreters’ syndromes and disorders, you’ll also enjoy this article: The Overwhelmed Conference Interpreter Disorder.
