The Reluctant Interpreter

That morning in Saigon was crystal clear, the new sun just barely touching the roadside trees, reflecting off the glass facades of the skyscrapers as if sprinkling a thin layer of gold dust.

Huy zipped up his ride-hailing motorbike jacket, readjusted his helmet, and quickly checked the blinking app on his phone screen. The first booking of the day chimed, he accepted, started the engine, and his bike merged into the busy stream of people heading downtown.

In his hand, his old, rubber-worn earphone played a steady English voice. It was a podcast about business negotiation, filled with jargon that clearly wasn’t common content. Huy rode and mumbled, repeating a few sentences with a clear and quite standard pronunciation.

A female passenger, sitting behind him and winding a sun scarf around her, curiously asked: “What are you listening to? Is that English?“

Huy smiled over his shoulder: “Just getting used to the sound, ma’am. Besides, you never know when it might come in handy.“

After dropping the passenger off at her company in District 1, Huy stopped at a roadside stall and ordered his usual cà phê sữa đá (iced milk coffee). On his phone screen, notifications from his banking app reminded him of the money he needed to transfer for his younger brother’s new semester tuition. He looked at the figure, sighed softly, then smiled at himself. “It’s okay, a little hard work will do. I still have my hands, my feet, my strength.”

The regulars at the coffee stall knew Huy was no ordinary driver. Sometimes in the quiet evenings, the owner would slide a printed English email to Huy, asking for a quick translation. Huy would sit, diligently translating, crossing out and refining the text like a professional. The owner often joked: “If this guy hadn’t dropped out of college, he’d be sitting in one of those air-conditioned towers now, not here drinking coffee on the pavement.“

Huy only smiled, saying nothing more, but a mixture of regret and resignation flickered in his eyes. His father had passed away early, and his mother was chronically ill; the monthly medical bills were significant. In his final year of university, upon hearing his mother was hospitalized, he had to make a choice faster than any exam: Drop out to work and pay for her medicine. He planned to return a few years later when things stabilized, but life waits for no one. The tech-enabled motorbike taxi job, initially meant to be temporary, had become his primary source of income.

Finishing his coffee, Huy plunged back into the traffic.

Closer to noon, the sun intensified, and the streets were heavily congested. At one point, he had to brake hard when a child suddenly ran across the street, his heart giving a sharp thump. He saw the child being led by an elderly woman carrying large bags. He immediately pulled over, got off his bike, and gently escorted the grandmother and child across the road. The old woman thanked him profusely, and the child smiled, showing a gap where a tooth was missing. Huy waved his hand: “It’s nothing, ma’am, I have a moment.“

Just as he was about to return to his bike, he spotted a small wallet lying next to a lamppost. Huy picked it up, opened it, and found it full of ID papers and some neatly folded cash. He looked around, then suddenly recalled the girl in cream-colored high heels who had rushed out of a taxi earlier. Without a second thought, he mounted his bike, started the engine, and drove in the direction she had gone, hoping to catch up.

About 5 minutes later, he saw her pacing frantically in front of the building entrance, her face pale with panic.

“Ma’am, did you drop this?” Huy called out, raising the wallet.

The girl spun around, her eyes widening. After checking the contents, she was tearfully relieved: “Oh my God, these are my essential cards and documents, sir. If I lost this, I’d probably be out of a job. Thank you so much!” She took out some money to offer him, but Huy refused: “Please keep it so you can get to work on time. I’m used to driving; I just returned what I found.“

His bike rolled on. The man in the blue jacket continued through streets and alleys, leaving behind rushed thanks and relieved smiles. For Huy, it was the only way he could feel he was still doing something decent in a life he once thought had been derailed.

---

Later that afternoon, the app signaled a rather long trip, destination a tall, gleaming glass tower in the heart of the city, at a bustling intersection. Huy recognized the building name, having driven past it many times, but never had a reason to go up. He accepted the ride and maneuvered through the traffic.

Across the city, on the top floor of that very building, Thien Vi stood silently before a wide glass wall, looking down at the packed traffic below. She wore a sharp cream-colored suit, her hair neatly tied back. On the long conference table behind her, printed contracts, introductory dossiers, and cooperation plans were stacked neatly. In the center, a large screen displayed an English presentation slide, covered in dense text.

“Ms. Vi, the schedule for this afternoon is confirmed,” her personal secretary said, tablet in hand, speaking clearly: “The partner delegation arrives at 2:30 PM. The main presentation starts at 3 PM. The interpreter from the service company will be here 45 minutes early so we can brief them on specific terminology. The legal team has reviewed all clauses; there are no unfavorable points, we just need your final decision.“

Thien Vi nodded, her gaze still fixed on the street below. “It’s busier than usual today, isn’t it?” she said, almost to herself.

The secretary glanced down: “Yes, it must be close to rush hour, and our building is also hosting a press event, so there are many media people coming and going.“

Vi pursed her lips and lightly clenched her fist. If today’s deal succeeded, it would be another major turning point for the corporation she had built from scratch. It wasn’t just about the profit figures; it was also about securing the future of tens of thousands of employees across factories, stores, and offices.

Her packed phone calendar showed continuous meetings, site surveys, and back-to-back international business trips. Yet, perhaps no time felt like such a high-stakes gamble. This partner was demanding, known for their meticulousness in every detail. She and her team had been preparing for months. From strategy, finance, HR to branding, every sentence in the presentation had been carefully vetted.

A soft knock on the door, and another assistant stepped in: “Ms. Vi, the translation company just reconfirmed. They said our lead interpreter is on his way to the airport to fly in; no changes.” Thien Vi nodded, feeling slightly more reassured.

She returned to the conference table, picked up a printed slide, and quickly read through the bullet points, mumbling the English. She wasn’t perfectly fluent, but she knew enough to grasp the overall picture. She liked the feeling of having everything under control, not entirely dependent on anyone.

She recalled the early days of her startup, traveling alone to trade shows, holding English leaflets she couldn’t read, being viewed by foreign partners with a mix of pity and contempt. At that moment, she vowed that if she ever held a different position, she wouldn’t let the language barrier make her passive again. Today, she stood where she once dreamed, but the feeling of intense aspiration remained.

---

The wall clock moved its minute hand silently. Down on the street, Huy had just dropped off a passenger and looked up at the sparkling building name, whistling under his breath. “The place where the wealthy work is something else, so shiny.“

He pulled over for the passenger to alight, took the cash, thanked them with a smile, and turned away. In those brief seconds, his eyes swept past the glass wall where Thien Vi was standing. From that distance, neither saw the other; they were just two worlds looking through and up at each other, completely unaware.

Huy was about to start his engine when his phone screen signaled low battery. He clicked his tongue, decided to find a spot to charge it briefly. Near the tower was a small coffee shop. He pulled in, ordered a glass of iced tea, plugged his charger into a corner outlet, and unconsciously fixed his gaze back on his phone screen, resuming the English podcast. Words like joint venture, strategic partnership, equity echoed steadily amidst the noise of the shop.

Upstairs, Thien Vi closed the final dossier with a decisive gesture. She turned back to the glass window, looking down at the crowds again. For a very brief moment, among countless helmets of different colors, a blue jacket of a motorbike taxi driver sat hunched over a phone screen in the small café corner. She didn’t notice, but life’s path is strange. Some people who seem to only brush past each other are about to stand together in one room, jointly turning the tide for an entire corporation.

Neither of them knew that day that a sudden rain shower and a minor incident backstage would be enough to change everything.

The afternoon passed quicker than Huy expected. The sun was high, its light shimmering on the road, but the wind began to shift, bringing moisture and the distant smell of rain. In the small café, his phone battery slowly climbed from red to yellow, enough charge for a few more hours. Huy planned to drive continuously until evening, picking up a few long-distance fares to cover his brother’s outstanding tuition.

The English voice in his earphone was still steady. This time, it was a dialogue about preparing for a contract negotiation. They discussed setting up the meeting room, checking the interpretation equipment, and ensuring the interpreter understood the context. Huy smiled faintly to himself: “They’re so meticulous.” He paused the podcast, rewound to hear a phrase: “No interpreter, no deal,” and muttered: “Missing the interpreter means everything falls through, huh?“

On the top floor of the glass tower, the atmosphere began to change. Thien Vi’s personal secretary was on the phone in the corner of the room, her expression suddenly freezing despite her initial calm. The voice on the other end was mixed with the noise of an airport and announcements. She listened to the last sentence, simply said, “Yes, I understand,” and hung up, turning back with slightly widened eyes.

“Ms. Vi…” she began, trying to keep her voice even but unable to

hide the strain: “The translation company reports that the lead interpreter’s flight is delayed. He’s stuck at the airport outside Hanoi and they don’t know when he can fly in.”

Thien Vi looked up from her papers, her eyebrows slightly furrowed: “What do you mean? Don’t they have any other contingency plan?“

The secretary swallowed: “They said even the earliest possible flight would arrive late evening. They apologize, saying it’s force majeure; the airline changed the schedule.“

For a moment, the room was utterly silent. Thien Vi put down her paper, tapping her fingers rhythmically on the table, her gaze darkening. She asked: “What about the backup interpreter? The one who worked for us at the high-tech zone launch conference? Is he still on the list?”

The secretary immediately opened the contact list and dialed the number. The other end picked up, but it wasn’t the young man’s voice she remembered; it was an elderly woman’s. A brief exchange was enough to completely drain the color from her face.

She hung up, looking up: “Ma’am, the backup is down with a high fever since last night, hospitalized. His mother said the doctor forbade him to work; he’s on a drip. He apologizes, he can’t make it this afternoon.”

A cold shiver ran down her spine. Both primary options had fallen through on the same morning. Thien Vi was not one to panic, but the calculations in her head were tumbling. She stood up, walked towards the glass window, took a deep breath, trying to control her heartbeat. From here, she could still see the traffic below, the silhouettes of motorbike taxi drivers weaving through lanes. Everything outside was

A cold shiver ran down her spine. Both primary options had fallen through on the same morning. Thien Vi was not one to panic, but the calculations in her head were tumbling. She stood up, walked towards the glass window, took a deep breath, trying to control her heartbeat. From here, she could still see the traffic below, the silhouettes of motorbike taxi drivers weaving through lanes. Everything outside was running at its normal pace, while inside, a crucial link had just snapped.

The secretary spoke up, desperately clinging to hope: “I’m calling a few more translation agencies, but most conference interpreters are fully booked this afternoon. They said to get someone with industry expertise, you have to book a week in advance.” She spoke while continuously dialing, her voice growing increasingly urgent.

Every call ended with a polite but cold refusal. Amidst the sounds of dialing, another knock came. The communications assistant peered in, holding a stack of papers: “Ms. Vi, some press have arrived. I’ll take them to the designated area later. Do you need to review the bilingual press release?“

She took the stack, her eyes scanning the English paragraphs printed parallel to the Vietnamese. On paper, everything was perfect: smooth language, correct terminology. But how would they handle the main presentation itself, the Q&A session, the spontaneous exchanges?

She sat down at the head of the table, slowly saying: “Let’s assume we can’t find a professional interpreter within the next hour. What’s the worst-case scenario?“

The secretary was flustered: “If so, we either ask to postpone the session, or let the partner bring their own interpreter, and we only speak Vietnamese.“

The communications assistant interjected: “But they emailed, saying they want to hear the strategy directly from the Chairwoman. If we postpone at the last minute, it will certainly create a bad image, and the press is waiting downstairs.“

The air was thick; the silence now was heavier than any reproach.

Finally, Thien Vi slowly stated: “Postponing is the very last option, and as for letting them use their own interpreter, I absolutely dislike that feeling. All our nuances, our strategy, passing through someone who doesn’t understand our internal context can easily be skewed.” She paused, her gaze sharp: “Does anyone in the company have good English, perhaps studied abroad, or presented at international conferences?”

The secretary and assistant looked at each other. They called in a few names—a marketing staffer, a project leader, a guy from the investment department—who appeared somewhat confused by the urgent summons. Thien Vi went straight to the point: she gave them an English slide to interpret orally and then asked them to explain the concept.

Some had decent pronunciation but fumbled with jargon. Others understood the content but spoke hesitantly, lacking confidence. One young man tried to interject a few flowery English phrases but used them incorrectly, making the sentence sound more comical than formal. Thien Vi didn’t scold, just listened silently, then gently said: “Thank you all for being willing to help, but this afternoon’s deal is too important. I need a higher level of precision. Please return to your own preparations; I’ll call again if needed.“

When the door closed, only she and her two assistants remained, looking at each other, understanding how bad the situation was without words. They tried a translation app on the computer, typing in an anticipated partner question, waiting for the result. The Vietnamese text was enough for a basic understanding, but phrases like equity sharing, minimum guaranteed return, and right of first refusal were translated incorrectly. The secretary read a few sentences that even she found awkward. Thien Vi frowned, shaking her head: “Using this in negotiations is suicidal.”

Outside, the clouds were thicker. Through the glass, a dark grey streak was visible crawling across the sky. The wind blew strongly, fluttering the light jackets of people on the street. Huy was about to pay for his iced tea when he heard a faint rumble of thunder. The owner called out: “Looks like rain soon, son. If you’re going out, go quickly, or you’ll get stuck.“

Huy looked out at the pavement, seeing a few spots of water on the tiles. Professional instinct told him either to grab one more ride before the rain or find a safe spot to wait it out to protect his bike and himself. He decided to unplug his phone, put it in his waterproof pouch, and push his bike out of the shop. Just then, the rain started suddenly, without preamble, as if on command. The first few drops hit his face, stinging, then quickly became a heavy downpour, bursting on the road.

Huy quickly drove to the wide awning in front of the glass tower’s lobby. The security guards there were also scrambling to pull the event standees close to the wall to keep them dry. Seeing them struggle with a large sign, he immediately parked his bike, rushed in to help, holding the sign against the wind. An elderly guard, about his father’s age, smiled gratefully: “Thank you, son. What a strong wind.“

The rain grew heavier. The tower lobby became an impromptu shelter for passersby and a few employees without umbrellas. Huy stood near the edge of the awning, fiddling with his helmet, observing the flow of people. Even though he was safe from the rain, he resumed his podcast, adjusting the volume just low enough to hear. The familiar English voice resonated in his ear, blending with the drumming rain and the murmur of people.

A young female employee in office attire, holding her phone and a portfolio, rushed out under the awning, dialing a number as she ran. Standing close, Huy overheard snippets: “Yes, I need an interpreter urgently this afternoon.“… “No, not document translation, live translation in a meeting room. Yes, an investment contract with legal clauses.” She shook her head, her face growing frustrated: “No, if it’s after 5 PM, it’s too late, the partner is only here until the afternoon.” She hung up, dialed another number, the same urgent tone, the same explanations. Every finished call ended with a sigh.

Huy caught a few words, not daring to look too long for fear of being seen as nosy, but a thought crossed his mind: something important must be happening in this building.

---

On the high floor, Thien Vi’s phone vibrated. The secretary reported that the partner delegation had left their hotel and would arrive in about 30 minutes. They expressed great anticipation for today’s presentation. The phrase “great anticipation” now felt like an invisible rope tightening around her chest. 30 minutes for all preparations, while the biggest gap was wide open.

She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes for a few seconds. An image of her mother years ago, sitting at the old wooden table, diligently sewing clothes for hire to raise her children, flashed in her mind. Back then, if someone trusted her enough to entrust her with a few extra garments, it lightened the family’s burden. Today, thousands of her employees and workers were placing their trust in her to sign a contract that would determine their fate. She wouldn’t allow herself to give up because a single link was missing.

Opening her eyes, she saw her reflection in the glass, the tailored suit, the powerful posture, but her eyes held a hint of fatigue. She suddenly murmured, as if reminding herself: “Having come this far, there’s no turning back.“

She turned to her secretary: “Keep calling. Even if they’re not conference-level, as long as their English is good, they understand business, and are familiar with the corporate environment. We can’t be choosy now.“

Downstairs, the rain continued to fall heavily. Huy checked his app; bookings were slow as many people were hesitant to go out in this weather. He hesitated: maybe he should just sit in the lobby for a while, wait for the rain to ease, and then leave. He took out one earphone to hear the rain. The other ear still heard the voice: “Sometimes unexpected problems create opportunities you never imagined.”

He laughed, shaking his head: “What opportunity in this rain?” He didn’t know that in a few minutes, the frantic calls inside the tower and the English sentences he was silently rehearsing would intersect, pulling him from the ordinary pavement right into the center of a negotiation he had never dreamed of.

A while later, the rain showed no signs of stopping. Huy stood near the edge of the awning, resting one foot on the step, fiddling with his face mask strap, only one earphone on.

A group of three Western visitors emerged from the lobby, taking shelter under the overhang. They looked at the rain with a mix of delight and inconvenience. A man with salt-and-pepper hair turned to the guard and spoke a few sentences in English, asking for directions to a nearby restaurant. The guard merely smiled and looked at Huy for help.

Huy hesitated for a second, then politely stepped forward, tilting his head: “Excuse me, sir, I can help. Which restaurant are you looking for?”

The man turned, delighted as if finding a lifeline: “Oh, great. We’re looking for a decent Vietnamese restaurant nearby. Not too fancy, but clean and local.” He explained a few more details, even mentioning some dishes they should try. The three guests laughed happily, one of them spontaneously complimenting: “Your English is very good.” Huy waved it off: “Just enough to survive, sir.” Then he briefly translated their plan for the guard.

A few steps away, under the same awning, the young female employee was still holding her portfolio and phone. She had just finished another fruitless call to a translation company. Her mind was racing when her ear caught the clear English from Huy’s spot.

She spun around, seeing the motorbike driver in his damp jacket talking to the Western guests, his pronunciation surprisingly good. In that instant, a spark of hope flashed through her chaotic thoughts.

Huy turned to put on his helmet and ride away when the girl quickly stepped in front of him, her breath still catching: “Sir, you, the driver, did I hear you speaking English just now?”

He stopped, slightly surprised, and nodded: “Yes, I know a little, ma’am.“

She looked down at the app logo on his jacket, then up, saying quickly: “Can I ask you honestly, have you studied English professionally or been abroad? We have a very urgent situation here.“

Hearing the words “very urgent,” Huy instinctively wanted to step back, but seeing the worry and hope on her face, he couldn’t outright refuse. “I studied English at the Foreign Languages University before, but I dropped out a few years ago. Now I just listen to podcasts and read a bit; I haven’t used it in a formal setting for a long time.“

Upon hearing “Foreign Languages University,” the girl’s eyes lit up: “That’s better than I thought! Can you please come up and help us try for a bit? If it doesn’t work out, we won’t force you, but we honestly have no one else.” She spoke rapidly, pleadingly and anxiously, as if afraid the opportunity would vanish in a few more seconds.

Huy looked at the thick grey rain outside, then back at his phone screen showing no new bookings. He thought of his mother at home, his brother diligently studying in their cramped rented room. He thought of the phrase “No interpreter, no deal” from the podcast. Something urged him to try something different from his daily routine.

He let out a breath, a faint smile forming: “If you don’t mind a simple motorbike driver, I’ll go up and try, but I must warn you, I am not a professional conference interpreter.”

Relief washed over the girl when he agreed: “Please don’t say that, sir. We just need someone who can understand and speak clearly. Let’s go up quickly, it’s almost time!“

She signaled the security guard to let him temporarily park his bike near the lobby, then led Huy to the staff elevator. Huy stepped into the gleaming glass cabin, watching the floor numbers light up, feeling out of place. He adjusted his jacket, wiping the water from his hair, suddenly feeling a little awkward.

The elevator doors opened on the high floor. The corridor was carpeted in dark colors, lined with glass panels overlooking the city blurred by the rain. The employee explained briefly as they walked: “Our Chairwoman has a presentation with a major foreign partner this afternoon. The interpreter from the service was grounded by a flight delay, and the backup is hospitalized. We only have about 20 minutes before they arrive, which is why we’re taking a risk.“

Huy felt his throat dry. He silently rehearsed the jargon he had heard, determined to stay calm.

They stopped before the large wooden door of the main conference room. The employee took a deep breath and knocked softly. Inside, Thien Vi’s personal secretary was finalizing the review with the Chairwoman. Hearing the knock, the secretary looked up, and upon seeing the motorbike driver next to the junior staff member, a look of surprise flashed in her eyes: “This is…?”

The young employee quickly replied: “Yes, I ran into him in the lobby. He speaks decent English, studied at the Foreign Languages University before. I thought we could try; it’s better than having no one.“

The secretary scanned Huy from head to toe: the motorbike jacket still damp with a few drops, the faded jeans, the scuffed sneakers, all contrasting sharply with the polished environment.

From the head of the table, Thien Vi also looked up. Her gaze was not dismissive but clearly assessing. However, in this desperate situation, she didn’t have the luxury of being overly selective. She asked directly: “What is your name?“

Huy stood up straight and answered clearly: “My name is Huy. I studied Business English but had to drop out due to family circumstances, and now I drive a motorbike taxi. I am not a conference interpreter, but if you need someone to temporarily convey the meaning, I will try my best.”

The short statement achieved two things: he didn’t oversell himself, nor did he belittle himself. It was the honesty Thien Vi always valued more than smooth talk.

She signaled the secretary to hand Huy a printed English slide: “Try to interpret this section orally for me.” Her voice was even. Huy bent down to read, his eyes skimming lines about strategic partnership, long-term commitment, technology transfer. He took a breath and began to translate into Vietnamese. It wasn’t overly elaborate but was clear in meaning.

Thien Vi didn’t just listen to the words; she paid attention to how he handled difficult terms, how he connected ideas so the passage didn’t sound stiff. After the presentation section, she switched: “Now, I will speak, and you translate it into English for me.“

She spoke a long paragraph about the company’s vision, responsibility to its employees, and desire to find a partner who shared their values. Huy listened, holding each point in his mind, then slowly translated. He didn’t attempt a word-for-word translation but chose the words he felt were closest to the meaning, occasionally adding phrases like we truly care about or long-term win-win collaboration. The secretary standing nearby subtly nodded.

Of course, Huy was not without stumbles. When a specific legal term came up, he had to frown and think for a few seconds before finding the equivalent word. Thien Vi immediately asked: “Do you understand this point?” Huy answered truthfully: “I understand the concept, but I am not certain of the most specialized term. If this comes up this afternoon, I will ask to explain the idea rather than risking a literal translation.”