Todos nós que trabalhos com blogs recebemos e-mails todos os dias com elogios, críticas construtivas e também alguns e-mails bem difíceis de ler pois vêm com insultos. Muitas pessoas se esquecem de que há uma pessoa por trás de cada website, de cada atendimento ao público e hoje nosso post traz duas historinhas que ilustram bem isso. Traduzi algumas das expressões mais difíceis, ok?

My friend Sarah has run a small online business out of her living room for 12 years. It’s her whole life; she takes it very, very personally.

Last week, one of her clients sent her a ten-page long scathing (contundente, mordaz) email, chopping her down (acabando com ela), calling her a scam artist (oportunista, enganação) and other vicious (cruel) personal insults, saying she was going to sue (processar) Sarah for everything she’s worth, as retribution for a mishandled account (conta mal gerenciada).

Devastated (arrasada), Sarah turned off her computer and cried. She shut off the phones (desconectou os telefones) and closed up shop (baixou as portas) for the day (o resto do dia). She spent the whole weekend in bed, wondering if she should just give up (desistir), thinking maybe every insult in this client’s letter was true and she’s actually no good (ruim) at what she does, even after 12 years.

On Sunday, she spent about five hours most of the day carefully addressing (tratando) every point in this ten-page email. Then she went through the client’s website, learning everything about her and offered all kinds of advice and suggestions, and connections. Sarah refunded (reembolsou) the client’s money plus an additional $50 with gushing (efusivo) deep apologies for ever having upset someone she was honestly trying to help.

The next day, she called the client to try to talk through the situation (resolver a situação) with her. The client cheerfully (alegremente) took her call and said “Oh! Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t actually that upset. I was just in a bad mood. I didn’t think anyone would read my email anyway.”

My friend Valerie was using an online dating service. She was halfhearted (desanimada) about it. She just wanted a perfect magic man to sweep her off her feet (arrebatá-la) through divine serendipity (providência divina).

We were at her computer when I asked her how it’s going. She logged in to her account and showed me her inbox. There were eight new messages; each one well written, saying what the man liked about her profile, how they have a mutual interest in hiking (escalada), or that he also speaks German, and asking her if she’s also been to Berlin or if she’s hiked to New Zealand.

I felt for (senti pena) those guys, each one pouring out his heart (abrindo seu coração), projecting his hopes onto Valerie hoping she’ll reply with equal enthusiasm, hoping she might be the one who will finally see and appreciate him.

She said, “Ugh, losers! I get like ten of these a day.” (Recebo uns dez desses por dia.) Then she deleted all of them without replying.

When we yell at (gritar com) our car or our coffee machine, it’s fine because they’re just mechanical appliances (aparelhos). So when we yell at a website or a company, using our computer or phone, we forget that it’s not an appliance but a person that’s affected.

It’s dehumanizing to have thousands of people passing through our computer screens, so we’d do things we’d never do if those people were sitting next to us.

It’s too overwhelming (insuportável) to remember that at the end of every computer is a real person a lot like you, whose birthday was last week, who has three best friends but nobody to spoon (se aconchegar) at night and who is personally affected by what you say.

Even if you remember it right now, will you remember it next time you’re overwhelmed or perhaps never forget it again?

Fonte do áudio: Youtube