British Accent – The Great Pudding Club Hunt

We moved to the US from the UK over 2 years ago, and even now I still have awkward moments with Americans where the conversation just stops mid flow as we realise we don’t understand each other. I’m not saying it is a huge language barrier, like it might be if we had moved to Japan, but we have had to learn a new language. I think it is easier for us Brits to understand Americans because we watch a lot of American TV shows and films, and Americans have a harder time trying to understand us.

I thought about this issue when I was talking to my nurse about prescriptions – it can be like another language, for example a prescription is known as an Rx. When I have asked some Americans what Rx stands for, they were unable to answer, so upon googling Rx, it turns out it originates from a Latin word – Recipe, to take. In Europe doctors use the abbreviation Rp. (Everyday is a school day!). I also asked about repeat prescriptions, which is actually called a refill prescription here in the US. The nurse was very understanding and helpful. Finally, when I picked up my prescription the pharmacist asked for my Date of Birth, I replied “28th December (insert some ‘I am ancient’ year here)”. Her brain did not compute this immediately because Americans say the month, day, year. Not her fault…In the UK we say day, month, year. Still after two years I have not got this into my head – even today as Chris was writing a check he wrote it the wrong way round!!!

So here are some words which mean very different things in each language, some of them lead to funny misinterpretations:

American = British

check = bill

bill = note ($$)

chips = crisps

fries = chips

cookie = biscuit

biscuit = savory scone

underwear = pants

pants = trousers

broil = grill

grill = bbq

eraser = rubber

rubber = condom

faucet = tap

silverware = cutlery

first floor = ground floor

second floor = first floor

gas = petrol

trunk = boot

jelly = jam

jello = jelly

pudding = not pudding!!! Angel delight?

I have concluded that it must be my British accent that confuses people at the other end of a phone line, namely my insurance company, Allianz, and freedom fertility. Or they are just morons. I am sure these big companies wouldn’t hire morons to man their phones, so it must be the former.

You may remember a couple of weeks ago I had a mild panic about whether my insurance company needed a pre-approval before fertility treatment? When I had called my insurance company the nice Irish lady, who held me the line whilst she thoroughly checked the answer to my simple query, concluded I did not need approval for IUI. Turns out she was wrong. The only reason I know this is because my fertility clinic requested to see proof that my insurance covers fertility treatment. So yesterday when I asked my insurance company for an email confirming this, they replied today stating that in fact their representative was incorrect and I needed prior approval. To get the approval I need to send to my insurance: medial records, history, diagnosis and costs of planned treatment. I could easily have collected all this the several times I have been at my clinic in the last few weeks, had the representative supplied me with accurate information in the first place. Is this a normal situation, for insurance companies to request all this? I had thought that insurance companies would usually liaise directly with the healthcare provider?

Who knows what the heck is going on with my insurance. Chris has kindly volunteered to deal with it. I don’t mind if we are not covered, but what annoys me is that this process is not exactly the smoothest of rides as it is. I know people make mistakes, but this mistake is a pain in the backside. At least Allianz apologised and realised their initial mistake, we had a response back from their ‘senior customer sales representative’. So I am not mad at them, but all these coincidences of mess ups on the phone, I’ve decided the only common factor is me. The only obvious explanation is my accent. From now on it’s email all the way, guvn’r…