Partial restoration of my faith in males.

I have a quite simply beautiful story to tell you.

Let's set the scene. Tuesday afternoon at work, about an hour before I knock off. I've been on my own at the reception desk since 9am, and I'm slightly stressed from trying to simultaneously sort out the day-to-day client issues and tackle the weekly mountain of paperwork and administration.

The computer has frozen, the phone is ringing, there are clients standing at the reception desk demanding my immediate and utmost attention, and my boss has chosen to stand in the corridor and watching me handle this alone, rather than step in and make herself useful.

I don't recognise the man standing before me, which is unusual, since I know almost all of the clients at least by face, if not by name.

"Can I help you?"
He replies in German. "I hope so. I need a favour." He confirms that he's not a client, past, present or future, but that he needs me to do him a favour nonetheless. I'm curious. "What can I do for you?"

He explains that he is looking for a native speaker of English who can also speak German to translate a letter for him. Considering the crowd of clients starting to gather behind him, I politely suggest he check the trusty annals of Google for a professional translator.

No, he explains: this isn't a standard letter. His girlfriend is Australian, and she's been living in the UK, but the financial crisis has forced her to return home to Australia on short notice, with no possibility or plans to return to Europe, all but sealing the fate of their relationship.

He explains that she is booked on a flight home early the following morning, and since he is too upset to tell her how he feels about her himself, he has written a letter which he wants to give to her. He doesn't have the words in English to express his feelings, so he's written it in German. Problem is, his girlfriend doesn't speak German. That's where the favour comes in.

I really sympathise with this guy, and I really want to help him, but I've got a thousand and one things to do - clients to deal with, my boss still watching my every move, and the phone is still ringing. I answer the phone, and while arranging an appointment, a light goes off in my head, and I realise how I can help this guy out while staying out of trouble with my boss - clearly I'm not supposed to be hawking my services as a translator while working at a language school.

I write an email address on a scrap of paper. "I can't help you out, but a friend of mine might be able to. Her English is native, and her German's good. Email her." I wish him luck, and pick up the receiver to answer the phone, returning my focus to my work.

That night, I check my emails. It was an alternate email address of mine that I wrote on that scrap of paper - one that I use when I don't want my name advertised. Sure enough, he'd emailed me. He explained the story again, and begged for my help in translating the attached text.

Well, Shakespeare or Goethe this guy is not, but the emotion in his writing made it clear to me that he was very much in love with this woman, and that her departure was leaving him in a world of heartache and pain. I replied, revealing my identity as the receptionist he begged for help, and promised to translate his writing as best I could.

As tempting as it is, I will not post his work on this blog - I respect his privacy and his rights an an author, and hope that the good writer's karma I'm sending out may come back to me eventually. Suffice to say that if I received a letter like this one from someone I was dating, I would be 100% and completely theirs.

Guys, take note.