Why human translators/interpreters will always have work

As I sit at my desk pounding away at my keyboard translating Mayor Futoshi Toba's book, I'm struck over and over again of my role.  Mayor Toba is the author.  I'm the translator.  I'm responsible for putting his words into another language, conveying meaning, context, content, words, and feeling the way he wrote it.  My words need to mirror his words.  On the one hand I'm honored by the responsibility.  On the other hand, it's a helluva burden to carry.

Except not all translators operate the same way.  I once worked with an interpreter who felt it was his role, nay responsibility, to interject his opinion into the conversation.  (It's not.)  We had long discussions into the night, and ultimately I gave up.  Go knock yourself out, buddy. 

Then there are those who simply do not know how to use interpreters and translators.  I once told a group of people using bilingual staff they were "burning through your interpreters."
"No we're not," was their reply.  "We've used interpreters before, Amya."  I almost said, "Not well, evidently," except my phone rang and I took that as a sign that was my time to leave both the conversation and the group.  (It's a long story.)

Ultimately, how well words and text are conveyed from one language to another is the responsibility of the one repeating the words, and the one hiring that "repeater."  It goes both ways.

Which is why when I see signs like this, I can only shake my head in wonderment. 

Is this intentional?  Not being a dog person, I can't tell if this is some inside joke, or if the owners of this store selling doggie goods thought they were being smart, stylish, and catchy.

Right next door to Dog-Wiz is this store.

I'm not sure what is says about me that I can't say whether "Scorn Jazz" is a type of legitimate jazz style.  Or, perhaps being scorned at a jazz cafe is a fetish trend in Japan?

The conversation I had regarding the jacket worn by this man clearly makes my point of the day.  (WARNING:  R-rated language coming.)

I saw him in the group of about 100 or so people gathered at this event, mostly because the foreigners in the group were stopping him, making him turn around, reading his jacket and then either giving him a thumbs up (usually preceded by guffawing) or shaking their heads.  I had honestly put this man out of my mind until I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"You're Amya, right?"
"Uh-huh."
"Can you tell me?  Is this jacket, uh, 'bad'?"  He turns around.  I see this.

Oh my.  Oh my, my, my, my.  Oh, wow.  What do I say?  What can I possibly say?  He turns over his shoulder to look at me.  "Answer him," I think to myself.  I need to answer him.
"Well, uh...." and I've got nothing.  Nada.  Honestly.  I don't know what to say.
"That bad?"
"Uh, well, hmmm.  I wouldn't wear this outside of Japan," is finally decide upon, but then again, I wouldn't wear this in Japan either.
"Can you tell me what it means?"
No.  I can't.  I can't translate this.  Again, I've got nothing. 
"I don't know what to say," and I decide to fold.  "I don't know how to translate this."
"It's bad, huh?"
"Yeah.  It's bad." I also decide to be honest.
"Okay.  Thanks."  And, with that, I'm saved.  He walks away, but I decide what I've just seen must be recorded, and I snap a photo.

Not checking with a native speaker before naming a store or putting words on a jacket is not a problem exclusive to Japan.  I've certainly google-translated a sentence before and then used it.  The point here is that native speakers, those who truly get the nuanced meaning behind what's being conveyed cannot be replaced by machines.  All this to say, you translators and interpreters out there who know your stuff, can walk the walk head held high, you will continue to have work.  Finding that work is another matter entirely.