For the past 5 years, I've worked in a company whereby most of
the workers (in fact, all, except me) speak predominantly in
Chinese. It's not too bad in the office itself where I'm usually at
- the rest of the graphic designers converse in English, especially
as a form of respect(?) whenever I'm in the vicinity.
However, at the production side - from the colour seperators to the
cutters to the packers - they communicate almost 100% in Hokkien.
It was tough during the first few months... when I used to get
bewildered looks and blank stares everytime I had to pass on some
work that have certain specific requirements. My colleagues will
help me without having needed to be asked whenever these situations
arise - but there have been times when it's a madhouse and I
suppose I don't want to impose on them more than I needed to.
Funnily enough, we work around it. When I think about the 'special'
language we use - it always makes me smile. It's not Singlish, it's
not Hokglish, Chinglish or anything that can even be categorised
into a fixed group. It's a hodge-podge mish mash of every Chinese /
English language variation... with a fair amount of Malay thrown
in. Whatever works, and however we convey it - as long as it's
understood by both parties. Diagrams, hand signals, the total
desecration of the language(s) that we choose to use... somehow
contribute to this peculiar 'special' bond that the workers and I
share. They're always glad to see me; perhaps I offer them an
entertaining brief respite from their usual rut. 
I suppose we humans are more adaptable and resilient that we would
deem to believe. Faced with a difficult situation, we would somehow
work our way around it, and eventually manage to find the most
feasible way to make things work for our best interests.
Regardless of how 'derogatory' one may view the grouping of
individuals according to his / her habits - the bananas, the oreos
and the potatoes will find their own niche. 
