THE COLOUR OF MAJORCA

A friend of mine, called Roberto, wanted a fine bookcase for his balcony.  He was so enthusiastic that he hired the services of the refinest artisan and did not scrimp in the budget. The carpenter took measures and placed a high price to his work. Our man immediately accepted it and paid a good cash advance to the artisan.

The cabinetmaker asked if he could start the major bulk of work at his own home and install it later in Roberto’s balcony. He argued that his residence was much better equipped and that the annoying, work noise and waste could be reduced to a minimum. No sooner had the client heard the argument that he accepted delighted.

Some days afterwards, the carpenter went to his client’s to install the shelves. Our friend eagerly gazed at the rack construction. Suddenly, the artisan said that the work was finished.

“That’s it.” – Said the carpenter – “What do you think?”

Horrified, Roberto contemplated something which was rather similar to a niche: straight and totally graceless boxes that had been stacked up without any adjustment to the wall. There was neither a glass nor a door or a latch. The straw that broke the camel’s back was the present that the artisan gave Roberto: a black frame with a photo of a chrysantemus that he placed at the base of the bookcase.

- “The Chrysanthemum has the color of Majorca” – said the carpenter.

Roberto, who is a very good man but somewhat insecure, did not dare to tell the carpenter what he really thought. Instead, he popped into a neighbor’s, whom we will call “Mario”, and asked him to come over and give him an opinion.

Mario left everything aside and went to Roberto’s as soon as possible. Of course he had his own opinion about that bookcase. But he did not want to sadden our friend. So he merely answered that it looked really interesting. More comforted, the client transferred the artisan the remainder of the purchase price.

In the afternoon, Roberto’s wife arrived home. And she spared no adjectives to express her opinion about the masterpiece. Outraged, my friend went quickly to Mario’s to tell him his wife’s reaction. And there he found the cabinetmaker, who had just installed a case which was almost identical to the one he had initially commissioned.

If you ever have any doubt, ask yourself, not your neighbor.

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Copyright Luisa Fernández Baladrón

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I HAVE HEARD THIS BEFORE

Some years ago, I had a teacher who used to skip the explanation of complicated lessons. As soon as she had to elaborate something in greater detail, she referred to a future explanation: “We will learn it in the next chapter”. Later on, when it was time, she referred to her previous dissertation: “We had already seen this part on chapter nine”.

The world is full of those “already-seen” people. I have a friend who is a mechanic and provides home delivery services, charging on an hourly basis. His work is paid once he has accomplished the work. Since December 2014 he has been spending Monday afternoon in some wealthy house where there is always plenty to do. One day, the family secretary told him that the manager had forgotten to get his money out from the box. So that Monday, for the first time since December, he just charged a promise to be paid the following week.

Seven years later, the operator arrived at his workplace ready to charge two wages together.  However the manager notified him that he would not receive any money that day, since he had been paid “two wages” the week before. Our friend then clarified that not only hadn’t he received that cash advance the previous week, but he had actually received nothing. After a brief but intense exchange of wiews, the administrator promised to pay him the following week.

A week later the accumulation of tasks forced the manager to require our friend’s services in the morning and afternoon. The technician went then to work as happy as Larry, believing that he would charge a fortune. But, to his surprise, he was given no more than the amount of an ordinary Monday.

-          Where’s the rest? – he asked.

The accountant explained him that, in fact, two weeks ago he had been paid the difference, since he had been anticipated a big sume. His lamentation could not do anything for him, for the accountant was not allowed access to the box.

-          Only the manager is – said the accountant.

Irritated, he got in touch with the owners of the farm, who promised to pay him all in seven days. But unfortunately, neither his cries nor his threats helped him. He was paid just a single wage.

My friend has decided not to provide any further services to the family. In return, he has refused to give any information about the place where the keys of the family’s Masserati are. “Actually, those keys are in the same place than my cash advance”.

 

 

 

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Copyright Luisa Fernández Baladrón

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THE FLAVOUR OF VICTORY

I have a friend who is working as a temporary English teacher in a secondary higher school. Every day she has a funny, new anecdote to tell. My friend is a very direct person and does not mince her words when she answers back.

Some days ago, the schoolchildren welcome her with the flavour – and scent – of victory: they bought a few stink bombs in a small corner shop. As soon as the teacher entered the classroom she noticed the smell of something rotten in the air.

She then decided to provide the young with the best lesson. Pointing to the windows, she asked them to shut de blinds. The students, rather surprised by their teacher’s reaction, mentioned how badly it smelled.

-          Yes – she said – I also have pituitary glands.

The teacher called the janitor and asked him to lock the classroom door. So he did. But, before that, he allowed the teacher to leave the lecture room while the students stayed in.  She leaned on the external door side, enjoying the nausea of their students, whose complaints could be heard from outside. And she happily enjoyed a flavour of victory which was very different to the scent her students had planned.

Fifteen minutes later, after having laught hard, the teacher asked the janitor to open the door... and took the students to an improvised lesson in the courtyard.

I guess these lads will no longer play with fragances.

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Copyright Luisa Fernández Baladrón

Usted puede utilizar este enlace en su página, reenviar este texto o distribuir el documento completo de forma GRATUITA y SIN MODIFICARLO. No puede modificar, extraer o copiar este texto sin la autorización de su autor.