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

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"EL COLOR DE MALLORCA" - PM-133-2015

I’ve just registered my book in the intellectual property registry. “El Color de Mallorca”.

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LET'S GO TO THE VILLAGE

A friend of mine has asked me to accompany him to a local celebration in a village nearby. About a year and a half ago he was working for a language school in that place. He was delighted with the job, but it was a bit unstable. Thus, as soon as he found a full-time one, he resigned at the school.

 

Since then, my friend has never gone back to the village. This is just the result of modern life: we are always pressed for the time. But winter sales produced a miracle: some former pupils came to Palma for a shopping spree. And thus, a couple of weeks ago he met a former student who, visibly worried, asked him about his health.

 

Some days afterwards, he coincided with another former student. He also asked him how his “illness” was going on. This time however, my friend received further explanations. Apparently, as he resigned at the school, the headmaster told all his students that the teacher had left his job due to a mental disease which forced him to go back homeland to receive maternal care.

 

World history is full of lies and unsubstantiated rumors. Famous are more exposed to slander, but the humblest may eventually be its victims too. Who does not remember the famous “crime of Cuenca”. At that time, Gregorio Valero and León Sánchez were wrongly accused (and jailed) for the murder of a shepherd. The truth would finally come to light in early 1926, when the “victim” (which was alive and “kicking”) sent a letter to the priest, requesting a certificate of baptism to get married.

 

My friend has decided to visit the next local celebration dressed in his best clothes and accompanied by his wittiest friends.  

 

 

 

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Copyright Luisa Fernández Baladrón

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Copyright Luisa Fernández Baladrón

THE BEST COMPANY

Last Wednesday a little pupil of mine asked me if I had children. “Not even a boyfriend? Nor a puppy? Do you live completely alone? Don’t you feel rather lonely?”

In fact, I had neved felt more accompanied than in the four walls of this flat. Living with the freedom of doing, writing, reading, painting and talking to everyone via Skype or phone. Without the restriction of having to offer any explanation about every single “strange” detail. Such as having a cup of tea at any time or having an Spanish omelette for breakfast. Leaving my bedroom door open while I sleep; wacking up at daybreak without the bleep of an alarm clock. Painting doodles. Wrapp in a blanket when I get out of bed. Enjoying a warm shower. Studying or writing late. Welcome some friends at home; reading a book together and talking until late. Tie the bike at the front door. Laughing like a teenager. Talking with someone on the phone without having to pay attention to other people that may find it inconvenient. It is amazing the warmth of that company made of pencils, books, computer, tea and heating.

Loneliness is meeting people you have nothing in common with. It is sitting in the company of those who consider each of our decisions a symptom of insanity. It is meeting with that friend of ours who advises us to go to a psychiatrist because we have changed our job once again. He, who has had more than thirty different jobs during his labour life. He, who was once married, then divorced his first partner and then got married again. He, who does not visit the children of his first marriage and insist on adopting children with his second wife.

Solitude is been a victim of discrimination on grounds of race, origin or social position. It is that silly joke about people who were born in a particular place. It is that boyfriend who once tells you that, actually, he is still in love with a teenager whom he never dared to declare to thirty years ago. It is that colleague who casts doubt on our ability at work; it is that boss who takes advantage of their position to revenge against his miserable childhood. It is that dog which decides to urinate right on your shoe.

              
But at home, in our own four walls, with a cup that smells of raspberry, our feet in slippers, a piece of paper and a box of colors on the table; on my chair, listening to my favourite music and reading my books, there is no solitude at all, but a mere sense of belonging.

I add my photo for the “throw back Thursday”. Palma, July 2006

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Copyright Luisa Fernández Baladrón

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NICE COLLEAGUES AND COMRADES

Yesterday was a day of challenges. Probably the greatest one was to witness some colleagues of the language school bullying another workmate. The main aggressor (a woman in her late fifties, with gray hair and a clumsy body) approached her victim with crooked head, telling her again and again:

-         Hello! Bye-bye!... Hello! Bye-bye!... Hello! Bye-bye!... Hello! Bye-bye!...

The support group, consisting of two adult women, said out loud:  “Speak more, nice ladyyyyyyyy...”

I found quite interesting to see such an adolescent behavior in three middle aged women. I wonder if regular contact with teenagers has influenced their attitude. Maybe the nice ladies thought that a teen performance would make them look younger, as if they had had a natural face lift. Unfortunately, if you want to stave off wrinkles from an old face you´ll have to be willing to pay an expensive hyaluronic acid treatment. Then to the disgrace of feminine vanity, an adolescent conduct does neither erase wrinkles nor give hair volume and shine. And the lack of mental maturity doesn’t clean cholesterol and fatty acids of the walls of arteries either.

I called up a Colombian friend who has an extremely good sense of pace... and of humor, and we invited the unaccepted colleague to come with us to have a drink. There was a football match on the TV and cafes and bars were crowded. We laughed and talked about everything and about nothing in particular. And, of course, we did not mention the lovely workmates. As we were going back home, my friend gave me back an easel and a canvas with a cabbage picture that I had left at her home on my last tour to Hamburg. It’s great to have friends who make us forget the presence of lonely, frustrated people.

As a classic writer said: “Long live the gossip, who make us more and more famous.”

 

 

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Copyright Luisa Fernández Baladrón

 

BOUNTIES OF DIVINE PROVIDENCE

On Thursday I had a real shock. In the adult class, my laptop-screen got black. I could log in as usual but immediately after there was absolutely nothing on the screen. Only the cursor hovering over it. Oh no! A computer failure in hard January! I switched it off and prayed to all the saints and in all languages.

A part of me believed in Divine Providence. The other bought a pack of two bars of chocolate in the supermarket and scoff it all down while I rode my bicycle towards the technician’s. Keep calm: everything will go well. In the meantime, my teeth were grinding and clenching the sweet flavour of cocoa butter. I even got off the bike and pushed it for a while to open a can of Coke. Addicts know how great that choco-cola mix can happen to be.

Relax – I told to myself - there must be a solution. My laptop was on my back and I had to get the rucksack off once and again, each time I wanted to eat a couple of chocolate ounces. I stopped and leant the bike against a traffic signal each time. Finally, I took the rest of the chocolate bar and kept it in my hand to continue eating without any interruption. But, as I had not got hands enough, I put the can of Coke into one of my pockets. Soon, the pocket was awashed with Coke.

And this is how I went into the computer shop: with the serenity that gives believing in God’s care... and with my bike aside, my laptop on my back, a bar of chocolate in my hand, my whole mouth full of chocolate, my overcoat spotted with Coke and the face expression of a sugarholic.

- My compggutermm doesn’t wogggrkmm – I said to the technician, still with full mouth.

Fortunately, the technician had a magic wand. It took him about twenty minutes to repair it. What is even better than that: the computer was still under warranty and the update was covered.

In the afternoon, I had to put my laptop on my back again: I had to go to work and needed those pictures and recordings. It was a great lesson for motivated girls about the most beloved knight of all: Mr. Money.

And, while going back home, humming the song that had introduced the lesson, something reminded me of chocolate. Divine Providence... and so does indigestion.

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Copyright Luisa Fernández Baladrón