Pseudowords for the Soul

My office is currently short handed. (Not to mention short sighted, but that is another blog post) We hired a girl, who left 3 days later. She couldn’t handle our totally inefficient processes. She left for less insanity. I don’t blame her. But even as the office Nazi (the supervisor) read her reasons for leaving, he just couldn’t believe our systems were inefficient! (Well, he also was the developer of said systems.) There must have been other reasons, and she was making that other part up. This is all from the guy who’s monitor has wavy lines disrupting the entire screen, and tells me it doesn’t bother him because he is color blind. He won’t buy a new one. He is off his rocker.

So we are currently talking to a local head hunter agency that is trying to help us find a replacement. Their first attempt was a fail, obviously. The second attempt happened to be the antagonist from my previous place of employment. While we are civil to one another, she isn’t my best bud. My current boss would love to have her work here because of her experience, but she comes wrapped up in legal red tape from our previous employer. Plus, my boss isn’t interested in saving anyone, other than himself. That bullet was dodged, thankfully. Yet, this headhunter cannot get “NO” through her head and is constantly bringing her up. If I were a more violent person, I would tell her where she can shove her recommendation. But I am not, so I don’t. But boy I sure want to.

In other news, once again we are forced to endure arctic temperatures. Thank goodness no more snow or ice rain. We are freezing our colungas off down here! What is a colunga?  It can mean many things in my mom’s language. It typically is a reference to a part of a male’s anatomy.  If you look it up, the closest thing I could find was some place on the Spanish coast where in 2006 a bunch of sardines came to shore.  It fits perfectly, since it so random. My mom has never been to Spain. Also I read that in the land of the Kalunga people, calunga is the name of a plant - Simaba ferruginea – and the place where it grows, near a stream of the same name. It makes the land where it grows sacred; a land that never dries is good for planting food for all of life. These people were slaves from Brazil. Honestly, my mom has no idea about these people and their sacred plant.

It is like when she says stuff like “Chinga-macka-louie!” It has no definition in the dictionary, it means that she is not mad enough to say a cuss word, yet she needs to exclaim something. Don’t worry if you don’t get it. I am her daughter. I have been at this for 30 years. Very few people know how to understand her. I feel it has been a great exercise in learning how to properly use context clues. Thanks mom, for the english lesson. Have a great rest of the week y’all! Don’t get your ya-ya’s in a twist, keep the cacameraca to a minimum, and your colungas warm.