Since I am bored out of my mind at work, I have been teaching myself French. You know, for something to do between the monotony of reading legal jargon and babysitting adults who cannot adhere to project deliverables.
“Parties agree to be bound by the terms of the Contract Documents as amended by this CCR-CCN. Except as expressly supplemented and amended by this CCR-CCN, the Contract Documents shall remain in full force and effect. From the effective date of this CCR-CCN, references to any of the Contract Documents shall…”
“Chris – I had a call with Ron this afternoon, and he advised that he believes Andrew is still waiting on an updated Citrix RFI. Could you advise if this has been delivered? I am trying to connect the dots, per our conversation this morning.”
Je ne comprends pas…
Yesterday my escapism was a fun lesson of learning to flirt in French. My app of choice, Duolingo, taught me valuable life skills, like how to say: “It is hot in here, or is that just you?”
At the end of the lesson, I was greeted with the sound of a trumpet flourish (da da, da DA!!!) and a vibrant banner that declared, “You have learned the skill: Flirting!”
It’s possible that I laughed out loud, or at least smirked to myself. As my best friend Ashley said, “Glad you will be adept at flirting in multiple languages.” Ha.
But then today, Duolingo decided to humble me. It decided to remind me that there is no need to learn the skill: Flirting because I am a fat cow and will be single for all of eternity. Attempts at flirting are futile, it told me. Just look at the horrible things Duolingo made me learn (and practice saying out loud)!
“I live with my cats.”
“He looks at a cow.”
“I am breaking the belt.”
What’s up with that, Duolingo? Way to teach me to flirt like a champ; then crush my soul by reminding me about my extra tonnage and cat-less cat lady status.
Duolingo, you are the Indian giver of hope. Zero stars.