ca·nard   [kuh-nahrd; Fr. ka-nar]  noun, plural ca·nards  [-nahrdz; Fr. -nar] 

1. a false or baseless, usually derogatory story, report, or rumor.
2. Cookery . a duck intended or used for food.
3. Aeronautics . a. an airplane that has its horizontal stabilizer and elevators located forward of the wing. b. Also called canard wing . one of two small lifting wings located in front of the main wings. c. an early airplane having a pusher engine with the rudder and elevator assembly in front of the wings.

I didn’t realize there was more than one meaning for the word. It’s the first definition that applies to my day. I have been told my share of canards today. I love the word canard. It sounds funny. It just rolls off your tongue and sounds so sophisticated, people don’t get offended.

Much nicer than insinuating someone has lied to you.

Ever have one of those days where you have everything planned out in your mind before your work begins? Today was such a day. I actually felt organized and ahead of the curve at work because I knew I could accomplish the three tasks I had set for myself…and if you know me at all, you’ll know sticking to a list is practically impossible for me : )

The first situation I ran into was my agent (4-H, not literary, LOL) telling me she’d sent an email I needed to address as she was running out the door for the day. In the email, she asked me to prepare enrollment materials for three clubs. Now in itself, this is not unusal, actually, it’s my job. The problem was the timing. The leaders of these clubs had told canards to my agent to get special treatment which meant I had to disregard my own plans for the morning to attend to theirs…

They knew better and simply found a way to get around the system. Very irritating. I’d been canard-ed

Next, I overheard our temporary receptionist answer a call. She asked the caller to wait a moment while she went to our copy room and then returned and rattled off the make of our copier. Apparently that wasn’t the information the caller wanted. By now, I had a good idea the caller was a soliciter. I intercepted the call. She asked to speak to our purchasing agent. I asked if she was with the company who had leased the machine to us. She said yes, could she speak to our agent. I asked what company she was with and our conversation volleyed back and forth. She never answered my questions truthfully and ended up hanging up on me.

Again, I was hit by a canard.

Finally, my daughter called from half way across the state (she’s gainfully employed three hours from home!! Wah!!) and complained she couldn’t get into her bank account information, the computer was shutting her out. I tried logging in to see if I had access and ended up in this loop of repetitive questioning, the portal refusing my entry into my own account insisting I’d forgotten my password. I finally rerouted my efforts and changed my password. Voila! I gained access.

Really? A technological canard?

A grand slam of a day. First taken in by friends and acquiantances. Then, a slick stranger. Finally, a frustrating cyber system.

Canards. What a pain. They’re frustrating enough to drive me to a pint — of ice cream, that is : )

Now I’m off to write a scene in my historical romance. Say a prayer I don’t have the hero climb into his SUV rather than a carriage or the heroine swiping her card through an ATM instead reaching for her reticule…

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