Soo Kim, my Korean colleague was distraught. Her visa papers were misplaced. She remembered giving it to someone in the office, but couldn’t remember her name. Distraught she approached me for help, after ascertaining that I looked equally bad in English as her. I did not disappoint her.
Hai
Hai
You An...an...an
Jali
Yes, An Jalee
Yes?
My hmmm visa paper hmmm cannot find, yes cannot find.
Cant find? Bad, very bad
Yes, yes!
Where did you keep it?
Yes?
Where, you put? *gesturing into my bag*
No, no, no bag. Lady!
Great! We have approx 200 ladies here.
Yes, Yes, Yes!
Sigh
I called all the ladies on my floor, told them the reason for the meeting and asked Soo Kim to identify the person. Soo Kim, looked around and shrugged her shoulders. A clever colleague we call "Einsteina, asked Soo “What lady wear?" pointing to her clothes.
Soo Kim thought for a minute and said "big mole". Crap, I thought, what if the mole was someplace where looking for it could land me into a sexual harassment case with the HR!
"Where?' asked Einsteina, pointing to her hand and face. Soo Kim pointed to the forehead. It was obvious she was referring to a bindi or pottu.
What color?" someone asked.
"Red" came the reply.
All heads turned to Ms Blah Blah, who wears saucer sized red bindi’s. She wasn’t wearing one we noticed. We groaned at the thought of identifying the person all over again when Ms Blah Blah spoke up “Oh! This is the lady who gave me the papers today morning! How do I know she is the same Korean. They all look alike!!"
After restoring the papers to the rightful owner, we got together and bought a pack of bindi’s that we stuck on Ms Blah Blah's forehead with super strong glue so that it doesn't fall off again. She suffers from oily forehead you see.
We get frequent complaints from her that it doesn’t come off even when washed with the strongest detergent. But what the heck, till Soo is here, we are going to make sure, it stays. Every landmark is important to foreign tourists and we at Dot Bust Corporation ensure that our foreign colleagues are well taken care off.
In the meantime does anyone know of an industrial solvent that will remove really strong glue off delicate material like err skin?
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Monday, September 06, 2010
Personality developers
Human beings are people and like most people they shape their personality from traits inherited from their parents, environment and the substances they snort or parents snorted. Any geneticists, sociologists or anthropologists will tell you that. But to hell with geneticists, sociologists and anthropologists. It is the Astrologers, the highly knowledgeable community of people with their highly complex and scientific study of human nature called Zodiac Signs that dictate what we are and what we will be.
Here is an example of what Zodiac predictions have done to the people over the years.
Aries: Arians are normal people who believe that they are creative, adaptive, and insightful and the life of the party, (even if they have never attended a party) because it is written in their Zodiac description. They also believe they have excellent sense of humor thanks to the Astrologers who have drawn up the Arian character map. Most failed stand up comedians and known PJ'ists are rumored to be Arians. Also most party crashers are Arians who cannot understand why despite Astrological proof they are often not invited for parties.
Taurus: Taureans are people who are born between April 20th and May 20th. This is another group of people who reject evolutionary theories and believe in their Zodiac sign that says that they are like the animal that represents them. They are all about strength, stamina and will. Stubborn by nature, also a loving, sympathetic and appreciative sign. This makes them very confused and the result is that most loving husbands turned wife beaters are Taureans.
Gemini: Geminians believe that they are flexible, balanced and adaptable. They believe they can turn from hot to cold and may be prone to noticeable mood swings but have tendencies of being affectionate, and imaginative. Most serial killers were normal people till they read that they were a Gemini.
Cancer: I belong to this group. Period. I am NOT a traditionalist, and DO NOT enjoy operating on a fundamental level. I HATE history and am not fascinated with the beginnings of things (heraldry, ancestry, etc.). The moon is NOT my ruler; therefore I am NOT a bit of a contradiction and sometimes moody. I am NOT conservative, which makes me hide my moods from others altogether. I do NOT have a reputation for being fickle. However I do HATE astrologers who tell me who I am hmmpph!
Virgo: Another set of cruelly wronged people who are pleasantly surprised to hear that they have keen minds, and are delightful to talk with, often convincing others of outlandish tales with ease and charm. And that they are inquisitive and are very skilled at drawing information from people. They do not protest to this generalization because they are taken in by this outlandish description.
Libra: Libran's believe that they are about balance, justice, equanimity and stability. According to the Zodiac they can be quiet and shy if not persuaded to come out of their shell. In spite of their introverted nature they make excellent debaters, often proving a point from out of seemingly nowhere. Most alcoholics are Librans. Their alcoholic ramblings are an excellent example of their debating nature.
Scorpio: These are people born between October 23rd and November 21st. They are born pretty normal. But Astrology ruins them. They believe they are Scorpions who according to Astrologers are often misunderstood creatures. They can surmount seemingly all obstacles when they put their mind to the task, and they have unshakable focus when the situation calls for it. Most people lying dead at the foot of mountains are Scorpios. The creator of Superman was also a closet Scorpio though he refuses to acknowledge it.
Sagittarius: A group of people who were born between November 22nd and December 21st, forced to believe that they are philosophers. They are told that they have great abilities for focus, and can be very intense but they must channelize their energy or they will waste time and wear themselves out going in too many directions at once. Most people, who refuse to look at maps, or ask directions and can be seen sitting on roadside philosophizing about being lost are Sagittarians. Columbus was a famous Sagittarian though he denies it vociferously.
Capricorn: Another group of people who are led to believe that they are damn philosophical, good organizers, and they achieve their goals by purposeful, systematic means. They do not deal well with opposition or criticism but a healthy Capricorn will often shrug off negative comments towards their character. Suresh Kalmadi and most of the Indian politicians are rumored to be Capricorns, though they may not admit it.
Aquarius: These are ordinary folks who believe that they are simple and unassuming, and go about accomplishing goals in a quiet, often unorthodox ways. They believe that though their methods may be unorthodox, but the results, are surprisingly effective. Jack the Ripper was rumored to be a an Aquarian. His mom says that he showed no tendency to violence till he read Bheja Daruwallahs' book. The cops are currently looking for Bejha Daruwallah as an accessory to murder.
Pisces: Pisceans are people who believe they are beautifully gentle, and generous and hence taken advantage of. In the end, however, the Pisces is often the victor of ill circumstance because of his/her intense determination. They become passionately devoted to a cause – particularly if they are championing for friends or family. Most members of the Gandhi family believe they are Pisceans.
Addendum
Leo: Leo's have been brainwashed into believing that they are about expanse, power and that they are natural born leaders, and they will let you know it as they have a tendency to be high-minded and vocal about their opinions. Most inmates of mental asylums are Leos, where they can be seen being high minded and vocal in their padded cells.
I rest my case.
Have a nice week folks!
Here is an example of what Zodiac predictions have done to the people over the years.
Aries: Arians are normal people who believe that they are creative, adaptive, and insightful and the life of the party, (even if they have never attended a party) because it is written in their Zodiac description. They also believe they have excellent sense of humor thanks to the Astrologers who have drawn up the Arian character map. Most failed stand up comedians and known PJ'ists are rumored to be Arians. Also most party crashers are Arians who cannot understand why despite Astrological proof they are often not invited for parties.
Taurus: Taureans are people who are born between April 20th and May 20th. This is another group of people who reject evolutionary theories and believe in their Zodiac sign that says that they are like the animal that represents them. They are all about strength, stamina and will. Stubborn by nature, also a loving, sympathetic and appreciative sign. This makes them very confused and the result is that most loving husbands turned wife beaters are Taureans.
Gemini: Geminians believe that they are flexible, balanced and adaptable. They believe they can turn from hot to cold and may be prone to noticeable mood swings but have tendencies of being affectionate, and imaginative. Most serial killers were normal people till they read that they were a Gemini.
Cancer: I belong to this group. Period. I am NOT a traditionalist, and DO NOT enjoy operating on a fundamental level. I HATE history and am not fascinated with the beginnings of things (heraldry, ancestry, etc.). The moon is NOT my ruler; therefore I am NOT a bit of a contradiction and sometimes moody. I am NOT conservative, which makes me hide my moods from others altogether. I do NOT have a reputation for being fickle. However I do HATE astrologers who tell me who I am hmmpph!
Virgo: Another set of cruelly wronged people who are pleasantly surprised to hear that they have keen minds, and are delightful to talk with, often convincing others of outlandish tales with ease and charm. And that they are inquisitive and are very skilled at drawing information from people. They do not protest to this generalization because they are taken in by this outlandish description.
Libra: Libran's believe that they are about balance, justice, equanimity and stability. According to the Zodiac they can be quiet and shy if not persuaded to come out of their shell. In spite of their introverted nature they make excellent debaters, often proving a point from out of seemingly nowhere. Most alcoholics are Librans. Their alcoholic ramblings are an excellent example of their debating nature.
Scorpio: These are people born between October 23rd and November 21st. They are born pretty normal. But Astrology ruins them. They believe they are Scorpions who according to Astrologers are often misunderstood creatures. They can surmount seemingly all obstacles when they put their mind to the task, and they have unshakable focus when the situation calls for it. Most people lying dead at the foot of mountains are Scorpios. The creator of Superman was also a closet Scorpio though he refuses to acknowledge it.
Sagittarius: A group of people who were born between November 22nd and December 21st, forced to believe that they are philosophers. They are told that they have great abilities for focus, and can be very intense but they must channelize their energy or they will waste time and wear themselves out going in too many directions at once. Most people, who refuse to look at maps, or ask directions and can be seen sitting on roadside philosophizing about being lost are Sagittarians. Columbus was a famous Sagittarian though he denies it vociferously.
Capricorn: Another group of people who are led to believe that they are damn philosophical, good organizers, and they achieve their goals by purposeful, systematic means. They do not deal well with opposition or criticism but a healthy Capricorn will often shrug off negative comments towards their character. Suresh Kalmadi and most of the Indian politicians are rumored to be Capricorns, though they may not admit it.
Aquarius: These are ordinary folks who believe that they are simple and unassuming, and go about accomplishing goals in a quiet, often unorthodox ways. They believe that though their methods may be unorthodox, but the results, are surprisingly effective. Jack the Ripper was rumored to be a an Aquarian. His mom says that he showed no tendency to violence till he read Bheja Daruwallahs' book. The cops are currently looking for Bejha Daruwallah as an accessory to murder.
Pisces: Pisceans are people who believe they are beautifully gentle, and generous and hence taken advantage of. In the end, however, the Pisces is often the victor of ill circumstance because of his/her intense determination. They become passionately devoted to a cause – particularly if they are championing for friends or family. Most members of the Gandhi family believe they are Pisceans.
Addendum
Leo: Leo's have been brainwashed into believing that they are about expanse, power and that they are natural born leaders, and they will let you know it as they have a tendency to be high-minded and vocal about their opinions. Most inmates of mental asylums are Leos, where they can be seen being high minded and vocal in their padded cells.
I rest my case.
Have a nice week folks!
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Out of the frying pan...
Colleague to new colleague (NC) an ex roomie: Where were you working before you joined us?
NC: ABC Pvt Ltd.
Colleague: What were you doing there?
NC: Same thing as here.
Colleague: Why did you leave?
NC: You referred me here. That's why! heh heh
Colleague: Any openings in your company for a similar post?
NC: My post is still open...
Colleague: Great! I will send you my resume. Please send it your Manager. I hate this place!
NC: :-O :-O :-O
Have a nice week folks!
Monday, August 23, 2010
Elephantine problems
Flash News: The All India Domestic Elephants Association (AIDEA) has declared a one day bundh tomorrow to protest against the injustices meted out to their tribes by the tourism industry. A spokesperson for the association, Pampady Rajan told reporters. “Earlier we ferried tourists and blessed them for money. Life was good. But now we have foreign tourists coming and scrubbing us during bath and that is taking things a little bit too far!"
"We love our daily scrub, but once a day please!" pleaded Kunjiraman an eight year old elephant working at the Wild Life Sanctuary. Kunjiraman is allegedly squeaky clean. The allegation may well be true judging from number of foreign tourists applying for the cultural experience of scrubbing an elephant.
Ithithanam, an AIDEA member from Thrissur-Kerala agreed that getting scrubbed by tourists was a pain. He gets scrubbed about 150 times a day and looks like a nerd he feels. "There was a time I looked for ward to my weekly bath and scrub. Now I have developed a phobia of water," shuddered the pachyderm in sheer terror spraying the reporters with copious amount of water
"And what is worse is getting fed about a dozen times a day by these tourists!” complained Kandan Koran, an AIDEA member from Guruvayoor chewing on a bunch of bananas thoughtfully. He spat it out immediately when he realized that he had already eaten 12 times that day.
“I have put on so much weight" sighed Gajaleksmi. "I have to eat for every tourist. And most of the time they get the angle of the shot wrong and I have to eat again" she said looking at her once round now grotesquely bloated belly.
“It is high time our grievances are addressed” thundered Guruvayoorappan in a bad temper. Guruvayoorappan suffers from acute stomach problems due to the vicious circle of feeding and immediate bathing. His mahout has been sacked for calling him a ‘gasbag’.
The Animal Welfare Minister has promised to look into the elephants problems. A meeting with the protesting Pachyderms went horribly wrong when the Minister was picked up by an irate elephant and hurled into the Pampa River.
He was heard shouting to his Secretary as they ran for their lives, "Next time you come up bright ideas like carrying a bunch of bananas and a scrub down as a peace offering for elephants, I will personally kill you, you #$@%#%!!!!"
The Minister, who is in good shape considering the manhandling he went through, has agreed to look into the elephants demands. Speaking from his hospital bed he told reporters, "That was a close shave! Phew!"
"We love our daily scrub, but once a day please!" pleaded Kunjiraman an eight year old elephant working at the Wild Life Sanctuary. Kunjiraman is allegedly squeaky clean. The allegation may well be true judging from number of foreign tourists applying for the cultural experience of scrubbing an elephant.
Ithithanam, an AIDEA member from Thrissur-Kerala agreed that getting scrubbed by tourists was a pain. He gets scrubbed about 150 times a day and looks like a nerd he feels. "There was a time I looked for ward to my weekly bath and scrub. Now I have developed a phobia of water," shuddered the pachyderm in sheer terror spraying the reporters with copious amount of water
"And what is worse is getting fed about a dozen times a day by these tourists!” complained Kandan Koran, an AIDEA member from Guruvayoor chewing on a bunch of bananas thoughtfully. He spat it out immediately when he realized that he had already eaten 12 times that day.
“I have put on so much weight" sighed Gajaleksmi. "I have to eat for every tourist. And most of the time they get the angle of the shot wrong and I have to eat again" she said looking at her once round now grotesquely bloated belly.
“It is high time our grievances are addressed” thundered Guruvayoorappan in a bad temper. Guruvayoorappan suffers from acute stomach problems due to the vicious circle of feeding and immediate bathing. His mahout has been sacked for calling him a ‘gasbag’.
The Animal Welfare Minister has promised to look into the elephants problems. A meeting with the protesting Pachyderms went horribly wrong when the Minister was picked up by an irate elephant and hurled into the Pampa River.
He was heard shouting to his Secretary as they ran for their lives, "Next time you come up bright ideas like carrying a bunch of bananas and a scrub down as a peace offering for elephants, I will personally kill you, you #$@%#%!!!!"
The Minister, who is in good shape considering the manhandling he went through, has agreed to look into the elephants demands. Speaking from his hospital bed he told reporters, "That was a close shave! Phew!"
Monday, August 16, 2010
Hotline to heaven
A dear old aundy in the family was in shock, Her only living brother, a 176 (approx) year old apoopan called Varghese Chacko Alphonse Joseph Kurian was in the hospital. Doctors had given up hopes and suggested to the relations to donate his body to the nearest fossil museum.
But Aundy would have none of it. “He is only 176 years old” she wailed. "So young!!" she wailed some more. "How can he die!!!" she wailed again looking at the heavens, while we stuffed cotton into our years.
“We can only pray..." murmured the relations surreptitiously passing around the cotton.
"But the Potta prayer group would be closed now!!!" aundy wailed again while relations held their ears and groaned.
"It is true." my brother M whispered to us i.e. Mom, Dad and Me. "God would have gone to sleep by now." If looks could kill, M would be in heaven right now playing Hard Rock music on the Lyre.
"I think I know someone who might help!" said Elsie, aundy's daughter-in-laws, daughter-in-laws youngest daughter-in-law.
Everyone looked at her relieved. Aundys wailing and crying was getting on everyone’s nerves and people were now stuffing anything in sight into their ears.
"I will call my cousin Susan, She knows someone in Potta." said Elsie dialing a number on her mobile. Everyone looked at her admiringly. Having "connections" in Potta is like having connections in heaven. People nodded at each other knowingly and looked at her with a new respect.
"Ok! Susan will do it!" declared Susie after talking to Susan briefly.
After what seemed like an eternity but was actually ten seconds, Aundy's Son in Law's, Son-in-Law's grandson spoke. (He is 55 years old in case you are wondering). "What is happening Elsie? It is ten seconds and the news from hospital is still bad."
Before Elsie could say anything M looked at Aundy’s Son in Law's, Son-in-Law's, grandson and said solemnly "They are talking to God right now Appacha.”
"Oh." said Aundy's Son in Law's, Son-in-Law's grandson mollified. “Let us all go to sleep then.”
While the relatives rushed out of the house trying not to look too eager to leave, a certain gentleman and lady were seen beating a hasty retreat pushing their hysterically laughing daughter out of the house. The gentleman fought hard to keep a straight face until at least they reached the car.
M in the meantime had the air of a firefighter who had single handedly defused an emotional conflagration. He looked rather proud of himself.
Latest news: The family is still waiting for God's decision. In other words, apoopan is still alive.
But Aundy would have none of it. “He is only 176 years old” she wailed. "So young!!" she wailed some more. "How can he die!!!" she wailed again looking at the heavens, while we stuffed cotton into our years.
“We can only pray..." murmured the relations surreptitiously passing around the cotton.
"But the Potta prayer group would be closed now!!!" aundy wailed again while relations held their ears and groaned.
"It is true." my brother M whispered to us i.e. Mom, Dad and Me. "God would have gone to sleep by now." If looks could kill, M would be in heaven right now playing Hard Rock music on the Lyre.
"I think I know someone who might help!" said Elsie, aundy's daughter-in-laws, daughter-in-laws youngest daughter-in-law.
Everyone looked at her relieved. Aundys wailing and crying was getting on everyone’s nerves and people were now stuffing anything in sight into their ears.
"I will call my cousin Susan, She knows someone in Potta." said Elsie dialing a number on her mobile. Everyone looked at her admiringly. Having "connections" in Potta is like having connections in heaven. People nodded at each other knowingly and looked at her with a new respect.
"Ok! Susan will do it!" declared Susie after talking to Susan briefly.
After what seemed like an eternity but was actually ten seconds, Aundy's Son in Law's, Son-in-Law's grandson spoke. (He is 55 years old in case you are wondering). "What is happening Elsie? It is ten seconds and the news from hospital is still bad."
Before Elsie could say anything M looked at Aundy’s Son in Law's, Son-in-Law's, grandson and said solemnly "They are talking to God right now Appacha.”
"Oh." said Aundy's Son in Law's, Son-in-Law's grandson mollified. “Let us all go to sleep then.”
While the relatives rushed out of the house trying not to look too eager to leave, a certain gentleman and lady were seen beating a hasty retreat pushing their hysterically laughing daughter out of the house. The gentleman fought hard to keep a straight face until at least they reached the car.
M in the meantime had the air of a firefighter who had single handedly defused an emotional conflagration. He looked rather proud of himself.
Latest news: The family is still waiting for God's decision. In other words, apoopan is still alive.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
One way ticket to hell
One fine sunny yet not too warm and perfectly temperatured day, I decided to take the bus to work. Full of good intentions and absolutely proud of myself for taking the bus, I stepped into the bus and offered a ten rupee note to the conductor as fare. A little smile played on my lips as I thought about the good deed I was doing for the environment. I am sure a halo twinkled around my little head too, but I was too modest to check.
The conductor, a tall strapping young man who looked like he had been feasting on human blood the whole night and chewing the cud for breakfast, snatched the note brusquely, pushed his finger into his mouth, swabbed a generous amount of paan stained saliva on his finger, pried a ticket loose from the tight wad he held in his hand with the same finger and pushed the ticket into my hand before I could scream “Nahiiiiiiin” like Hema Malini in the movies. It all happened in a second. I had no time to react. The crumpled ticket with blood red saliva lay in my hand like a Maghai Paan House flavored bus ticket. The smell was overpowering.
I looked at the ticket in horror and then at the conductor. He was gone; to the rear of the bus to sell more paan flavored tickets I presume.
I gingerly lifted my hands and tried to throw the ticket into the bag. But it wouldn’t budge. The conductor has ensured that passengers will never have to worry about losing their tickets and paying fines by - you wont believe this - eating sweet paaan!!! Yes dear friends, the industrial strength sugar syrup in the paan ensured that I could do any thing...like Kung Fu or Karate, or climb a mountain "and" award a few Common Wealth Games contracts on the side without having to worry about the ticket falling down, EVER! Amazing.
I decided to look at the bright side. Suppose the bus turned sharply, rolled over a dozen times and then fell slow motion into a deep ditch like in the movies, I could secure myself by sticking my hand on any part of the bus!!! I would perhaps be the only one standing!!
But it was hard to be positive when there is a terrible stench emanating from your hand. Yes dear friends, by this time the paan syrup had started decomposing and my hand smelled like a morgue. Extending my hand in front of me and covering my nose with the other was an impossible task I achieved due to sheer nausea and great repulsion.
I got out of the bus with great alacrity and sprinted to the office toilet like someone suffering from diarrhea who has seen a toilet after a really long time. After washing the hand a hundred times and being refused the phenyl a hundred times (No dear, you don’t need phenyl to sterilize your hands. Soap is just fine)I walked to my seat, a changed person. The old Silverine was dead. In her place stood a female mutant bus ticket hating ninja turtle err girl.
Nowadays, when the conductor hands me the ticket, I no longer gasp and act like I am being handed a severed human head. I merely hold up an eyebrow tweezer and pluck it straight out of his hands. The ticket is then dropped into a plastic bag that is promptly thrown into the dustbin when I reach office. I do get strange looks from some conductors, but most of them are fine. Because they are too busy wetting their fingers with saliva for the next passenger, to notice.
The conductor, a tall strapping young man who looked like he had been feasting on human blood the whole night and chewing the cud for breakfast, snatched the note brusquely, pushed his finger into his mouth, swabbed a generous amount of paan stained saliva on his finger, pried a ticket loose from the tight wad he held in his hand with the same finger and pushed the ticket into my hand before I could scream “Nahiiiiiiin” like Hema Malini in the movies. It all happened in a second. I had no time to react. The crumpled ticket with blood red saliva lay in my hand like a Maghai Paan House flavored bus ticket. The smell was overpowering.
I looked at the ticket in horror and then at the conductor. He was gone; to the rear of the bus to sell more paan flavored tickets I presume.
I gingerly lifted my hands and tried to throw the ticket into the bag. But it wouldn’t budge. The conductor has ensured that passengers will never have to worry about losing their tickets and paying fines by - you wont believe this - eating sweet paaan!!! Yes dear friends, the industrial strength sugar syrup in the paan ensured that I could do any thing...like Kung Fu or Karate, or climb a mountain "and" award a few Common Wealth Games contracts on the side without having to worry about the ticket falling down, EVER! Amazing.
I decided to look at the bright side. Suppose the bus turned sharply, rolled over a dozen times and then fell slow motion into a deep ditch like in the movies, I could secure myself by sticking my hand on any part of the bus!!! I would perhaps be the only one standing!!
But it was hard to be positive when there is a terrible stench emanating from your hand. Yes dear friends, by this time the paan syrup had started decomposing and my hand smelled like a morgue. Extending my hand in front of me and covering my nose with the other was an impossible task I achieved due to sheer nausea and great repulsion.
I got out of the bus with great alacrity and sprinted to the office toilet like someone suffering from diarrhea who has seen a toilet after a really long time. After washing the hand a hundred times and being refused the phenyl a hundred times (No dear, you don’t need phenyl to sterilize your hands. Soap is just fine)I walked to my seat, a changed person. The old Silverine was dead. In her place stood a female mutant bus ticket hating ninja turtle err girl.
Nowadays, when the conductor hands me the ticket, I no longer gasp and act like I am being handed a severed human head. I merely hold up an eyebrow tweezer and pluck it straight out of his hands. The ticket is then dropped into a plastic bag that is promptly thrown into the dustbin when I reach office. I do get strange looks from some conductors, but most of them are fine. Because they are too busy wetting their fingers with saliva for the next passenger, to notice.
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
A little knowledge of Hindi is a dangerous thing
Mallus and Hindi are as similar as Roti and Puttu. And every other day some mallu or the other rams home that point with vehemence, just in case you have been lulled into an artificial sense of security that mallus have mastered Hindi. Today, one on my mallu colleagues reached the zenith of Hindi blooperism.
Mallu and couple of colleagues were discussing something very animatedly but in hush tones. It was obvious that they were gossiping. Another colleague walks past, glances at them and asks "Kya ho rah hai!"
A perfectly innocent rhetorical question that Mallu should have left alone.
But Mallu looks up and says "Gupt gyan* ho raha hai!"
Don’t judge him too harshly folks. The word "confidential information" is not easy to translate into Hindi. Anyone could have made that mistake.
Now let me go and continue rolling on the floor laughing my a**e off. I took a small break from LMAO’ing to blog this. Ciao.
p.s. Mallu was overheard saying "The word is 'gopneeya'! Dammit."
* loosely translated it means... s** education
Mallu and couple of colleagues were discussing something very animatedly but in hush tones. It was obvious that they were gossiping. Another colleague walks past, glances at them and asks "Kya ho rah hai!"
A perfectly innocent rhetorical question that Mallu should have left alone.
But Mallu looks up and says "Gupt gyan* ho raha hai!"
Don’t judge him too harshly folks. The word "confidential information" is not easy to translate into Hindi. Anyone could have made that mistake.
Now let me go and continue rolling on the floor laughing my a**e off. I took a small break from LMAO’ing to blog this. Ciao.
p.s. Mallu was overheard saying "The word is 'gopneeya'! Dammit."
* loosely translated it means... s** education
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Successful Customer Retention. A Case Study
I love my Internet Service Provider and Land line Company’s (ISPL) Customer Service service. They make my dull and drab life so interesting. They make me appreciate the value of time and generally remind me of... well, let me illustrate to you what I mean.
You have a complaint/query and you pick up the phone that has been provided "by" the ISPL and dial a four digit number. You get this short message.
Please press One for English, Two for Kannada, Three for Hindi which we will try to translate using Google translator.
You press One and get this message.
For Bill Details press, One.
For Internet or Broadband fault, press, Two
For any other complaints or requests press, Three
You press the number Two and get another message...
For Internet not working Press One
For phone not working Press Two...
For... etc
After half an excruciating hour later of repeated stress injuries to your finger, you are a connected to a Customer Service Executive, who asks.
“Please give your name, phone number and nature of complaint….” and you faint in sheer exhaustion at the thought of giving the information all over again.
And you never dare to call again. See how efficiently they deal with your complaint!
If you want to change your provider, it requires spending half a day pressing numbers One to Nine in various orders to make a request. No one has done it till now. And I have no plans of breaking that record either. *shudder*
I value my time and sanity too much for that.
You have a complaint/query and you pick up the phone that has been provided "by" the ISPL and dial a four digit number. You get this short message.
Please press One for English, Two for Kannada, Three for Hindi which we will try to translate using Google translator.
You press One and get this message.
For Bill Details press, One.
For Internet or Broadband fault, press, Two
For any other complaints or requests press, Three
You press the number Two and get another message...
For Internet not working Press One
For phone not working Press Two...
For... etc
After half an excruciating hour later of repeated stress injuries to your finger, you are a connected to a Customer Service Executive, who asks.
“Please give your name, phone number and nature of complaint….” and you faint in sheer exhaustion at the thought of giving the information all over again.
And you never dare to call again. See how efficiently they deal with your complaint!
If you want to change your provider, it requires spending half a day pressing numbers One to Nine in various orders to make a request. No one has done it till now. And I have no plans of breaking that record either. *shudder*
I value my time and sanity too much for that.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Professional hazards...
3 pm and I am busy screaming at a vendor who hasn’t kept his promise of delivery yet again. The Internal Messenger pops up. “Cute guy at reception" says the message. I count the number of girls in the message. 5!!! This means in approximately five minutes 5 girls will make a laborious journey to the rest rooms via the Cafeteria, via the Sysadmin console, via the Travel Desk, via some cubicles and finally via the Reception to the loo that is in front of our cubicles. I decline because all I could think of was catching the sleazy bugger and choking his throat slowly till he died.
The girls near the target that is a meter away...
Girl 1 (aloud): And I have sent you the Excel with the metrics of the last event.
Girl 2 : I received it but I am waiting for that mail from Jamila.
Girl 3: Did anyone see Udaan?
Girl 4: Awesome movie!!
After target is out of ear shot...
Girl 1: He is sooooo cute yaaar!!
Girl 2: Hmm… yes in a boyish way.
Girl 3: True, very boyish but sexy nevertheless ;)
Girl 5: I have seen him before I think.
Girl 1, 2, 3 and 4: What!!!! And you went ogling without informing us??? *collective gasp*
Girl 5: Err… I happened to see him somewhere. I had no time to inform you gals.
Girl 1: About turn girls, I want to have a look at him again.
The girls about turn and promptly bump into me.
Me: Has anyone seen a guy with a gray shirt and white tie?
Girl 1: Yes!! He is at the reception. And he is damn cute looking!
Me: He is!! Is he??? Heh Heh *evil sneer* When I get my hands on him he will not look cute anymore…@#$%@!!!
Girl 2: Whoa... what happened?
Me: Arey! He is that same gift vendor Gupta, who has been hoodwinking me for the past six months!
Girl 3: Gupta? The same guy who called me ‘bery bery bootiful' on the phone?
Me: Yup!
Girl 3: Ugh!
Girl 4: He sent me a liver colored coffee mug with pink hearts for New Year! Ewwww!
Girl 5: Hey! Now I remember where I saw him!! Anjali was chasing him down the fire escape some months ago! *grin*
Everyone, looking at each other: Eeeeeeeks!!!
Me: Why eeks?
Girl 1: Err… nothing. We gotta go now. Bye.
Me: !!!!
Overheard as they walk way rapidly…
Girl 5: Looks can be so deceiving no?
The rest: *Gulp* Yes!
Music - Chemical Rush
The girls near the target that is a meter away...
Girl 1 (aloud): And I have sent you the Excel with the metrics of the last event.
Girl 2 : I received it but I am waiting for that mail from Jamila.
Girl 3: Did anyone see Udaan?
Girl 4: Awesome movie!!
After target is out of ear shot...
Girl 1: He is sooooo cute yaaar!!
Girl 2: Hmm… yes in a boyish way.
Girl 3: True, very boyish but sexy nevertheless ;)
Girl 5: I have seen him before I think.
Girl 1, 2, 3 and 4: What!!!! And you went ogling without informing us??? *collective gasp*
Girl 5: Err… I happened to see him somewhere. I had no time to inform you gals.
Girl 1: About turn girls, I want to have a look at him again.
The girls about turn and promptly bump into me.
Me: Has anyone seen a guy with a gray shirt and white tie?
Girl 1: Yes!! He is at the reception. And he is damn cute looking!
Me: He is!! Is he??? Heh Heh *evil sneer* When I get my hands on him he will not look cute anymore…@#$%@!!!
Girl 2: Whoa... what happened?
Me: Arey! He is that same gift vendor Gupta, who has been hoodwinking me for the past six months!
Girl 3: Gupta? The same guy who called me ‘bery bery bootiful' on the phone?
Me: Yup!
Girl 3: Ugh!
Girl 4: He sent me a liver colored coffee mug with pink hearts for New Year! Ewwww!
Girl 5: Hey! Now I remember where I saw him!! Anjali was chasing him down the fire escape some months ago! *grin*
Everyone, looking at each other: Eeeeeeeks!!!
Me: Why eeks?
Girl 1: Err… nothing. We gotta go now. Bye.
Me: !!!!
Overheard as they walk way rapidly…
Girl 5: Looks can be so deceiving no?
The rest: *Gulp* Yes!
Music - Chemical Rush
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Close encounter with the government types
“You are going to *censored*,” said the boss peeping over the cubicle wall scaring the living daylights out of me.
“Take Kevin with you.” He said disappearing down the hallway.
“Why should I go to *censored*!!” I protested running after him.
“Because you met the Fisheries Director that is why!” He said without stopping
“So what!” I shouted furiously trying to keep pace with him.
“These government types feel good if someone from the company visits them. They feel insulted if the Business partner (Dealer) lands up for the installation alone.” The boss stopped to explain, before striding off.
I stared at the Boss’s receding back with a sinking feeling, walked dejectedly up to Kevin’s seat, sat down on a chair and sighed. Kevin looked at me alarmed. He didn’t have much client experience but knew from practical experience that if I came near his seat and sighed “he” was in big trouble.
“Oh god! Why does it have to be me?” wailed Kevin in despair. I grinned evilly, feeling a little better now. “We are going on a long trip...” I said peering dangerously at him. “A very long trip…from which I hope we come home alive…” I said sinisterly, before walking away with an air of mystery.
Next day we were at the airport at the crack of dawn. Me in a bad mood and Kevin in a pensive mood. The flight was uneventful save for Kevin trying his best to explain to his co-passenger that the picture of the black box in the brochure he was carrying for the client was a Server and not a refrigerator.
We reached the capital city of this umm State in good time and were met at the airport by a rather antique looking Ambassador car, polished to perfection, complete with white Turkish towels on the seat. The driver looked like a Naval Captain and I nearly saluted him. I was saved some embarrassment by his salute. That’s when we realized that he was the driver. The conversation in the car was err… interesting.
You coming from Bangalore sir?
Yes sir!
And you madam.
Yes Admiral err Sir!
You coming here for the first time?
No Sir!
Then you must know XYZ. Very famous place.
Yes Sir!
Call me ABC
Yes Mr. ABC!
No no, just ABC!!
Yes Sir!!
!!!!
We drove to this huge dilapidated bungalow that was the Directors office and were ushered in by another government type. Thankfully he wore khakhi. Phew!
We looked around. The bungalow would make a nice setting for a horrible Hindi horror movie. There was a dilapidated staircase for the ghost to walk down singing a mournful song and windows that rattled about on single hinges. We wouldn’t have been surprised if a lady wearing white walked down the steps singing a ghostly song.
In the dim light we saw the fat and jovial director sitting on a nondescript table with a plastic drum next to his chair. “Welcome welcome” he beamed and shook hands with Kevin. I withdrew my hands when I realized he wasn’t going to shake it. He greeted me with a “Namaste” and motioned us to sit down.
After we were seated, we looked around again. The musty office consisted of several chairs, tables and cupboard in what once was an olive green color. “Do you want tea?” Asked the director cutting into our reverie.
“No, thank you.” we replied in unison.
“Then you must taste our Buttersilk* fish!! (* not its real name) exclaimed the Director.
“No thanks! We had breakfast!” we said politely.
“No no no! This is a delicacy. You MUST taste it” said the director emphatically.
The he leaned to his side like he was going to keel over and just when we thought he was going to topple; he straightened up with a wriggling fish in his hands. Before we say “Holy Fish” he bought the fish crashing onto the table with a bang. Scales flew everywhere. Kevin and I sat stunned, unable to comprehend what had just happened. I started giggling hysterically when I saw the scales in Kevin’s neatly gelled hair and chest. Poor Kevin was desperately fighting with the clingy scales on his face and neck.
The Director kept the half dead fish on a tray on the table and started reading the technical literature we had bought for him. There was no reaction from anyone in the room. As if on cue, a rather small made lady got up silently, took the now dead fish and walked over to the other room that I think was the kitchen. I think she was the stores in-charge. I could see her cleaning the fish in the kitchen. She left the cleaned fish in the kitchen and came back and sat at her table and resumed filing like nothing had happened.
Kevin and I looked at each other. There was no movement from any body in the room. Two minutes later, a quite soda glassed man got up and went into the kitchen. He was the accountant. He seemed to be cutting the fish and soon the aroma of frying fish filled the air. Now the dour looking man sitting on another table and writing a ledger or file, pulled out his desk drawers and bought out, one onion and a tomato. We gasped.
He pulled out a knife from another drawer and started slicing the vegetables with the precision of a salad chef. He finished cutting the vegetables and kept the veggies on a ceramic plate in the Out Box tray. Dour guy went back to work after wiping his hands and glancing at us briefly. Now we were very sure we were in the Twilight Zone.
Just when we thought the live demonstration of red tapism was over, the peon who was sitting on a stool at the entrance of the office got up and bought the plate of fish and salad to the Director’s table. We looked around. Everyone was back to work as though nothing had a happened in the room. My first instinct was to get up and run and not stop till I reached Bangalore. But this account was very important for us. I looked at Kevin and he looked at me. Both of us were looking very scared.
When the Director asked us to eat the fish, we didn’t dare to say “no”. What if the same people who enacted the chilling routine of killing and frying the fish did the same with us. Half an hour later, we left the office with Buttersilk fish coming out of our ears. To make things worse, the Director had packed some fish for us to have on the way. And oh yes! You guessed it right. The packing was also done with precision red tapism that I won’t get into.
Of course, we threw the fish packet in the nearest dust bin. We didn’t want to carry ANY reminder of the trip back home!
We are back in Bangalore and if the Boss so much as mentions “Client Visit” we pull out the Resignation Letters that we prepared with a vengeance the moment we got back to Bangalore.
Have a nice week folks!
“Take Kevin with you.” He said disappearing down the hallway.
“Why should I go to *censored*!!” I protested running after him.
“Because you met the Fisheries Director that is why!” He said without stopping
“So what!” I shouted furiously trying to keep pace with him.
“These government types feel good if someone from the company visits them. They feel insulted if the Business partner (Dealer) lands up for the installation alone.” The boss stopped to explain, before striding off.
I stared at the Boss’s receding back with a sinking feeling, walked dejectedly up to Kevin’s seat, sat down on a chair and sighed. Kevin looked at me alarmed. He didn’t have much client experience but knew from practical experience that if I came near his seat and sighed “he” was in big trouble.
“Oh god! Why does it have to be me?” wailed Kevin in despair. I grinned evilly, feeling a little better now. “We are going on a long trip...” I said peering dangerously at him. “A very long trip…from which I hope we come home alive…” I said sinisterly, before walking away with an air of mystery.
Next day we were at the airport at the crack of dawn. Me in a bad mood and Kevin in a pensive mood. The flight was uneventful save for Kevin trying his best to explain to his co-passenger that the picture of the black box in the brochure he was carrying for the client was a Server and not a refrigerator.
We reached the capital city of this umm State in good time and were met at the airport by a rather antique looking Ambassador car, polished to perfection, complete with white Turkish towels on the seat. The driver looked like a Naval Captain and I nearly saluted him. I was saved some embarrassment by his salute. That’s when we realized that he was the driver. The conversation in the car was err… interesting.
You coming from Bangalore sir?
Yes sir!
And you madam.
Yes Admiral err Sir!
You coming here for the first time?
No Sir!
Then you must know XYZ. Very famous place.
Yes Sir!
Call me ABC
Yes Mr. ABC!
No no, just ABC!!
Yes Sir!!
!!!!
We drove to this huge dilapidated bungalow that was the Directors office and were ushered in by another government type. Thankfully he wore khakhi. Phew!
We looked around. The bungalow would make a nice setting for a horrible Hindi horror movie. There was a dilapidated staircase for the ghost to walk down singing a mournful song and windows that rattled about on single hinges. We wouldn’t have been surprised if a lady wearing white walked down the steps singing a ghostly song.
In the dim light we saw the fat and jovial director sitting on a nondescript table with a plastic drum next to his chair. “Welcome welcome” he beamed and shook hands with Kevin. I withdrew my hands when I realized he wasn’t going to shake it. He greeted me with a “Namaste” and motioned us to sit down.
After we were seated, we looked around again. The musty office consisted of several chairs, tables and cupboard in what once was an olive green color. “Do you want tea?” Asked the director cutting into our reverie.
“No, thank you.” we replied in unison.
“Then you must taste our Buttersilk* fish!! (* not its real name) exclaimed the Director.
“No thanks! We had breakfast!” we said politely.
“No no no! This is a delicacy. You MUST taste it” said the director emphatically.
The he leaned to his side like he was going to keel over and just when we thought he was going to topple; he straightened up with a wriggling fish in his hands. Before we say “Holy Fish” he bought the fish crashing onto the table with a bang. Scales flew everywhere. Kevin and I sat stunned, unable to comprehend what had just happened. I started giggling hysterically when I saw the scales in Kevin’s neatly gelled hair and chest. Poor Kevin was desperately fighting with the clingy scales on his face and neck.
The Director kept the half dead fish on a tray on the table and started reading the technical literature we had bought for him. There was no reaction from anyone in the room. As if on cue, a rather small made lady got up silently, took the now dead fish and walked over to the other room that I think was the kitchen. I think she was the stores in-charge. I could see her cleaning the fish in the kitchen. She left the cleaned fish in the kitchen and came back and sat at her table and resumed filing like nothing had happened.
Kevin and I looked at each other. There was no movement from any body in the room. Two minutes later, a quite soda glassed man got up and went into the kitchen. He was the accountant. He seemed to be cutting the fish and soon the aroma of frying fish filled the air. Now the dour looking man sitting on another table and writing a ledger or file, pulled out his desk drawers and bought out, one onion and a tomato. We gasped.
He pulled out a knife from another drawer and started slicing the vegetables with the precision of a salad chef. He finished cutting the vegetables and kept the veggies on a ceramic plate in the Out Box tray. Dour guy went back to work after wiping his hands and glancing at us briefly. Now we were very sure we were in the Twilight Zone.
Just when we thought the live demonstration of red tapism was over, the peon who was sitting on a stool at the entrance of the office got up and bought the plate of fish and salad to the Director’s table. We looked around. Everyone was back to work as though nothing had a happened in the room. My first instinct was to get up and run and not stop till I reached Bangalore. But this account was very important for us. I looked at Kevin and he looked at me. Both of us were looking very scared.
When the Director asked us to eat the fish, we didn’t dare to say “no”. What if the same people who enacted the chilling routine of killing and frying the fish did the same with us. Half an hour later, we left the office with Buttersilk fish coming out of our ears. To make things worse, the Director had packed some fish for us to have on the way. And oh yes! You guessed it right. The packing was also done with precision red tapism that I won’t get into.
Of course, we threw the fish packet in the nearest dust bin. We didn’t want to carry ANY reminder of the trip back home!
We are back in Bangalore and if the Boss so much as mentions “Client Visit” we pull out the Resignation Letters that we prepared with a vengeance the moment we got back to Bangalore.
Have a nice week folks!
Monday, July 12, 2010
Nightmare on adjacent street
“AAH… AAH… AAH!!!” Moaned a voice from House no 14 in the street adjacent to my house. Startled, I looked at the house. It was dark, save for a blue light coming through the bedroom window. It was the house of a newly married couple. I blushed in embarrassment.
I walked a little faster with my doggies trotting in tow, to give the couple some privacy.
“AAAHHHhh” cried another voice in anguish…or was it ecstasy from the next house. This was a not so newly married couple’s house. I quickened my pace blushing, and was at House no 16 in quick time. I seem to have made a terrible mistake coming on this quiet lane at this time of the night for a walk.
“OOOHHHhhh” cried a voice from the next house startling me out of my skin. I was thoroughly embarrassed now. It seemed like there was an orgy going on in this house. Or my neighbors were being murdered or were involved in a wife swapping spree. Whatever the reason, the noises were disgusting!!
I reached the last house in the street in a 100 meter dash, hoping against hope that I won’t have to listen to anymore unsavory noises when I heard the blood curdling...“GOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAALLLLL!!!!”
I smiled sheepishly and looked at my dogs. They were looking at me eyebrows raised with an expression that said, “So, what were YOU thinking huh?”
Music - Night forest
I walked a little faster with my doggies trotting in tow, to give the couple some privacy.
“AAAHHHhh” cried another voice in anguish…or was it ecstasy from the next house. This was a not so newly married couple’s house. I quickened my pace blushing, and was at House no 16 in quick time. I seem to have made a terrible mistake coming on this quiet lane at this time of the night for a walk.
“OOOHHHhhh” cried a voice from the next house startling me out of my skin. I was thoroughly embarrassed now. It seemed like there was an orgy going on in this house. Or my neighbors were being murdered or were involved in a wife swapping spree. Whatever the reason, the noises were disgusting!!
I reached the last house in the street in a 100 meter dash, hoping against hope that I won’t have to listen to anymore unsavory noises when I heard the blood curdling...“GOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAALLLLL!!!!”
I smiled sheepishly and looked at my dogs. They were looking at me eyebrows raised with an expression that said, “So, what were YOU thinking huh?”
Music - Night forest
Sunday, July 04, 2010
Inter-party clashes
Heard this in the cafeteria the other day.
Some gal: Whose send off or birthday party was last week?
HR Exec: I don’t remember. There were quite a few.
Same gal: You remember, the one in which we got Samosas and Chips and Fanta!
HR Exec: Hmmmm...
Gal: The other two were the Black forest cake, Sprite and chipswallah party and the coke, chips and pineapple pastrywallah party!
HR Exec: That would be Nishanth I think.
Gal: Cheapo!!!
HR Exec: Arey! Why you calling him cheapo.
Gal: Whoever gives lime juice these days huh?
HR Exec (evenly): We organized the party!
Gal: Oh! In that case forget what I said. I thought he hosted the party. See ya!
HR Exec: !!!
Now I don’t remember from which send off/birthday/promotion party, I picked up this plate of Vada Pav and Vegetable cutlet from!
I am getting old :(
Some gal: Whose send off or birthday party was last week?
HR Exec: I don’t remember. There were quite a few.
Same gal: You remember, the one in which we got Samosas and Chips and Fanta!
HR Exec: Hmmmm...
Gal: The other two were the Black forest cake, Sprite and chipswallah party and the coke, chips and pineapple pastrywallah party!
HR Exec: That would be Nishanth I think.
Gal: Cheapo!!!
HR Exec: Arey! Why you calling him cheapo.
Gal: Whoever gives lime juice these days huh?
HR Exec (evenly): We organized the party!
Gal: Oh! In that case forget what I said. I thought he hosted the party. See ya!
HR Exec: !!!
Now I don’t remember from which send off/birthday/promotion party, I picked up this plate of Vada Pav and Vegetable cutlet from!
I am getting old :(
Monday, June 28, 2010
Bungalored!
Heard this at a mall yesterday. A group of middle aged North Indians, who are perhaps on a South India tour, were sitting at the restaurant in the mall, discussing stuff.
Bunglore mein log English bolte hain! (People in Bangalore speak in English)
Haanji, yahaan sab log English mein baath karthe hain. (True, everybody speaks English here)
Kyon? (Why?)
Woh aisa hai, Bunglore ke log Anglo Indians hain naah, isliye. (Because people of Bangalore are Anglo Indians, that's why!)
Oh!
I was too busy choking on the milk shake to hear the rest of the conversation. Hope they had a nice trip of 'Bunglore' though.
No offense meant to anyone please. And please excuse my Hindi. We Anglo Indians are not exactly proficient in Hindi. :)
Have a nice week folks!
Bunglore mein log English bolte hain! (People in Bangalore speak in English)
Haanji, yahaan sab log English mein baath karthe hain. (True, everybody speaks English here)
Kyon? (Why?)
Woh aisa hai, Bunglore ke log Anglo Indians hain naah, isliye. (Because people of Bangalore are Anglo Indians, that's why!)
Oh!
I was too busy choking on the milk shake to hear the rest of the conversation. Hope they had a nice trip of 'Bunglore' though.
No offense meant to anyone please. And please excuse my Hindi. We Anglo Indians are not exactly proficient in Hindi. :)
Have a nice week folks!
Monday, June 21, 2010
Groomed to desperation
My cousin brother had just got admission in this Management Institute. On the first day of class, he was busy getting ready when his Grandfather, an ex army officer called from Kerala. Cuz brother ignored the call as he was getting very late. But gramps kept calling. Putting his phone in silent mode he went to class and during lunch break called his grandfather who had by now notched up about about 456 missed calls approximately.
Grandfather (yelling): I've been calling you since morning. Why didn’t you pick up the phone!!!
Cuz bro: I was getting late appachcha and then I was in class...
Grandpa (still yelling): That is no excuse!!!!!!!!! I wanted to tell you something important....
Cuz bro: *gulp* Sorry appachcha...
Grandpa (yelling more loudly): I don’t want to hear your bloody sorry!!!
Cuz bro (now panicking): What happened Appacha, is Ammachi fine? Something happened?
Grandpa (grouchily): Yes, yes, she is fine.
Cuz bro (panicking more): Then it must be mum or dad...
Grandpa: They are fine too.
Cuz bro (losing his cool): Then who is it!!!!!
Grandpa: Don’t shout!! I wanted to remind you to shave before going to class. Today is first day no! And to polish your shoes and make sure your shirt is ironed the way I taught you.
Cuz bro: Bl$#%y F@&!ing Sh#T!!!
Grandpa: What did you say!!
Cuz bro: Nothing appachcha. I gotta go….
Grandpa: Bye mone, and don’t forget to trim your nose hair....
Cuz bro: *SLAM!!*
His new friends sitting at the table were then treated to an amazing display of pyrotechnics when their docile looking classmate with an army hair cut, picked up a large text book and thumped the table again and again till it was reduced to pulp. He then walked off in a huff. They now keep a safe distance from him.
Grandfather (yelling): I've been calling you since morning. Why didn’t you pick up the phone!!!
Cuz bro: I was getting late appachcha and then I was in class...
Grandpa (still yelling): That is no excuse!!!!!!!!! I wanted to tell you something important....
Cuz bro: *gulp* Sorry appachcha...
Grandpa (yelling more loudly): I don’t want to hear your bloody sorry!!!
Cuz bro (now panicking): What happened Appacha, is Ammachi fine? Something happened?
Grandpa (grouchily): Yes, yes, she is fine.
Cuz bro (panicking more): Then it must be mum or dad...
Grandpa: They are fine too.
Cuz bro (losing his cool): Then who is it!!!!!
Grandpa: Don’t shout!! I wanted to remind you to shave before going to class. Today is first day no! And to polish your shoes and make sure your shirt is ironed the way I taught you.
Cuz bro: Bl$#%y F@&!ing Sh#T!!!
Grandpa: What did you say!!
Cuz bro: Nothing appachcha. I gotta go….
Grandpa: Bye mone, and don’t forget to trim your nose hair....
Cuz bro: *SLAM!!*
His new friends sitting at the table were then treated to an amazing display of pyrotechnics when their docile looking classmate with an army hair cut, picked up a large text book and thumped the table again and again till it was reduced to pulp. He then walked off in a huff. They now keep a safe distance from him.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Training for beginners
How to convince the HR and your Boss that you actually read the training document on the Intranet.
Step one: Open training site.
Now open another tab and read some blogs.
Step two: Click first link of the training document.
Open another tab, Tweet
Step four: Click second link of the training document.
Watch Youtube.
Step three: Click third link of the training document.
Read news
Step four: Click fourth and final link of the training document.
GChat, Yahoo messenger, MSN etc.
Step five: Give very positive feedback about the quality of training material at the end of the document and submit feedback.
Wait for training completion mail to drop in Inbox and stick your head into Boss cabin and watch with great pleasure as he reads with growing disbelief the auto mail from HR about his employee's successful completion of training in two hours and twenty minutes covering all four topics.
Stick head out before he face palms and calls the HR #%&@*# morons!!
Pick up a coffee and bask in the satisfaction of a job well done.
Have a nice week folks!
Step one: Open training site.
Now open another tab and read some blogs.
Step two: Click first link of the training document.
Open another tab, Tweet
Step four: Click second link of the training document.
Watch Youtube.
Step three: Click third link of the training document.
Read news
Step four: Click fourth and final link of the training document.
GChat, Yahoo messenger, MSN etc.
Step five: Give very positive feedback about the quality of training material at the end of the document and submit feedback.
Wait for training completion mail to drop in Inbox and stick your head into Boss cabin and watch with great pleasure as he reads with growing disbelief the auto mail from HR about his employee's successful completion of training in two hours and twenty minutes covering all four topics.
Stick head out before he face palms and calls the HR #%&@*# morons!!
Pick up a coffee and bask in the satisfaction of a job well done.
Have a nice week folks!
Sunday, June 06, 2010
Sense and over sensibility
Mohapatra (not his real name), our Procurement Manager, was sitting in the cafeteria, trying to open a small bottle of Nimbooz. The bottle cap just wouldn't turn. The boss walked in and took a chair at Mohapatra’s table and said conversationally. “What Mohapatra, you cannot even open a small bottle!!”
Mohapatra stopped his struggle with the bottle, stared at the Boss from behind soda glasses and said, “You think I cannot open this bottle!! I can pick this table up with one hand!!”
“I am sure you can,” said the Boss trying to change the subject realizing that Mohapatra had not understood the friendly jibe. But it was too late.
“I was wrestling champion in school you know!” continued Mohapatra. “I won the trophy every year.”
“That’s great” said the Boss looking a little wary. He got up.
“Sit down.” said Mohaptra pulling him down to the chair.
“This cap is fused with the bottle” said Mohapotra holding up the bottle. “Otherwise I would have opened it just like that!!’
“I am sure you could have. I was joking Patra...” said the Boss getting up again.
“Sit…” said Mohaptra gesturing to the chair. The Boss sat down resignedly and looked around for help. But we were too busy snickering to be of any help.
“You think I am weak?” asked Mohaptra leaning forward and looking intently at the Boss.
“No Patra. I was just pulling your leg….” trailed the Boss helplessly.
“I challenge you to a match of wrestling!” said Mohaptra staring at the Boss without taking his eyes off his face.
“I am sure you will win heh heh” laughed the Boss nervously.
“I will win and show you!” said Mohapatra wagging his finger.
“Err no need of all that. I am sure you are a champ…” said the Boss edging slowly off his seat.
“Don’t ever doubt me again Boss.” said Mohapatra shaking his head shaking his head from side to side.
“I won’t” said the Boss relieved that the standoff was coming to an end.
“Yes, you shouldn’t!” said Mohapatra looking satisfied.
“See you then....” said the Boss getting up and walking way quickly.
“Boss!” called Mohapatra.
The Boss stopped, looked around warily and queried gingerly “Yes?”
“Can you open this bottle for me?” said Mohapotra thrusting the Nimbooz bottle at him.
We were too busy rolling on the floor laughing to see what happened next. But the group at the other table saw the Boss open the bottle, keep it on the table without a word and walk away.
Mohapatra picked up the bottle and drank nonchalantly like nothing had happened.
Mohapatra stopped his struggle with the bottle, stared at the Boss from behind soda glasses and said, “You think I cannot open this bottle!! I can pick this table up with one hand!!”
“I am sure you can,” said the Boss trying to change the subject realizing that Mohapatra had not understood the friendly jibe. But it was too late.
“I was wrestling champion in school you know!” continued Mohapatra. “I won the trophy every year.”
“That’s great” said the Boss looking a little wary. He got up.
“Sit down.” said Mohaptra pulling him down to the chair.
“This cap is fused with the bottle” said Mohapotra holding up the bottle. “Otherwise I would have opened it just like that!!’
“I am sure you could have. I was joking Patra...” said the Boss getting up again.
“Sit…” said Mohaptra gesturing to the chair. The Boss sat down resignedly and looked around for help. But we were too busy snickering to be of any help.
“You think I am weak?” asked Mohaptra leaning forward and looking intently at the Boss.
“No Patra. I was just pulling your leg….” trailed the Boss helplessly.
“I challenge you to a match of wrestling!” said Mohaptra staring at the Boss without taking his eyes off his face.
“I am sure you will win heh heh” laughed the Boss nervously.
“I will win and show you!” said Mohapatra wagging his finger.
“Err no need of all that. I am sure you are a champ…” said the Boss edging slowly off his seat.
“Don’t ever doubt me again Boss.” said Mohapatra shaking his head shaking his head from side to side.
“I won’t” said the Boss relieved that the standoff was coming to an end.
“Yes, you shouldn’t!” said Mohapatra looking satisfied.
“See you then....” said the Boss getting up and walking way quickly.
“Boss!” called Mohapatra.
The Boss stopped, looked around warily and queried gingerly “Yes?”
“Can you open this bottle for me?” said Mohapotra thrusting the Nimbooz bottle at him.
We were too busy rolling on the floor laughing to see what happened next. But the group at the other table saw the Boss open the bottle, keep it on the table without a word and walk away.
Mohapatra picked up the bottle and drank nonchalantly like nothing had happened.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Counter strike
I had a call from a telecaller today.
Caller: Ms Anjali?
Me (crabbily): Whaddya want?
Caller: Would you be interested in buying phone numbers of…
Me: No thanks, we don’t do such activities! *slam*
Caller (calling again): I am talking about a database of over four million phone numbers in Bangalore ma’am!!
Me: Hmmm are these numbers genuine?
Caller: Yes ma’am. We take them from reliable sources like Banks, phone companies, hospital records, insurance companies, passport office… we have contacts everywhere!
Me: *gulp*
Caller: You can reach out to millions of people with your promotional SMS’es…
Me: Interestinggggg…!!!
Caller: Heh heh it is, isn’t it madam! Think of the possibilities…
Me: Thinking about it right now dude! Tell me…
Caller (eagerly): Yes!!!!
Me: How much would it cost me to have my phone number erased from your databases?
Caller: *SLAM!!!*
How rude!!!
Muzeek - Your Love Is My Drug
Caller: Ms Anjali?
Me (crabbily): Whaddya want?
Caller: Would you be interested in buying phone numbers of…
Me: No thanks, we don’t do such activities! *slam*
Caller (calling again): I am talking about a database of over four million phone numbers in Bangalore ma’am!!
Me: Hmmm are these numbers genuine?
Caller: Yes ma’am. We take them from reliable sources like Banks, phone companies, hospital records, insurance companies, passport office… we have contacts everywhere!
Me: *gulp*
Caller: You can reach out to millions of people with your promotional SMS’es…
Me: Interestinggggg…!!!
Caller: Heh heh it is, isn’t it madam! Think of the possibilities…
Me: Thinking about it right now dude! Tell me…
Caller (eagerly): Yes!!!!
Me: How much would it cost me to have my phone number erased from your databases?
Caller: *SLAM!!!*
How rude!!!
Muzeek - Your Love Is My Drug
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Corporate bachelors
I was undergoing some training with this guy in our office. After sitting with him in his cubicle for an hour on the first day, I moved back to my seat on the 6th floor, and practiced the usage of a content tool that he had run me through. If I got stuck, I would message him over IM and he would promptly clear my doubts in between lots of smileys and encouragement to get in touch with him anytime. I wondered if he was sort of addicted to smileys.
Finally I got the use of the tool and messaged him to thank him for his help during the learning period. He replied with a smiley. I signed off wishing him a nice weekend. His response was “Cya on Monday!’
I turned to my colleague who was sitting next to me and exclaimed aloud. "Why is he flirting with me! Isn't he married?”
Colleague interjected sarcastically,“Shh... don’t say the M word aloud girl! We do not say that word unless people already know about it!”
“What!!” I said astounded.
“Look around” she said dramatically, standing up and waving her hands over the entire floor.
I stood up and looked at the sea of male faces and realized with a sinking feeling, that most of us girls didn’t know how many of these young guys were married and how many were not.
Bummer!
Note to self: On Monday morning, conclude the training session formally... by inquiring about the wife's health.
Finally I got the use of the tool and messaged him to thank him for his help during the learning period. He replied with a smiley. I signed off wishing him a nice weekend. His response was “Cya on Monday!’
I turned to my colleague who was sitting next to me and exclaimed aloud. "Why is he flirting with me! Isn't he married?”
Colleague interjected sarcastically,“Shh... don’t say the M word aloud girl! We do not say that word unless people already know about it!”
“What!!” I said astounded.
“Look around” she said dramatically, standing up and waving her hands over the entire floor.
I stood up and looked at the sea of male faces and realized with a sinking feeling, that most of us girls didn’t know how many of these young guys were married and how many were not.
Bummer!
Note to self: On Monday morning, conclude the training session formally... by inquiring about the wife's health.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Miracle!
Here's some news I got as a ppt forward, that will make you feel good
Recent miracle in Dot Bust Corporation!
Broadcasted in Top News Channels of Byrasandra.
A Boss man in DOT BUST Corp, punished his highly efficient, beautiful and gorgeous Marcom Manager because she was reported to be blogging, by burying her alive in work!
He then reported to the Bigger Boss that the poor gal was on leave to hide the evidence. 15 days later, another team member was caught tweeting and when they went to bury him in the conference room, they found the Marcom Manager under the pile of work - ALIVE!
The whole office is outraged over the incident, and took a few seconds off from Internet browsing to cluck their tongue in disapproval at the boss. The Marcomm Manager was asked how she had survived and she said:- 'A man wearing shiny white clothes, with bleeding wounds in his hands, came every day to help me with my work. She said, 'This was none other than Jesus, because nobody else does things like this!'
It is clear that the girl could not make up a story like this, as she sucks at bullshitting (the entire office disagrees though) and there is no way she could have survived without a true miracle.
Boss and the Big Boss are going to have a hard time to figure out what to do with this, and the popularity of blockbuster movies like The Passion of Christ doesn't help! With the gal having a blog, you can be sure this story will spread. Christ is still controlling and turning the world.
Please let this story be shared..
Remember, Jesus said “He who defiles me before men with dreadful powerpoint presentations, I will also defile their careers with really bad performance appraisals."
So let us pass this on...
Now please put this message in a pretty ppt presentation and send it to 10 suckers and that guy/gal you fancy will fall in love with you. If you send it to 25 suckers, you will get laid/married soon. If you send it to 50 or more suckers, then we can guarantee that you will not die a virgin.
The Lord says, "I will bless the person who will not forward corny stories about me." (Silverine 17)
Recent miracle in Dot Bust Corporation!
Broadcasted in Top News Channels of Byrasandra.
A Boss man in DOT BUST Corp, punished his highly efficient, beautiful and gorgeous Marcom Manager because she was reported to be blogging, by burying her alive in work!
He then reported to the Bigger Boss that the poor gal was on leave to hide the evidence. 15 days later, another team member was caught tweeting and when they went to bury him in the conference room, they found the Marcom Manager under the pile of work - ALIVE!
The whole office is outraged over the incident, and took a few seconds off from Internet browsing to cluck their tongue in disapproval at the boss. The Marcomm Manager was asked how she had survived and she said:- 'A man wearing shiny white clothes, with bleeding wounds in his hands, came every day to help me with my work. She said, 'This was none other than Jesus, because nobody else does things like this!'
It is clear that the girl could not make up a story like this, as she sucks at bullshitting (the entire office disagrees though) and there is no way she could have survived without a true miracle.
Boss and the Big Boss are going to have a hard time to figure out what to do with this, and the popularity of blockbuster movies like The Passion of Christ doesn't help! With the gal having a blog, you can be sure this story will spread. Christ is still controlling and turning the world.
Please let this story be shared..
Remember, Jesus said “He who defiles me before men with dreadful powerpoint presentations, I will also defile their careers with really bad performance appraisals."
So let us pass this on...
Now please put this message in a pretty ppt presentation and send it to 10 suckers and that guy/gal you fancy will fall in love with you. If you send it to 25 suckers, you will get laid/married soon. If you send it to 50 or more suckers, then we can guarantee that you will not die a virgin.
The Lord says, "I will bless the person who will not forward corny stories about me." (Silverine 17)
Monday, May 17, 2010
Close encounters of the unsporting kind
From the day I noticed some guys pushing a ball with a stick that seemed very much like my grandpa’s old umbrella stick, I have never understood Hockey. Now you might wonder why I needed to understand the game at all. And if I did not understand it then why bother?
Well... the answer to the aforementioned question is not very simple. My brother was a hockey player you see and represented his school in many glorious fights on the field and yellow cards, red cards and temporary suspensions and lifetime bans and while he was not cooling his heels on the bench he also played hockey. And when his school played against other schools in Bangalore, my Dad attended every match religiously with me. My Dad like a good and supportive Dad did not miss a single match if possible. And as a supportive Dad, he also believed firmly that all the referees were bad and had a personal vendetta against his son except the ones who let my brother off the hook for flagrant violations. I had a good teacher in my Dad and like most little girls; I too thought my Dad was always right. (I hope Sr. Genevieve is reading this and will understand my healthy disrespect for her authority).
Now being the only girl in the family of three very male males, my mom was damn particular that I should not turn into a tomboy. So while other girls wore Bermudas and pants with ease, my mother thought a very girly frilly frock is what I should be attired in to drive home the point that I was a girl…just in case I forget and do ungirly things like swear and climb trees. And she was right… I went on to become a nice little girl who wore frocks and swore and climbed trees.
So it was with frilly frocks and ribbons in the hair that I went to see the Hockey matches in various boys’ schools in Bangalore. I looked as natural as a nun on a dancing pole but then my Dad had no choice; it was that or leave me behind. And leave me behind he never did. He knew this was an opportunity to get me out of my mom’s nefarious “feminizing” designs. On the other hand he was also worried that I would grow up to be a girl. Therefore she never thought it amiss when my Dad told her that he was taking me to the hockey match to instill in me the sporting spirit besides he pointed out that I would also learn a lot from the experience. My Mom nodded pleased. She was sure it would be good for me.
As soon as we reached the grounds, the frilly frock would come off and I would be clothed in more appropriate denims and told to go have fun while my Dad joined the other Dads in cursing the referee. The result was that I came home looking like a dust devil wearing a very clean and neat frilly frock with the crease lines intact. There was nothing my ma could do. Dad had kept his end of the bargain. She still thinks this is one of the Unexplainable Mysteries of the world.
While the hockey match was in progress, us the non playing siblings of the sports stars had a lot to keep us amused. There was the school playground with swings and Jungle Gym and the balloon man who set up pole for every match. And of course the ice cream cart and various other vendors who lined up near the school gates. I just loved hockey matches for this. Unlimited ice creams and sweets and almost anything to keep me amused.
Me: Dad I want to go home!
Dad: Here is a fiver. Go buy yourself some ice cream.
Everyone agreed that I was the most sporting little girl around.
Now back to the game of Hockey. If I were to define Hockey, I would describe it as an enormous dust cloud! Frankly that’s all I saw of the game, besides dusty heads veering in and out creating more dust clouds in the grounds. Not that it mattered to me, but I had to come and give attendance to my dad from time to time to reassure him that I had not wandered off and it was kinda hard to spot him from the other dust covered Dads on the sidelines. It took some concerted staring to spot something familiar like a familiar shirt or pants or watch, to figure him out from the line of dusty Dads.
Me to a Dad: Are you my dad!
Dad: No! Whose kid are you?
Me: My Dad’s!
Dad: I suggest you look around baby!
Me: I did!! *sob*
Dad: Err don’t cry. How does you dad look like!
Me: He wears glasses!
Dad: Swell!
How did the dads make out their sons from among the dust colored players still beats me. Everyone looked the same! Sometimes bored of the swings and merry go rounds, I would wander in to watch the match. And then, I and the other teeny boppers played a unique game called Spot Your Sibling. This was a really difficult game and we rarely got it right! Another fiver and an ice cream set right the disappointment real fast.
After the game, the Dads sat around the outpatient lobby discussing the game, dissecting the scores and bad mouthing the referees while the sports stars got their hands and legs stitched up and black eyes attended to. Though I was not a hockey pro or a sports doctor, I sincerely felt that all that my brother and his team mates needed was the good old home remedy of... a solid arse whooping. My mother agreed. But who would listen to an eight year old? I sincerely feel that I had a bright future in sports medicine.
And yes, my brothers team never won a game, “because” of some spectacularly bad referring in favor of their highly talented, hard working and focused opponents.
Have a nice week friends!
Well... the answer to the aforementioned question is not very simple. My brother was a hockey player you see and represented his school in many glorious fights on the field and yellow cards, red cards and temporary suspensions and lifetime bans and while he was not cooling his heels on the bench he also played hockey. And when his school played against other schools in Bangalore, my Dad attended every match religiously with me. My Dad like a good and supportive Dad did not miss a single match if possible. And as a supportive Dad, he also believed firmly that all the referees were bad and had a personal vendetta against his son except the ones who let my brother off the hook for flagrant violations. I had a good teacher in my Dad and like most little girls; I too thought my Dad was always right. (I hope Sr. Genevieve is reading this and will understand my healthy disrespect for her authority).
Now being the only girl in the family of three very male males, my mom was damn particular that I should not turn into a tomboy. So while other girls wore Bermudas and pants with ease, my mother thought a very girly frilly frock is what I should be attired in to drive home the point that I was a girl…just in case I forget and do ungirly things like swear and climb trees. And she was right… I went on to become a nice little girl who wore frocks and swore and climbed trees.
So it was with frilly frocks and ribbons in the hair that I went to see the Hockey matches in various boys’ schools in Bangalore. I looked as natural as a nun on a dancing pole but then my Dad had no choice; it was that or leave me behind. And leave me behind he never did. He knew this was an opportunity to get me out of my mom’s nefarious “feminizing” designs. On the other hand he was also worried that I would grow up to be a girl. Therefore she never thought it amiss when my Dad told her that he was taking me to the hockey match to instill in me the sporting spirit besides he pointed out that I would also learn a lot from the experience. My Mom nodded pleased. She was sure it would be good for me.
As soon as we reached the grounds, the frilly frock would come off and I would be clothed in more appropriate denims and told to go have fun while my Dad joined the other Dads in cursing the referee. The result was that I came home looking like a dust devil wearing a very clean and neat frilly frock with the crease lines intact. There was nothing my ma could do. Dad had kept his end of the bargain. She still thinks this is one of the Unexplainable Mysteries of the world.
While the hockey match was in progress, us the non playing siblings of the sports stars had a lot to keep us amused. There was the school playground with swings and Jungle Gym and the balloon man who set up pole for every match. And of course the ice cream cart and various other vendors who lined up near the school gates. I just loved hockey matches for this. Unlimited ice creams and sweets and almost anything to keep me amused.
Me: Dad I want to go home!
Dad: Here is a fiver. Go buy yourself some ice cream.
Everyone agreed that I was the most sporting little girl around.
Now back to the game of Hockey. If I were to define Hockey, I would describe it as an enormous dust cloud! Frankly that’s all I saw of the game, besides dusty heads veering in and out creating more dust clouds in the grounds. Not that it mattered to me, but I had to come and give attendance to my dad from time to time to reassure him that I had not wandered off and it was kinda hard to spot him from the other dust covered Dads on the sidelines. It took some concerted staring to spot something familiar like a familiar shirt or pants or watch, to figure him out from the line of dusty Dads.
Me to a Dad: Are you my dad!
Dad: No! Whose kid are you?
Me: My Dad’s!
Dad: I suggest you look around baby!
Me: I did!! *sob*
Dad: Err don’t cry. How does you dad look like!
Me: He wears glasses!
Dad: Swell!
How did the dads make out their sons from among the dust colored players still beats me. Everyone looked the same! Sometimes bored of the swings and merry go rounds, I would wander in to watch the match. And then, I and the other teeny boppers played a unique game called Spot Your Sibling. This was a really difficult game and we rarely got it right! Another fiver and an ice cream set right the disappointment real fast.
After the game, the Dads sat around the outpatient lobby discussing the game, dissecting the scores and bad mouthing the referees while the sports stars got their hands and legs stitched up and black eyes attended to. Though I was not a hockey pro or a sports doctor, I sincerely felt that all that my brother and his team mates needed was the good old home remedy of... a solid arse whooping. My mother agreed. But who would listen to an eight year old? I sincerely feel that I had a bright future in sports medicine.
And yes, my brothers team never won a game, “because” of some spectacularly bad referring in favor of their highly talented, hard working and focused opponents.
Have a nice week friends!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
