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.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
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!
Monday, May 10, 2010
Games people play
“What are you listening to?” asked my colleague peeping over the cubicle partition.
Me: Uff Teri ada. Sorry, didn’t realize I was playing it loud. I will use the head phones…
Colleague: No probs...
Me: (Spotting his ear phones): And you?
Colleague (beaming proudly): Beera Beera!
Me: Oh ok...
Colleague: You don’t like it?
Me: Frankly…no.
Colleague (eyes popping out): What!!! I don’t believe this!
Me: Me neither.
Colleague: *splutter* *choke* *gasp* you must listen to it again and again Anjali and you will like it after some time.
Me: Define “some time”. A month, year, century?
Colleague (exasperatedly): You don’t understand. You got listen to ARR’s songs repeatedly till it grows on you.
Me: Err it is over a month since it was released. I think I have given it enough time to grow on me and bear flowers and fruit and caterpillars!
Colleague: *groan* Anjali …you must keep persisting!!
Me: You have a point. I dislike lauki (bottle gourd), maybe if I persist it may grow on me and bear baby laukis.
Colleague: OMG! I don’t believe this!
Me: You say one word about people with no taste for good music and I will crack your skull open.
Colleague: Heh heh…*gulp*
An hour later.
Me: Err Harish…
Colleague: Oh hi Anjali. What is it?
Me: That music you are listening to for the past one hour…
Colleague: What about it?
Me: IF YOU PLAY THAT ONE MORE TIME, I WILL CRACK YOUR EFFING SKULL!!
Colleague: *gulp* Sorry Anjali. I thought you liked Uff Teri Ada!
Me: I did! But before you played it like a gazillion times in the past hour!!
Colleague: Sorry. Err...what are you listening to now?
Me (switching on Rubayee): Beera, Beera.
Colleague: You are lying! :(
Me: I know, but I cannot have you kill this one for me dude. Sorry!
We have an arrangement now. I give him the music I am currently into, as long as he doesn’t preach to me about music he is currently-not-into-but-pretends-he-is-into.
Me: Uff Teri ada. Sorry, didn’t realize I was playing it loud. I will use the head phones…
Colleague: No probs...
Me: (Spotting his ear phones): And you?
Colleague (beaming proudly): Beera Beera!
Me: Oh ok...
Colleague: You don’t like it?
Me: Frankly…no.
Colleague (eyes popping out): What!!! I don’t believe this!
Me: Me neither.
Colleague: *splutter* *choke* *gasp* you must listen to it again and again Anjali and you will like it after some time.
Me: Define “some time”. A month, year, century?
Colleague (exasperatedly): You don’t understand. You got listen to ARR’s songs repeatedly till it grows on you.
Me: Err it is over a month since it was released. I think I have given it enough time to grow on me and bear flowers and fruit and caterpillars!
Colleague: *groan* Anjali …you must keep persisting!!
Me: You have a point. I dislike lauki (bottle gourd), maybe if I persist it may grow on me and bear baby laukis.
Colleague: OMG! I don’t believe this!
Me: You say one word about people with no taste for good music and I will crack your skull open.
Colleague: Heh heh…*gulp*
An hour later.
Me: Err Harish…
Colleague: Oh hi Anjali. What is it?
Me: That music you are listening to for the past one hour…
Colleague: What about it?
Me: IF YOU PLAY THAT ONE MORE TIME, I WILL CRACK YOUR EFFING SKULL!!
Colleague: *gulp* Sorry Anjali. I thought you liked Uff Teri Ada!
Me: I did! But before you played it like a gazillion times in the past hour!!
Colleague: Sorry. Err...what are you listening to now?
Me (switching on Rubayee): Beera, Beera.
Colleague: You are lying! :(
Me: I know, but I cannot have you kill this one for me dude. Sorry!
We have an arrangement now. I give him the music I am currently into, as long as he doesn’t preach to me about music he is currently-not-into-but-pretends-he-is-into.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Poster wars
Sight at the office on Monday: Thousands of posters stuck around the office exhorting employees to save forest by not printing emails, recipes, love letters etc.
Sight at the office on Tuesday: Thousands of posters stuck around the office exhorting employees to save forest by not printing emails recipes, love letters etc. being carried away in trash cans. Thousands of new posters stuck around the office exhorting us to save the environment by recycling, reusing blah blah.
Sight at the office on Wednesday: Thousands of posters exhorting us to save the environment by recycling, reusing blah blah being carried away in trash cans. Thousands of new posters stuck all around exhorting us to run regular security scans, back up folders, and other PC hygiene behavior. Also an award for the best maintained PC.
Sight at the office on Thursdays: The thousands of new posters exhorting us to run regular security scans, back up folders, and other PC hygiene behavior and an award for the best maintained PC being carried away in trash cans. Thousands of new posters put up exhorting us donate unused note books, used clothes, toys, sports stuff etc. using the boxes kept at the reception.
Sight at the office on Friday: The thousands of new posters exhorting us donate unused note books, used clothes, toys, sports stuff etc. using the boxes kept at the reception being carried away in trash cans. Hundreds of notices all around announcing that the big conference room is booked for an important pow-wow.
Sight at the office on Friday evening: Thousands of employees hear in wonder and glee ,the Facility Manager, HR Representative, IT Manager and CSR Manager screaming...err I mean pow wowing about removing each others posters. A few black eyes and bruises later, it is decided that posters will now be mailed to each employee as paperless e- mailers.
And *groan* guess who gets to make them!! :(
"Print paper. Save the paper industry" is my new email signature.
Sight at the office on Tuesday: Thousands of posters stuck around the office exhorting employees to save forest by not printing emails recipes, love letters etc. being carried away in trash cans. Thousands of new posters stuck around the office exhorting us to save the environment by recycling, reusing blah blah.
Sight at the office on Wednesday: Thousands of posters exhorting us to save the environment by recycling, reusing blah blah being carried away in trash cans. Thousands of new posters stuck all around exhorting us to run regular security scans, back up folders, and other PC hygiene behavior. Also an award for the best maintained PC.
Sight at the office on Thursdays: The thousands of new posters exhorting us to run regular security scans, back up folders, and other PC hygiene behavior and an award for the best maintained PC being carried away in trash cans. Thousands of new posters put up exhorting us donate unused note books, used clothes, toys, sports stuff etc. using the boxes kept at the reception.
Sight at the office on Friday: The thousands of new posters exhorting us donate unused note books, used clothes, toys, sports stuff etc. using the boxes kept at the reception being carried away in trash cans. Hundreds of notices all around announcing that the big conference room is booked for an important pow-wow.
Sight at the office on Friday evening: Thousands of employees hear in wonder and glee ,the Facility Manager, HR Representative, IT Manager and CSR Manager screaming...err I mean pow wowing about removing each others posters. A few black eyes and bruises later, it is decided that posters will now be mailed to each employee as paperless e- mailers.
And *groan* guess who gets to make them!! :(
"Print paper. Save the paper industry" is my new email signature.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Intern-al revenues
The pantry near my workstation has all sorts of posters stuck with messages ranging from saving water, environment to corny poetry, sad jokes, tragic attempts at creative writing and company results. Today, we had a poster put up by the HR folks, that announced that we had done some billion or million in revenues last year. The poster was obviously prepared by some dimwit, as it had given the revenue figures in zeroes, instead of representing it like for e.g. $ 50 Million or Billion, which would be the approach us, smart, intelligent, bright and beautiful communication people would have done. But then hey, everyone cannot be smart, intelligent, bright and beautiful right?
Today morning when I walked into the pantry for my regular morning fix of tea, gossip, slander, character assassinations and smear campaigns, I saw two Interns (girls) looking intently at the poster announcing our revenues. There was no one else at the pantry. Their conversation went something like this.
First Intern (FI): Ooh look! We have made solid profits last year.
Second Intern (SI): Oooh yes!!! Nice na!
FI: I think it is $ XYZ Million
SI: Or it could be a Billion.
FI: Do you think so? Billion is a very large figure na!
SI: But we are one of the largest companies in the world no!
FI: Let me count the zeroes. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...
SI: I think you left out one zero.
FI: Really? Which one?
SI (pointing out): This one.
FI: Achcha, let me start again. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 oops I think I counted one zero twice.
SI: Wait, we will separate zeroes with a pen. Here you take one...
FI (holding a pen after three zeroes): You keep your pen after the three zeroes after the pen.
SI: Okay!
FI: Got it. Now let’s Google and see whether it is a Million or a Billion.
Me: It is a Billion.
Both: Oh! Thank you!
Me: You are welcome.
Both (looking at each other excitedly): Ooooh! Kitna cool hai na!!!
Me (under my breath): There seems to be a sharp dip in our Intern-al revenues though.
SI: Did you say something?
Me: Oh nothing. Nothing you need to be concerned about. Bye.
God help their Manager. May God give him strength, fortitude and lots of patience this year!
Today morning when I walked into the pantry for my regular morning fix of tea, gossip, slander, character assassinations and smear campaigns, I saw two Interns (girls) looking intently at the poster announcing our revenues. There was no one else at the pantry. Their conversation went something like this.
First Intern (FI): Ooh look! We have made solid profits last year.
Second Intern (SI): Oooh yes!!! Nice na!
FI: I think it is $ XYZ Million
SI: Or it could be a Billion.
FI: Do you think so? Billion is a very large figure na!
SI: But we are one of the largest companies in the world no!
FI: Let me count the zeroes. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...
SI: I think you left out one zero.
FI: Really? Which one?
SI (pointing out): This one.
FI: Achcha, let me start again. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 oops I think I counted one zero twice.
SI: Wait, we will separate zeroes with a pen. Here you take one...
FI (holding a pen after three zeroes): You keep your pen after the three zeroes after the pen.
SI: Okay!
FI: Got it. Now let’s Google and see whether it is a Million or a Billion.
Me: It is a Billion.
Both: Oh! Thank you!
Me: You are welcome.
Both (looking at each other excitedly): Ooooh! Kitna cool hai na!!!
Me (under my breath): There seems to be a sharp dip in our Intern-al revenues though.
SI: Did you say something?
Me: Oh nothing. Nothing you need to be concerned about. Bye.
God help their Manager. May God give him strength, fortitude and lots of patience this year!
Monday, April 12, 2010
Verbal Diarrhoea
Our European Communications Head is a formidable Englishwoman called Mary (not real name). Impeccable English, stiff upper lip and aristocratic family to boot, the only Indian she likes is me. In fact the only non English person she likes in this whole world is me.
Whenever she calls for a conference call, the agenda and timing will be crisply laid out in the email and she doesn’t tolerate anyone joining the call late. If someone is late she just reschedules the call, after a few impeccably tailored barbs at the late comers that have made many a late joiner attempt suicide in sheer humiliation.
Into this picture comes Avarachan (not his real name), a sales executive, who was scheduled to join me and Mary in the call to discuss some global collateral his boss wanted made. Just before the call, Avarachan developed diarrhea and had to rush to the toilet. Mary started the call and decided to continue when I messaged her over instant messenger (IM) about Avarachan's plight. Mary may be a stickler to schedules but she is a kind person who understands such “emergencies”.
Minutes later Avarachan joined the call panting as he had come running all the way from the toilet. He decided to apologize to Mary over IM.
Avarachan: Good afternoon Madam, I am sorry for joining in the call so late.
Mary: No problem John.
Avarachan: Thank you Madam. I ate something that did not agree with me.
Mary: Ok! Let me conduct the call now.
Avarachan: I think it was the mutton. It was a bit off.
Mary: *Ignores him*
Avarachan: Have you ever had Mutton Biryani?
Very nice at Andhra Palace near our office.
It could have been the Paneer too though.
Or the heat.
Yes, it must be the heat that gave me indigestion!!!!
I have a delicate stomach like you English people heh heh
Mary: John, please join in the call.
Avarachan: I am in the call only. Anjali will speak on my behalf.
The raita was also stinking. Must be bad curds. But bad curds don’t give you stomach upset no? What do you think?
Mary: No idea! I....
Avarachan: ...do you British people eat curds? We call it moru in Malayalam and Dahi in Hindi.
Mary: I am sorry; I do not have time to chat.
Avarachan: No problem, you keep talking!
Mary: !!!!!!
Avarachan: You married? How many kids?
I have three. All boys. Naughty fellows heh heh
Elder fellow is just like me. He gets stomach upset very quickly! When we went to Malayatoor last year, he was having full stomach upset after eating some Ice Cream!
Mary: Bleddy hell!
Avarachan: So what does your husband do? My wife is housewife only.
If you come to India, I take you to Hyderabad Delight. You must taste the Biryani there.
Mary: *groan*
Avarachan: Don’t worry; I will see to that you don’t get stomach upset. I know all the good restaurants here.
Mary: Anjali could you please tell John to stop messaging me!
Avarachan: Btw you know any good home remedies for stomach upset? I think I need to go to the toilet again! These allopathic medicines are so...
Mary: *SLAM!!!!*
According to Mary’s colleagues who sit next to her, she was seen rushing to the toilet to throw up. The call was rescheduled and Avarachan attended it in time this time.
People in the office are not convinced though. They are sure that like every cunning mallu, Avarachan deliberately got it postponed so he can join in time, the second time around. No one knows for sure, but Avarachan is keen to chat with her again. I told him that British people do not like to chat. Avarachan was disappointed but has decided to honor the ‘custom’.
When Mary heard this news from me, her colleagues report that this normally taciturn lady jumped up in the air, let out a whoop and danced around the office in sheer joy shouting "hurrah!!'.
Whenever she calls for a conference call, the agenda and timing will be crisply laid out in the email and she doesn’t tolerate anyone joining the call late. If someone is late she just reschedules the call, after a few impeccably tailored barbs at the late comers that have made many a late joiner attempt suicide in sheer humiliation.
Into this picture comes Avarachan (not his real name), a sales executive, who was scheduled to join me and Mary in the call to discuss some global collateral his boss wanted made. Just before the call, Avarachan developed diarrhea and had to rush to the toilet. Mary started the call and decided to continue when I messaged her over instant messenger (IM) about Avarachan's plight. Mary may be a stickler to schedules but she is a kind person who understands such “emergencies”.
Minutes later Avarachan joined the call panting as he had come running all the way from the toilet. He decided to apologize to Mary over IM.
Avarachan: Good afternoon Madam, I am sorry for joining in the call so late.
Mary: No problem John.
Avarachan: Thank you Madam. I ate something that did not agree with me.
Mary: Ok! Let me conduct the call now.
Avarachan: I think it was the mutton. It was a bit off.
Mary: *Ignores him*
Avarachan: Have you ever had Mutton Biryani?
Very nice at Andhra Palace near our office.
It could have been the Paneer too though.
Or the heat.
Yes, it must be the heat that gave me indigestion!!!!
I have a delicate stomach like you English people heh heh
Mary: John, please join in the call.
Avarachan: I am in the call only. Anjali will speak on my behalf.
The raita was also stinking. Must be bad curds. But bad curds don’t give you stomach upset no? What do you think?
Mary: No idea! I....
Avarachan: ...do you British people eat curds? We call it moru in Malayalam and Dahi in Hindi.
Mary: I am sorry; I do not have time to chat.
Avarachan: No problem, you keep talking!
Mary: !!!!!!
Avarachan: You married? How many kids?
I have three. All boys. Naughty fellows heh heh
Elder fellow is just like me. He gets stomach upset very quickly! When we went to Malayatoor last year, he was having full stomach upset after eating some Ice Cream!
Mary: Bleddy hell!
Avarachan: So what does your husband do? My wife is housewife only.
If you come to India, I take you to Hyderabad Delight. You must taste the Biryani there.
Mary: *groan*
Avarachan: Don’t worry; I will see to that you don’t get stomach upset. I know all the good restaurants here.
Mary: Anjali could you please tell John to stop messaging me!
Avarachan: Btw you know any good home remedies for stomach upset? I think I need to go to the toilet again! These allopathic medicines are so...
Mary: *SLAM!!!!*
According to Mary’s colleagues who sit next to her, she was seen rushing to the toilet to throw up. The call was rescheduled and Avarachan attended it in time this time.
People in the office are not convinced though. They are sure that like every cunning mallu, Avarachan deliberately got it postponed so he can join in time, the second time around. No one knows for sure, but Avarachan is keen to chat with her again. I told him that British people do not like to chat. Avarachan was disappointed but has decided to honor the ‘custom’.
When Mary heard this news from me, her colleagues report that this normally taciturn lady jumped up in the air, let out a whoop and danced around the office in sheer joy shouting "hurrah!!'.
Monday, April 05, 2010
Polite dissent
Have you heard those good natured jibes that men make about women? About the oh-so -funny little peculiarities of women like the penchant for matching clothes with accessories, wrapping presents instead of giving it in the plastic bag it came in bill intact, or the hilarious attention women pay to trivial details like slowing down at the amber light instead of revving up and speeding before it turned red etc. etc?
I have always scoffed at these jokes and regarded them as mere platforms men use to underline their manliness. And an incident (amongst others of course) proved that my theory was correct.
Serene Thomas, a colleague and very good friend got married a year ago after she and her husband Polite Antony had done the routine song and dance routine around electric poles and sang songs near the flower pots (trees and gardens too far away), before deciding that they were in love and should stop acting silly and get married. Serene is now consulting a divorce lawyer.
Alarmed at the news I called her up and asked her for the reasons for taking this drastic step. Over muffled sobs, she told me her sad and heart wrenching story. The story was told over 8 hours. I have condensed it for your reading leisure and due to the fact that she has threatened to kill me if I did not make this story spectacular. Yes, she reads this blog.
So let me start at the very beginning, i.e. the first week of marriage after the honeymoon, (where they did the song and dance routine in a real garden, around real trees and flower bushes) in their new apartment and progress towards the end of the year chronologically.
She: Which of these curtain swatches you like?
He: Anything “you” like munchkins. I will be happy even if you draped the doors and curtains in sack cloth.
She (beaming): Okay!
Later
He: The house looks like a magician’s tent with these err ‘colorful’ curtains!
She: *maintains a dignified silence*
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She: Do you think this wicker furniture would look good in our living room?
He: Everything looks good with you around pumpkin. You decide and take what you like.
She: Okay!
Later
He: Sweet Jesus! The living room looks like a dentist’s clinic!!
She: *maintains a dignified silence*
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She: Where have you decided to go today. Dev’s anniversary or Mohits?
He: Wherever you are comfortable going darling. I do not want you to get bored of the company, so you choose.
She: Okay!
Later
He: Why are we going to Mohit's place?
She: We went for Dev’s sons naming ceremony last week, so I thought we will give Mohit and Sudha a visit.
He: You know that Dev is my best friend! He called me twice and told me to come to his place tonight.
She: * struggles to maintain a dignified silence*
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She: Should I wear this Salwar or this Saree for the office party?
He: Anything my moonshine. You look lovely without err I mean you look lovely in anything!!
She: hmmm okay!
Later
He: I am NOT going out with you if you dress like that!!!
She: I am wearing a Salwar!!
He: Yes, but does it have to look like ‘that’!!
She (under her breath): * $#%@&!*
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She: What would you like to have for lunch?
He: Surprise me honey-bunch!
She: *maintains a dignified silence*
Later
He: Chicken kuruma? * ugh*!
She: *dumps chicken kurma on his head, followed by the pulao and the payasam and water to wash it all down*
The guys in the office have decided to give him a Vishist Pati Medal. The girls in the office have decided to donate money to a) pay for her lawyer’s bill and or b) hire some thugs to break his legs.
I have always scoffed at these jokes and regarded them as mere platforms men use to underline their manliness. And an incident (amongst others of course) proved that my theory was correct.
Serene Thomas, a colleague and very good friend got married a year ago after she and her husband Polite Antony had done the routine song and dance routine around electric poles and sang songs near the flower pots (trees and gardens too far away), before deciding that they were in love and should stop acting silly and get married. Serene is now consulting a divorce lawyer.
Alarmed at the news I called her up and asked her for the reasons for taking this drastic step. Over muffled sobs, she told me her sad and heart wrenching story. The story was told over 8 hours. I have condensed it for your reading leisure and due to the fact that she has threatened to kill me if I did not make this story spectacular. Yes, she reads this blog.
So let me start at the very beginning, i.e. the first week of marriage after the honeymoon, (where they did the song and dance routine in a real garden, around real trees and flower bushes) in their new apartment and progress towards the end of the year chronologically.
She: Which of these curtain swatches you like?
He: Anything “you” like munchkins. I will be happy even if you draped the doors and curtains in sack cloth.
She (beaming): Okay!
Later
He: The house looks like a magician’s tent with these err ‘colorful’ curtains!
She: *maintains a dignified silence*
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She: Do you think this wicker furniture would look good in our living room?
He: Everything looks good with you around pumpkin. You decide and take what you like.
She: Okay!
Later
He: Sweet Jesus! The living room looks like a dentist’s clinic!!
She: *maintains a dignified silence*
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She: Where have you decided to go today. Dev’s anniversary or Mohits?
He: Wherever you are comfortable going darling. I do not want you to get bored of the company, so you choose.
She: Okay!
Later
He: Why are we going to Mohit's place?
She: We went for Dev’s sons naming ceremony last week, so I thought we will give Mohit and Sudha a visit.
He: You know that Dev is my best friend! He called me twice and told me to come to his place tonight.
She: * struggles to maintain a dignified silence*
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She: Should I wear this Salwar or this Saree for the office party?
He: Anything my moonshine. You look lovely without err I mean you look lovely in anything!!
She: hmmm okay!
Later
He: I am NOT going out with you if you dress like that!!!
She: I am wearing a Salwar!!
He: Yes, but does it have to look like ‘that’!!
She (under her breath): * $#%@&!*
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She: What would you like to have for lunch?
He: Surprise me honey-bunch!
She: *maintains a dignified silence*
Later
He: Chicken kuruma? * ugh*!
She: *dumps chicken kurma on his head, followed by the pulao and the payasam and water to wash it all down*
The guys in the office have decided to give him a Vishist Pati Medal. The girls in the office have decided to donate money to a) pay for her lawyer’s bill and or b) hire some thugs to break his legs.
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Drunk in the spirit
It is Maundy Thursday. The day the bar in my house gets locked and sealed and an alcohol ban imposed till Sunday and the three men in the family put through regular breath analyzer tests by my mom.
Mom: Open you mouth and breathe out.
Bro (breathing in): There!
Mom: I did not get any smell!
Bro: That’s because I didn’t drink.
Mom: hmmm this is weird, you were stinking of alcohol when you came in.
Bro (with fake indignation): That is the devil's work I tell you. He wants to sow seeds of doubt in you, which will make me angry, go off religion and start drinking on Good Friday.
Mom (walking away with doubtful look): Hmmmm
Eldest bro: Now that you have given away a perfectly good excuse to drink, you have exactly one day to think of something else to have a drink this Friday.
Bro (facepalm): Tch!!!!
Dad: ROFL!!!!
Good Friday is the most painful and sad day for some people (mostly men) in my very 'religiously drinking' err religious family and these people actually suffer tremendous 'spiritual' agony on this day.
Wishing you all a very Happy Easter in advance. :)
Mom: Open you mouth and breathe out.
Bro (breathing in): There!
Mom: I did not get any smell!
Bro: That’s because I didn’t drink.
Mom: hmmm this is weird, you were stinking of alcohol when you came in.
Bro (with fake indignation): That is the devil's work I tell you. He wants to sow seeds of doubt in you, which will make me angry, go off religion and start drinking on Good Friday.
Mom (walking away with doubtful look): Hmmmm
Eldest bro: Now that you have given away a perfectly good excuse to drink, you have exactly one day to think of something else to have a drink this Friday.
Bro (facepalm): Tch!!!!
Dad: ROFL!!!!
Good Friday is the most painful and sad day for some people (mostly men) in my very 'religiously drinking' err religious family and these people actually suffer tremendous 'spiritual' agony on this day.
Wishing you all a very Happy Easter in advance. :)
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Meeting your match - a 'seedy' tale of two duds.
Purab, my nice colleague was looking very disturbed. Now and then other guy colleagues came and offered words of encouragement and pats of camaraderie. I was instantly interested. I smelt a nice juicy story. Putting on my best fake “concerned expression” I walked over to another guy colleague….let’s call him “Pansy Prabhu”. Or PP as we gals lovingly call him. PP always gives us the dirt. And PP did not disappoint us this time too.
PP told me a rather sad tale of betrayal and double ‘facedness' and treachery of people that nearly broke my heart. Here is Purab’s sad story as told by PP.
Purab is living like most bachelors on the first floor of a house owned by an old thaatha (grandpa) and thaathi (grandma). Thaatha is immobile while thaathi is a sprightly 80. When Purab went house hunting, he faced the same problems bachelors everywhere faced. Landlords refusing to give the house unless he was married or staying with parents etc. With great difficulty he convinced thaathi to give him the house.
Thaathi I may be a North Indian Brahmin, but I am a Brahmin like you!
So?
So, I don’t eat meat, or drink or womanize.
Which means you were born of Immaculate Conception yeah???
Err no, I mean I will strictly womanize with my future wife wonly thaathi.
Okay, okay! You can move in tomorrow. You know the rules right?
*Pumping his fists inside* Of course thaathi!!!
Purab settled in with a sigh of relief. He would leave for office everyday and thaathi would open the door for the maid to cook and clean and lock up after the maid left. On his part, Purab shared any nice movie he got with thaathi and did the odd shopping for her. Life was smooth, happy and full of empty bottles and chicken bones taken surreptitiously out of the room in the nights.
One day a friend, let’s call him “Satish” called with exciting news. He had a “CD” he said. A rare CD that he had got for one night only. A CD so rare that he dared not leave it at his home where his folks might discover and make it even rarer. Purab decided that the CD would be safe in his house and Satish left it on his refrigerator. Then both left for office with a shady smile on their faces. Around 11 ‘o’ clock, people in the office saw Purab rushing out of the office. He had just realized that the maid would come and thaathi would open the door and perhaps discover the CD.
Horrible images of being bodily thrown out of the house rushed before him as he tore through the roads towards home. He reached home and flew up the stairs like the wind and saw to his relief that the CD was on the fridge. He quickly locked it in his cupboard, drank a glass of water, thanked all the Gods in the Hindu pantheon and came back to office.
In the night, booze bottles adorned his room as the pals toasted to the “acquisition’. After a few drinks they put on the CD…and watched open mouthed as the mellifluous sound of bansuri (flute) filled the house. Then Krishna Kanhaiyya appeared on the screen and played a melodious solo. The pals rubbed their eyes. Then Radha started singing a devotional song so sweet that rumors has it that the alcohol in the bottles evaporated leaving behind pure amrit. Purab looked at Satish. Satish looked at Purab. Then they both looked at the TV screen and turned pale when Meera began a rather long but soulful bhajan. To cut a very long story short, Satish was thrown violently out of the house.
Next day Satish called Purab. The CD belonged to a guy who was six feet tall and kinda muscular. Six footer had his feet on Satish’s face and was getting kinda impatient. Purab was now convinced that there indeed was a CD and decided to interrogate his maid. He needn’t have. She told him calmly that thaathi had taken the CD as usual and returned it after seeing the “movie”. Purab gulped and turned white. Visions of being kicked out of the house crowded his mind. He did not see Satish walking into thaathi’s house to ask for the CD. He was back shortly. Apparently thaathi insisted that “Krishna Kanhaiyya” was the movie she had borrowed and “returned” and she wanted to know which “other” CD Satish was talking about. Satish said he was talking about Krishna Kanhaiya only and beat a hasty retreat.
The boys now look at thaathi with a new respect but with averted eyes and give her the wide berth...with averted eyes
p.s. did I say the sad tale of betrayal and double ‘facedness' and treachery of people nearly broke my heart? Sorry that should read - the sad tale of betrayal and double ‘facedness' and treachery of people nearly broke my jaws due to excessive laughter. Have a nice week folks!
PP told me a rather sad tale of betrayal and double ‘facedness' and treachery of people that nearly broke my heart. Here is Purab’s sad story as told by PP.
Purab is living like most bachelors on the first floor of a house owned by an old thaatha (grandpa) and thaathi (grandma). Thaatha is immobile while thaathi is a sprightly 80. When Purab went house hunting, he faced the same problems bachelors everywhere faced. Landlords refusing to give the house unless he was married or staying with parents etc. With great difficulty he convinced thaathi to give him the house.
Thaathi I may be a North Indian Brahmin, but I am a Brahmin like you!
So?
So, I don’t eat meat, or drink or womanize.
Which means you were born of Immaculate Conception yeah???
Err no, I mean I will strictly womanize with my future wife wonly thaathi.
Okay, okay! You can move in tomorrow. You know the rules right?
*Pumping his fists inside* Of course thaathi!!!
Purab settled in with a sigh of relief. He would leave for office everyday and thaathi would open the door for the maid to cook and clean and lock up after the maid left. On his part, Purab shared any nice movie he got with thaathi and did the odd shopping for her. Life was smooth, happy and full of empty bottles and chicken bones taken surreptitiously out of the room in the nights.
One day a friend, let’s call him “Satish” called with exciting news. He had a “CD” he said. A rare CD that he had got for one night only. A CD so rare that he dared not leave it at his home where his folks might discover and make it even rarer. Purab decided that the CD would be safe in his house and Satish left it on his refrigerator. Then both left for office with a shady smile on their faces. Around 11 ‘o’ clock, people in the office saw Purab rushing out of the office. He had just realized that the maid would come and thaathi would open the door and perhaps discover the CD.
Horrible images of being bodily thrown out of the house rushed before him as he tore through the roads towards home. He reached home and flew up the stairs like the wind and saw to his relief that the CD was on the fridge. He quickly locked it in his cupboard, drank a glass of water, thanked all the Gods in the Hindu pantheon and came back to office.
In the night, booze bottles adorned his room as the pals toasted to the “acquisition’. After a few drinks they put on the CD…and watched open mouthed as the mellifluous sound of bansuri (flute) filled the house. Then Krishna Kanhaiyya appeared on the screen and played a melodious solo. The pals rubbed their eyes. Then Radha started singing a devotional song so sweet that rumors has it that the alcohol in the bottles evaporated leaving behind pure amrit. Purab looked at Satish. Satish looked at Purab. Then they both looked at the TV screen and turned pale when Meera began a rather long but soulful bhajan. To cut a very long story short, Satish was thrown violently out of the house.
Next day Satish called Purab. The CD belonged to a guy who was six feet tall and kinda muscular. Six footer had his feet on Satish’s face and was getting kinda impatient. Purab was now convinced that there indeed was a CD and decided to interrogate his maid. He needn’t have. She told him calmly that thaathi had taken the CD as usual and returned it after seeing the “movie”. Purab gulped and turned white. Visions of being kicked out of the house crowded his mind. He did not see Satish walking into thaathi’s house to ask for the CD. He was back shortly. Apparently thaathi insisted that “Krishna Kanhaiyya” was the movie she had borrowed and “returned” and she wanted to know which “other” CD Satish was talking about. Satish said he was talking about Krishna Kanhaiya only and beat a hasty retreat.
The boys now look at thaathi with a new respect but with averted eyes and give her the wide berth...with averted eyes
p.s. did I say the sad tale of betrayal and double ‘facedness' and treachery of people nearly broke my heart? Sorry that should read - the sad tale of betrayal and double ‘facedness' and treachery of people nearly broke my jaws due to excessive laughter. Have a nice week folks!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
