When uninspired, recycle from old blog and pretend it is for a good cause -viz. preservation of valuable literature for posterity. Hell. Its MY blog. I shall call it PRICELESS literature if i want to. Hmpf!(This is from Dec 05).
Do you have what it takes to be rich and famous? Go ahead and take this quiz to judge whether you are a member of the Association de la Loaded
Tick the answer you feel is closest to your heart
1. A long weekend coming up, you…
a. Travel to Turkey with your husband for a romantic weekend getaway
b. You wish you had money to send your husband to Turkey so that he could be out of your hair for the weekend
c. Turkey. Delicious. Definitely better than chicken!
2. You really need to look good for an office party. You take care of your skin by …
a. La Prairie Skin caviar is the only thing you would apply on your skin. But it’s a problem obtaining it locally! There are only five packs sold in the country at any given point of time. Oh, the cost? You don’t really remember, about a lakh, but a complete steal for the price.
b. You had saved for a year and buy a face cream for Rs.25, 000 but not for an office party – what the use, the COO wont be there to see you and anyways much better to just occasionally take it out and look at the pack.
c. How do you take care of your skin? Huh? Wash it what else?
3. You have a meeting at a prospective new clients office. You…
a. Chose the Louis Vuitton bag that matches the mood of the day. You must look upbeat when you meet new clients, so the tan bag you picked up in Paris should be good.
b. You have Hidedesign bags which you thought were quite hep, but had to hide them under the table when you saw A
c. Who the heck is Louis Vuitton? Always thought he was a gay rights activist. Bag? Well, one got wet in the rains and the other got stolen. So you really don’t have a choice do you?
4. Time is of crucial importance and you keep track of it by …
a. Your faithful Rado watch because its scratchproof and quite functional
b. You tell your friends that you were planning to buy Tommy Hillfiger watches but didn’t because he is racist.
c. Rado killed the video star
5. The coming Saturday you plan to go rustic. You….
a. Go that that quaint retro store in Jakarta where you had picked up that completely darling antique Fossil.
b. Lifestyle darling! All those suburbanites shop there nowadays.
c. Linking road zindabad.
Your score.
Mostly (a):
You are right up there in la-di-dah land. You have so much money you don’t know what to do with it. And well, if you are male, will you marry me? Yes, you are quite obnoxious I am sure, but I really, really want to quit working.
Mostly (b):
Well, who knows about the money, but you sure have the pretentiousness all sewed up darlings!
Mostly (c):
Ah…!
Postscript.
(All you uneducated plebeians, a Louis Vuitton basic functional key chain is about eight grand.)
This post was brought on by a surfeit of type (a) and (b) people in life right now. HELP!!!
Showing posts with label Working Woes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Working Woes. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
The Peter Principle
In Mumbai this time round, I was rummaging through my dad's old books and came across two interesting ones - the "Peter Principe" and the "Peter Prescription" - both which I have been floating on the periphery of my to-read list for years now.
This time I picked up the former and am half way through it. Incidentally, I learnt from wiki, that it’s a fairly well known (which I was only vaguely aware of) and that that iconic pop culture like Dilbert and Office space has been inspired to some extent ( which I surmised).
It's a wonderfully tongue in cheek, satirical representation of office hierarchy – a book on hierarchiology. The underlying philosophy is straightforward – people in organizations rise up their level of incompetence. If you look at the corporate world through that lens, suddenly many bewildering things start to fall in place. Viz. policies which seem to favour mediocrity and stifle initiative or a top management which is singularly talentless and uninspiring, or the strange phenomena of working to please the boss, rather than the client, and many such others.
On a more personal note, what intrigued me was the timing. This was my father’s book and there is his signature and date scrawled in the first page – 1974, he must have picked this up as a bachelor in the UK where he spent half a dozen years before marriage. He would have been a couple of years older than I am right now, and it would be fair to assume ( since he has both the books) that some of the dilemmas I face more than thirty years down the line are ones which he did as well. That inspite of being from different generations, radically different career paths, different countries, different socio-economic generations that he, as I am, after 8-12 years of working, also apparently grappled with the same kind of questions I do.
I always wondered about that, whether this mid-life professional crisis where you start seriously retrospecting on decisions and recalibrating the importance of a career vis-a-vis other aspects of life – is a phenomena restricted to our generation. A generation which has had so many opportunities, that it is spoilt for choice – unlike our parents generations (seventies and eighties – could it even be called a career?) who had to get a job hold on for dear life till retirement. So was introspection even an option? Apparently yes.
It’s weirdly comforting this sense of continuity – the fact that my father was going through some of the professional angst which I face now, and yet went on to carve out a name for him. It gives me hope, that in spite of all reservations, in-spite of self doubts and insecurities, I might do so too.
P.S. Also quarter way through another book “And then we came to the end” by Joshua Ferris – corporate chaos circa 2007ish – much recommended basis what I have read so far. Also “e” by Matt Beaumont. Interesting side bar is both of these books are based in advertising agencies. There is something about agencies which bring out the cynicism in people I think. Or maybe people in advertising come to a realistic assessment of their/job’s worth( or lack of it)sooner than their corporate counterparts?
P.P.S Had written this post sometime back, never posted it. Seem to be having a rather dry spell just at the moment – so upsydaisy to drafts-old –ignored posts
This time I picked up the former and am half way through it. Incidentally, I learnt from wiki, that it’s a fairly well known (which I was only vaguely aware of) and that that iconic pop culture like Dilbert and Office space has been inspired to some extent ( which I surmised).
It's a wonderfully tongue in cheek, satirical representation of office hierarchy – a book on hierarchiology. The underlying philosophy is straightforward – people in organizations rise up their level of incompetence. If you look at the corporate world through that lens, suddenly many bewildering things start to fall in place. Viz. policies which seem to favour mediocrity and stifle initiative or a top management which is singularly talentless and uninspiring, or the strange phenomena of working to please the boss, rather than the client, and many such others.
On a more personal note, what intrigued me was the timing. This was my father’s book and there is his signature and date scrawled in the first page – 1974, he must have picked this up as a bachelor in the UK where he spent half a dozen years before marriage. He would have been a couple of years older than I am right now, and it would be fair to assume ( since he has both the books) that some of the dilemmas I face more than thirty years down the line are ones which he did as well. That inspite of being from different generations, radically different career paths, different countries, different socio-economic generations that he, as I am, after 8-12 years of working, also apparently grappled with the same kind of questions I do.
I always wondered about that, whether this mid-life professional crisis where you start seriously retrospecting on decisions and recalibrating the importance of a career vis-a-vis other aspects of life – is a phenomena restricted to our generation. A generation which has had so many opportunities, that it is spoilt for choice – unlike our parents generations (seventies and eighties – could it even be called a career?) who had to get a job hold on for dear life till retirement. So was introspection even an option? Apparently yes.
It’s weirdly comforting this sense of continuity – the fact that my father was going through some of the professional angst which I face now, and yet went on to carve out a name for him. It gives me hope, that in spite of all reservations, in-spite of self doubts and insecurities, I might do so too.
P.S. Also quarter way through another book “And then we came to the end” by Joshua Ferris – corporate chaos circa 2007ish – much recommended basis what I have read so far. Also “e” by Matt Beaumont. Interesting side bar is both of these books are based in advertising agencies. There is something about agencies which bring out the cynicism in people I think. Or maybe people in advertising come to a realistic assessment of their/job’s worth( or lack of it)sooner than their corporate counterparts?
P.P.S Had written this post sometime back, never posted it. Seem to be having a rather dry spell just at the moment – so upsydaisy to drafts-old –ignored posts
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Designing the Designation
So I am in manically active job hunt mode right now.
I am pretty much always on the verge of quitting – but there is usually a continuum of urgency in the job search mode.
There is what I call the passively looking mode which pretty much starts on the second day of a new job – where the resume is updated and lovingly polished, where the head hunters are called and you do some whining ( and dining), and when you generally let the world know that you are quite available in the market.
The active job hunt starts immediately after the first contretemps at the work place – could be week two, or if you are lucky, a few months. That’s when you start actively wtf-ing the place and the people, and calling up placement agencies often enough to recognize the security fellow’s voices.
And there is the manic active job mode. Where you more or less lose all sense of perspective (also discretion) and distribute your resumes out in a manner which can only be described as cavalier (or if you want to be crasser – whoring). You give resumes to neighbours and their dogs, you give them, you distribute it to the milkman, your emails carry your entire CV instead of the signature and by this time the placement agents are cowering under their desks, you know the www.naukri.com listings by heart and you even contemplate all sites which promise fortunes sitting ‘in the comfort of your own home filling online forms at five rupees a form. (As you can see, a fair amount of time has been spent on this phase)
One of the things one DOES in the course of this manic hunt mode is frequent sites like Linkedin.com. This is what I have been doing as well. Of all social media thingummies - I think I find LinkedIn the most fascinating (and also the most useful. Colleagues remain that. Colleagues. They don’t throw online shoes or whatever it is they are throwing these days or poke you or pop up on the chat to chirpily ask “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii wat r u doing?. Okay rant over.)
Anyways, besides looking for jobs there, one also looks at the job titles and profiles of a number of people. Yes, I know it’s fairly common practise to pad your resume – but some of it is embellished so much, that its pure, unadulterated fiction.
There is this girl, with a year’s ex or so who has just joined my team. She sent me an invite recently. Her job title reads something like Market Intelligence Analyst. She er, reports into me, so I do happen to know exactly what she does. Viz. Market study of the cafeteria. Analyzes the contents of chick-literature and Archies. AND intelligently flirts with my boss every time he is within a five mile radius.To his credit, he sees through this little playacting, and will watch these attempts with a very sardonic gleam in his eyes. (One of these days I shall give into the temptation of making fun of him and will get sacked for my pains. But he more or less sacks me three times a week so it’s okay. I do need to stop cheeking the boss come to think of it. If I do get another job, it might not be the best policy hmmm). Anyways, I digress, I do happen to know that this female's designation is Executive -Marketing or something to that effect.
Then someone else, who is taking classes in a coaching centre – has a title called independent education architect. Somehow, when someone says education architect, the picture that comes to mind is that of a VC of a university, who is formulating policies for the country’s education system.
I suppose I can’t blame my friend the Market Intelligence Analyst. My company has about 23 Vice Presidents, 12 Presidents, CTO, CIO, CXO; (I am sure one day they will have CA-ZO’s: Chief Admin Off, Chief Bullshit Officer, Chief Copying Officer....Chief Hospitality Officer – we already have a Head of hospitality and travel – the most clueless chick in existence who always books the tickets on the wrong days) .There are VPS and MD’ and Heads and all combinations of the above – and believe me trying to figure out which one takes precedence is a diplomatic minefield - every time I have to mark mails to half a dozen of these fellows, I go and ask HR for the pecking order so that I don’t inadvertently trample on some sensitive egos. Mind you, 3/4th of these have no tails or body. So we have loads of strategic talks and ideation and other very high-falutin things, but absolutely no implementation.
I think I need to change my designation as well. Cynic, Chief Writing Officer and Chief Moderating Officer, Wonderland. How’s that for a start?
This post was written sometime back, and I had completely forgotten about its existence – was just reading the Peter Principle ( I have a half written post on that), when I recalled this.
I am pretty much always on the verge of quitting – but there is usually a continuum of urgency in the job search mode.
There is what I call the passively looking mode which pretty much starts on the second day of a new job – where the resume is updated and lovingly polished, where the head hunters are called and you do some whining ( and dining), and when you generally let the world know that you are quite available in the market.
The active job hunt starts immediately after the first contretemps at the work place – could be week two, or if you are lucky, a few months. That’s when you start actively wtf-ing the place and the people, and calling up placement agencies often enough to recognize the security fellow’s voices.
And there is the manic active job mode. Where you more or less lose all sense of perspective (also discretion) and distribute your resumes out in a manner which can only be described as cavalier (or if you want to be crasser – whoring). You give resumes to neighbours and their dogs, you give them, you distribute it to the milkman, your emails carry your entire CV instead of the signature and by this time the placement agents are cowering under their desks, you know the www.naukri.com listings by heart and you even contemplate all sites which promise fortunes sitting ‘in the comfort of your own home filling online forms at five rupees a form. (As you can see, a fair amount of time has been spent on this phase)
One of the things one DOES in the course of this manic hunt mode is frequent sites like Linkedin.com. This is what I have been doing as well. Of all social media thingummies - I think I find LinkedIn the most fascinating (and also the most useful. Colleagues remain that. Colleagues. They don’t throw online shoes or whatever it is they are throwing these days or poke you or pop up on the chat to chirpily ask “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii wat r u doing?. Okay rant over.)
Anyways, besides looking for jobs there, one also looks at the job titles and profiles of a number of people. Yes, I know it’s fairly common practise to pad your resume – but some of it is embellished so much, that its pure, unadulterated fiction.
There is this girl, with a year’s ex or so who has just joined my team. She sent me an invite recently. Her job title reads something like Market Intelligence Analyst. She er, reports into me, so I do happen to know exactly what she does. Viz. Market study of the cafeteria. Analyzes the contents of chick-literature and Archies. AND intelligently flirts with my boss every time he is within a five mile radius.To his credit, he sees through this little playacting, and will watch these attempts with a very sardonic gleam in his eyes. (One of these days I shall give into the temptation of making fun of him and will get sacked for my pains. But he more or less sacks me three times a week so it’s okay. I do need to stop cheeking the boss come to think of it. If I do get another job, it might not be the best policy hmmm). Anyways, I digress, I do happen to know that this female's designation is Executive -Marketing or something to that effect.
Then someone else, who is taking classes in a coaching centre – has a title called independent education architect. Somehow, when someone says education architect, the picture that comes to mind is that of a VC of a university, who is formulating policies for the country’s education system.
I suppose I can’t blame my friend the Market Intelligence Analyst. My company has about 23 Vice Presidents, 12 Presidents, CTO, CIO, CXO; (I am sure one day they will have CA-ZO’s: Chief Admin Off, Chief Bullshit Officer, Chief Copying Officer....Chief Hospitality Officer – we already have a Head of hospitality and travel – the most clueless chick in existence who always books the tickets on the wrong days) .There are VPS and MD’ and Heads and all combinations of the above – and believe me trying to figure out which one takes precedence is a diplomatic minefield - every time I have to mark mails to half a dozen of these fellows, I go and ask HR for the pecking order so that I don’t inadvertently trample on some sensitive egos. Mind you, 3/4th of these have no tails or body. So we have loads of strategic talks and ideation and other very high-falutin things, but absolutely no implementation.
I think I need to change my designation as well. Cynic, Chief Writing Officer and Chief Moderating Officer, Wonderland. How’s that for a start?
This post was written sometime back, and I had completely forgotten about its existence – was just reading the Peter Principle ( I have a half written post on that), when I recalled this.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Excuse Moi
All hired lackeys of the corporate world have at sometime or the other in their lives wanted to play hooky from office for no urgent, obvious or necessary reasons.
If you haven’t, then you are a conscientious, front bencher and are a disgrace to civilization and should go and chullu bhar paani mein doob maro. Or maybe you are one of those enterprising entrepreneurs’ types – in which case, would you by any chance want to give me a job? Preferably one with little work and lots of money.
Anyways this urgent urge to bunk and revel in nothingness typically strikes a person after a few months of diligent hard work. If you are like me, it probably strikes once every two days.
However the unfortunate reality of the today’s work place is that when you get struck down by this itch, the jailors (in their better moments known as bosses) do not say “Go forth child and revel in nothingness”. They considerably more likely to try and squeeze out the last drop of work out of you – even when you quit work and start employment elsewhere. (Happened. Fact!)
So with this backdrop, taking random days off – is an exercise in tact and restraint – often dissimulation (though I prefer to call it inventiveness) ranging from the inane to the bizarre.
In the quest of spreading knowledge through my continuing educational series (Part I and II) on things they don’t teach you at B-schools, here are the Cynic’s illustrative examples to bunk office when you absolutely don’t have to.
Illustrative example #1:
Let’s take the example of a female worker, A. A wants to take leave to go watch a movie. A has a male, single, long suffering boss – B.
A sidles up to B one day dons a pained expression and stutters out “Er..B?”
B: cranky from odd shift hours looks up “Yes?”
A: “B – I’m not coming in tomorrow”
B:”Huh? Sez who?”
A: (triumphantly produces the rabbit from the hat) “Have a gynaecologist’s appointment!”
B like all single red-blooded men, is scared shitless of doctors of the female species, gulps and runs for the hills (after sanctioning leave)
Illustrative example #2:
Let’s say there is a girl C in her early twenties. She is serving a notice period on her job and has a particularly nasty, sadistic boss – Mrs. B. Mrs B. Has had a baby so she works part time and hounds C the rest of the time.
One Friday afternoon Mrs. B has a pedicure and wants to leave early. She envisages a brilliant opportunity to get C into work on Sunday and informs C of the same.
C then blushes coyly and mutters “I am sorry Mrs. B – I can’t come to office on Sunday because I have to go out with my mother”
Mrs. B does some rapid mental calisthenics – young marriageable girl, mother and has eureka moment “MUST be boy viewing” she decides.
Proceeds to make inquiries “Is it a boy – tell me what does he do?”
C demurely looks down and knots the fringe of her dupatta and whispers “No, no ...Nothing like that” and proceeds look as bashful as is possible.
Mrs. B pounces on that “Of course it is – Look LOOK you are blushing”
And then magnanimously proceeds to allow her the day off and hounds C on Monday for details (non-existent of course)
Illustrative example #3:
Take any young worker – let’s call him D. D calls up and informs the boss B that he has an accident on his bike ( on the way to work – such a conscientious worker he is) and will therefore be unable to make the regular appearance at the workplace. B, who happens to have a conscience rushes off to visit D and see if there is any major damage. D hearing of this impending visit – decides to put a splint in his arm and proceeds to tie it up – and thus gets out of working for not one or two days – but many, many days.
Illustrative example # 4:
Let’s take the example of worker E. Worker E decides that he wants to get multiple days off but at intermittent intervals . Thinks deep and hard about what can possibly require urgent attention and presence every few weeks?
First occurrence “Have to go to bahargaon for property matters” ( Parul, bahargaon works with people like us too!)
Second occurrence “Complications happened in property – have to meet lawyer – only available date"
Third occurrence “Need to go to court”
Fourth occurrence “Affidavit”
And depending on how good you are, you can use this excuse for a guaranteed seven to eight times on an average.
To be continued: How the work-shirking cynic gets paid back in the same coin by the maid mafia.
If you haven’t, then you are a conscientious, front bencher and are a disgrace to civilization and should go and chullu bhar paani mein doob maro. Or maybe you are one of those enterprising entrepreneurs’ types – in which case, would you by any chance want to give me a job? Preferably one with little work and lots of money.
Anyways this urgent urge to bunk and revel in nothingness typically strikes a person after a few months of diligent hard work. If you are like me, it probably strikes once every two days.
However the unfortunate reality of the today’s work place is that when you get struck down by this itch, the jailors (in their better moments known as bosses) do not say “Go forth child and revel in nothingness”. They considerably more likely to try and squeeze out the last drop of work out of you – even when you quit work and start employment elsewhere. (Happened. Fact!)
So with this backdrop, taking random days off – is an exercise in tact and restraint – often dissimulation (though I prefer to call it inventiveness) ranging from the inane to the bizarre.
In the quest of spreading knowledge through my continuing educational series (Part I and II) on things they don’t teach you at B-schools, here are the Cynic’s illustrative examples to bunk office when you absolutely don’t have to.
Illustrative example #1:
Let’s take the example of a female worker, A. A wants to take leave to go watch a movie. A has a male, single, long suffering boss – B.
A sidles up to B one day dons a pained expression and stutters out “Er..B?”
B: cranky from odd shift hours looks up “Yes?”
A: “B – I’m not coming in tomorrow”
B:”Huh? Sez who?”
A: (triumphantly produces the rabbit from the hat) “Have a gynaecologist’s appointment!”
B like all single red-blooded men, is scared shitless of doctors of the female species, gulps and runs for the hills (after sanctioning leave)
Illustrative example #2:
Let’s say there is a girl C in her early twenties. She is serving a notice period on her job and has a particularly nasty, sadistic boss – Mrs. B. Mrs B. Has had a baby so she works part time and hounds C the rest of the time.
One Friday afternoon Mrs. B has a pedicure and wants to leave early. She envisages a brilliant opportunity to get C into work on Sunday and informs C of the same.
C then blushes coyly and mutters “I am sorry Mrs. B – I can’t come to office on Sunday because I have to go out with my mother”
Mrs. B does some rapid mental calisthenics – young marriageable girl, mother and has eureka moment “MUST be boy viewing” she decides.
Proceeds to make inquiries “Is it a boy – tell me what does he do?”
C demurely looks down and knots the fringe of her dupatta and whispers “No, no ...Nothing like that” and proceeds look as bashful as is possible.
Mrs. B pounces on that “Of course it is – Look LOOK you are blushing”
And then magnanimously proceeds to allow her the day off and hounds C on Monday for details (non-existent of course)
Illustrative example #3:
Take any young worker – let’s call him D. D calls up and informs the boss B that he has an accident on his bike ( on the way to work – such a conscientious worker he is) and will therefore be unable to make the regular appearance at the workplace. B, who happens to have a conscience rushes off to visit D and see if there is any major damage. D hearing of this impending visit – decides to put a splint in his arm and proceeds to tie it up – and thus gets out of working for not one or two days – but many, many days.
Illustrative example # 4:
Let’s take the example of worker E. Worker E decides that he wants to get multiple days off but at intermittent intervals . Thinks deep and hard about what can possibly require urgent attention and presence every few weeks?
First occurrence “Have to go to bahargaon for property matters” ( Parul, bahargaon works with people like us too!)
Second occurrence “Complications happened in property – have to meet lawyer – only available date"
Third occurrence “Need to go to court”
Fourth occurrence “Affidavit”
And depending on how good you are, you can use this excuse for a guaranteed seven to eight times on an average.
To be continued: How the work-shirking cynic gets paid back in the same coin by the maid mafia.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
The Embezzlers
One of the most disconcerting side effects of a Notice-to-quit is the transformation which it occurs amongst (erstwhile friendly) colleagues (especially those in the HR and administrative departments). Overnight, the ordinary fellow office goer is transformed into the Public Enemy Number 1.
The feeling they (the admin/HR types) try and recreate is akin to what they might envisage for sequestered people on the Death Row – the same disgust, distrust and contempt. People watch you suspiciously with a hawk eye. Morning greetings dry up. People eye the CD you take from the stationary cupboard wondering if precious office intelligence is being siphoned off (This is especially amusing in an office with no intra-net, where the only data you can conceivably steal is what exists on your work station – viz. work which you have created which presumably also exists in your head)
The HR department buzzes around busily with forms in quintuplicate which you are expected to fill up and get verifications from any person you have had a nodding acquaintance with – the non-existent-library in charge, the cafeteria crowd (Okay, more than a nodding acquaintance in this case), the admin department, the accounts department and half a dozen other departments which you didn’t even know existed until you put in your resignation letter.
Most of the divisions are manageable but the admin department, anal schmucks ( pardon the french) at the best of times, rise to extraordinary levels of anality (is that a word?) when confronted with an on-notice-period-employee.
"Have you returned the staple pins? What about advance money? And you’re visiting cards. You have no RIGHT on the visiting cards - they are our property. Where are the books? Have you done the handover”
What conceivable use I could have for old visiting cards I still have not understood. If I worked in an organization which was so prestigious that even the visiting cards were collectors’ items, chances are I wouldn’t be quitting no?
In this kind of hostile-suspicious environment, one MAY find the saintly people who actually depart to the (hopefully) better work-hereafter, with spotless consciences and without having plotted (if not implemented) petty revenge.
And then there is the other set (to which I belong). The ones who have endured years of being screwed over with salaries-that-appear-attractive-only-in-appointment-letters, minuscule hikes which come five months late, bonuses which suddenly get linked to performance, variable pay which unvaryingly doesn’t get credited. And then are viewed suspiciously to add an insult to injury. It's no wonder then, that they decide to inflict maximum financial damage in the organization as their parting gift and swan song.
These include the super studs that steal large sums of money and deposit them quietly in numbered Swiss Accounts. Then there are the glib guns that lure away lucrative clients to their new employer. You will also find some conniving chaps who hijack hush-hush information and sell it to competition. And of course, there are swashbuckling people like me who daringly steal away vast quantities of pens and post it’s from the office supplies cupboard (this has nothing to do with my stationary fetish. Really).
And that is the risky task on which I have been engaged upon these last days.
Everyday some CD’s, scales, blank envelopes and pencils find their way mysteriously into my bag. Every night my bag is inexplicably clunkier than in the mornings. Every evening leaving for home is a quasi-military exercise. First the reconnaissance (to evaluate the lift floor, the precise position and likely movement of enemy personnel) followed by a sprint to the lift under cover from a friendly colleague (who has been promised a part in the spoils).
Once downstairs, I skulk furtively behind bushes so that the passing nosy colleague will not stop to inquire about why my bag looks like it’s on the verge of delivering twins.
And every single night, I, the Napoleon of Stationary-Stealers, relax happily in the afterglow of a successful heist.
Tomorrow, I think I shall pinch some business cards. Hmmmm...
The feeling they (the admin/HR types) try and recreate is akin to what they might envisage for sequestered people on the Death Row – the same disgust, distrust and contempt. People watch you suspiciously with a hawk eye. Morning greetings dry up. People eye the CD you take from the stationary cupboard wondering if precious office intelligence is being siphoned off (This is especially amusing in an office with no intra-net, where the only data you can conceivably steal is what exists on your work station – viz. work which you have created which presumably also exists in your head)
The HR department buzzes around busily with forms in quintuplicate which you are expected to fill up and get verifications from any person you have had a nodding acquaintance with – the non-existent-library in charge, the cafeteria crowd (Okay, more than a nodding acquaintance in this case), the admin department, the accounts department and half a dozen other departments which you didn’t even know existed until you put in your resignation letter.
Most of the divisions are manageable but the admin department, anal schmucks ( pardon the french) at the best of times, rise to extraordinary levels of anality (is that a word?) when confronted with an on-notice-period-employee.
"Have you returned the staple pins? What about advance money? And you’re visiting cards. You have no RIGHT on the visiting cards - they are our property. Where are the books? Have you done the handover”
What conceivable use I could have for old visiting cards I still have not understood. If I worked in an organization which was so prestigious that even the visiting cards were collectors’ items, chances are I wouldn’t be quitting no?
In this kind of hostile-suspicious environment, one MAY find the saintly people who actually depart to the (hopefully) better work-hereafter, with spotless consciences and without having plotted (if not implemented) petty revenge.
And then there is the other set (to which I belong). The ones who have endured years of being screwed over with salaries-that-appear-attractive-only-in-appointment-letters, minuscule hikes which come five months late, bonuses which suddenly get linked to performance, variable pay which unvaryingly doesn’t get credited. And then are viewed suspiciously to add an insult to injury. It's no wonder then, that they decide to inflict maximum financial damage in the organization as their parting gift and swan song.
These include the super studs that steal large sums of money and deposit them quietly in numbered Swiss Accounts. Then there are the glib guns that lure away lucrative clients to their new employer. You will also find some conniving chaps who hijack hush-hush information and sell it to competition. And of course, there are swashbuckling people like me who daringly steal away vast quantities of pens and post it’s from the office supplies cupboard (this has nothing to do with my stationary fetish. Really).
And that is the risky task on which I have been engaged upon these last days.
Everyday some CD’s, scales, blank envelopes and pencils find their way mysteriously into my bag. Every night my bag is inexplicably clunkier than in the mornings. Every evening leaving for home is a quasi-military exercise. First the reconnaissance (to evaluate the lift floor, the precise position and likely movement of enemy personnel) followed by a sprint to the lift under cover from a friendly colleague (who has been promised a part in the spoils).
Once downstairs, I skulk furtively behind bushes so that the passing nosy colleague will not stop to inquire about why my bag looks like it’s on the verge of delivering twins.
And every single night, I, the Napoleon of Stationary-Stealers, relax happily in the afterglow of a successful heist.
Tomorrow, I think I shall pinch some business cards. Hmmmm...
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Red Hot n Happening!
Ed Note: Recycled post from Nov 2004. Rediffblogs is gobbling up my old posts, so have to shift these here, and this seems to be the only way. Please bear with me.
Anyone who has worked or interacted with an agency would know that “Work on fire” is probably the most used and abused terms of all time. But what happens when the work is on fire…literally?
Yesterday at about six fifteen in the evening, my next-door colleague suddenly sniffs the air and says “kuch jal raha hai”. I obtusely grappling with a more-than-an-ordinarily testing statistical chart snap back “Haan mera dimaag pakh ke jal raha hoga”.
Two minutes later, the gentleman wiggles his nose again and says, “ I’m serious! I can really smell something burning”. Burning smells are much more interesting than correspondence maps so I get up to investigate.
Our work-bay is filled with this nightmarish maze of electronic/electric circuitry. So we periodically give Cassandra-ish predictions that someday, someone is going to get burnt to a cinder. The obvious conclusion, therefore, is that there is a spark around us. We duly search for the source. Nothing.
Next step is to check boss’ cabin that has this hideous piece of antiquity, which is euphemistically labeled as an air conditioner. That also seems to be in its normal rattle-shake-wheeze-some-gusts-of-cold-air condition.
Holler for the IT guy and tell them that there is a spark somewhere and curse him a bit for all the wires and rant about dangerous workstations and why is our department meted out step-child treatment. While the gentleman is on his knees examining the machines, someone yells from the corridor that there is this actual true blue (er.. red) fire happening in one of the rooms on the other side of the wall from us.
In about five minutes, the entire office is standing (far away from the danger zone of course) in the corridor right outside where media planning sits and watching the fire with the rapt attention normally reserved for Cannes winners. No panic, no screaming, no worry, just pure, unadulterated enjoyment of a show one is hardly ever privileged to see: - namely, a fire in a storeroom, people clambering on desks trying to break windows, and lot of people running up and down with fire extinguishers (that they don’t have a clue about how to operate).
Smartass comments from my office people commence (The media outfit is a part of, yet not a part of my agency. It’s a sister agency, but we share the same office, the same cafeteria, and often work together with the same clients. However, the creative wing and media are not exactly on very amicable terms, largely due to gallons of blood shed over the pool table and first playing rights on the same).
“Ah, we always knew that these media people had a lot of hot air in them”
“Bung a few of them inside will you!”
Suddenly someone (probably HR, who is a normally slow burning …er bulb I mean) realize that, the fire poses health hazards to the poor hapless employees. So the process of evacuation starts. By this time, all the electric mains have been switched off, so we are all grappling in the dark going back to workplaces to salvage bags and baggage. By this time, our desks and places are completely filled with smoke. Dramatically, we go to get the bags out- coughing, and with tears streaming down our eyes. Mind you, there is still no urgency except for the HR who is screaming up and down the corridors like banshees trying to get us out as quickly as possible. And then everyone is bunged out of office (some really smart people, instead of walking down the four flights of stairs took the lift - in an electric fire!).
Sporadic comments overheard on the stairway
“First time in my life I actually want to stay in office and they are sending us home!”
“It’s a conspiracy I tell you, other agencies were jealous of our work” (Followed by extremely loud and derisive hoots of laughter by everyone around)
The firefighters have already reached by the time we reach downstairs. The entire office is again assembled on the grounds craning their necks to see real firemen in action.
Client calls start. The statement of “Uhm…our office caught fire today, don’t think tomorrows work will happen” gets a medley of reactions
Fires will happen, cyclones will happen, doesn’t mean work can stop can it”
“What all excuses you people give - I have also worked in an agency remember, you always say there is a fire or some thing”
“Okay, send me a mail and cc my boss that you can’t work”
“Yes of course, the work is on fire, we need to catch the publication at six o clock!!!”
“Tu mar war nahin gaya na?” (Said in tones of extreme regret)
And this interaction that happened in the middle of the evacuation process. Accounts fellow meets colleague in the corridor while everyone is trying to leave. “Here is the duplicate bill you had asked for”. Colleague looks at him and puts the bill into his bag. Sometime later, they meet again downstairs. The Accounts guy asks, “You have the duplicate bill kept properly don’t you? I will NOT give you another copy if you are burnt upstairs!”
Hot place to work? You betcha!
P.S. We all ended up at office today, but couldn’t do any work whatsoever since switching on anything electric was considered unsafe. So there was cricket in the corridors, gossip in the cafeteria and generally a good time to be had by all.
Anyone who has worked or interacted with an agency would know that “Work on fire” is probably the most used and abused terms of all time. But what happens when the work is on fire…literally?
Yesterday at about six fifteen in the evening, my next-door colleague suddenly sniffs the air and says “kuch jal raha hai”. I obtusely grappling with a more-than-an-ordinarily testing statistical chart snap back “Haan mera dimaag pakh ke jal raha hoga”.
Two minutes later, the gentleman wiggles his nose again and says, “ I’m serious! I can really smell something burning”. Burning smells are much more interesting than correspondence maps so I get up to investigate.
Our work-bay is filled with this nightmarish maze of electronic/electric circuitry. So we periodically give Cassandra-ish predictions that someday, someone is going to get burnt to a cinder. The obvious conclusion, therefore, is that there is a spark around us. We duly search for the source. Nothing.
Next step is to check boss’ cabin that has this hideous piece of antiquity, which is euphemistically labeled as an air conditioner. That also seems to be in its normal rattle-shake-wheeze-some-gusts-of-cold-air condition.
Holler for the IT guy and tell them that there is a spark somewhere and curse him a bit for all the wires and rant about dangerous workstations and why is our department meted out step-child treatment. While the gentleman is on his knees examining the machines, someone yells from the corridor that there is this actual true blue (er.. red) fire happening in one of the rooms on the other side of the wall from us.
In about five minutes, the entire office is standing (far away from the danger zone of course) in the corridor right outside where media planning sits and watching the fire with the rapt attention normally reserved for Cannes winners. No panic, no screaming, no worry, just pure, unadulterated enjoyment of a show one is hardly ever privileged to see: - namely, a fire in a storeroom, people clambering on desks trying to break windows, and lot of people running up and down with fire extinguishers (that they don’t have a clue about how to operate).
Smartass comments from my office people commence (The media outfit is a part of, yet not a part of my agency. It’s a sister agency, but we share the same office, the same cafeteria, and often work together with the same clients. However, the creative wing and media are not exactly on very amicable terms, largely due to gallons of blood shed over the pool table and first playing rights on the same).
“Ah, we always knew that these media people had a lot of hot air in them”
“Bung a few of them inside will you!”
Suddenly someone (probably HR, who is a normally slow burning …er bulb I mean) realize that, the fire poses health hazards to the poor hapless employees. So the process of evacuation starts. By this time, all the electric mains have been switched off, so we are all grappling in the dark going back to workplaces to salvage bags and baggage. By this time, our desks and places are completely filled with smoke. Dramatically, we go to get the bags out- coughing, and with tears streaming down our eyes. Mind you, there is still no urgency except for the HR who is screaming up and down the corridors like banshees trying to get us out as quickly as possible. And then everyone is bunged out of office (some really smart people, instead of walking down the four flights of stairs took the lift - in an electric fire!).
Sporadic comments overheard on the stairway
“First time in my life I actually want to stay in office and they are sending us home!”
“It’s a conspiracy I tell you, other agencies were jealous of our work” (Followed by extremely loud and derisive hoots of laughter by everyone around)
The firefighters have already reached by the time we reach downstairs. The entire office is again assembled on the grounds craning their necks to see real firemen in action.
Client calls start. The statement of “Uhm…our office caught fire today, don’t think tomorrows work will happen” gets a medley of reactions
Fires will happen, cyclones will happen, doesn’t mean work can stop can it”
“What all excuses you people give - I have also worked in an agency remember, you always say there is a fire or some thing”
“Okay, send me a mail and cc my boss that you can’t work”
“Yes of course, the work is on fire, we need to catch the publication at six o clock!!!”
“Tu mar war nahin gaya na?” (Said in tones of extreme regret)
And this interaction that happened in the middle of the evacuation process. Accounts fellow meets colleague in the corridor while everyone is trying to leave. “Here is the duplicate bill you had asked for”. Colleague looks at him and puts the bill into his bag. Sometime later, they meet again downstairs. The Accounts guy asks, “You have the duplicate bill kept properly don’t you? I will NOT give you another copy if you are burnt upstairs!”
Hot place to work? You betcha!
P.S. We all ended up at office today, but couldn’t do any work whatsoever since switching on anything electric was considered unsafe. So there was cricket in the corridors, gossip in the cafeteria and generally a good time to be had by all.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Red tapestry
The other day some vendor bills which I had given to Finance for processing came back to me with a post it which said “please complete the purchase order” on this. I was mildly surprised – I used to input autographed bills to the concerned chap in commercials and sooner or later (usually later, after a couple of weeks or stalking and dire threats) he would produce a cheque which I paid to the vendor. There had been no post it’s with unfamiliar terms like purchase orders and requisitions before.
I went to the boss to make inquiries – he said “I’ve got a flood of mails with attachments which I have not read. There was something about purchase orders – that’s probably what they are talking about”
Then he has a happy notion of forwarding these mails to me.
So far, so good.
However, on further investigation, it is revealed that these mails have five attachments in excel and word outlining new “processes” for the payment of bills. These processes include a multistage complex choreography of activities which involve the participation of people who have absolutely NO connection to
a) My division
b) To the finance department
c) The senior management /signatories
d) The Business vertical which is initiating the project
These people were apparently hired to some software development for our associate company in Singapore and in other words, are completely and absolutely as de-linked from the work (and consequently the vendors) as it is possible to be in a moderately large organization.
But, for some reason, the Gods –that –sit-in-the-boardrooms have ordained them as the people who will decide the fate of my poor suppliers.
Unusual perhaps, but still acceptable.
The killer requirement however, is the footnote that hits you if you have managed to wade through the document “Please provide all copies in triplicate. Original copy goes to X, first copy to Y and third copy to Z”.
Incidentally, the company prides itself on its cutting edge technology. The factory has the state of the art – minimal human interaction – robotized machines. It is completely wi-fi enabled and even the lowliest flunky is given a fancy laptop and absolute connectivity (the fact that a lot of the people can barely open word is a different story altogether).
But yet, they are pleased to inform us that fifty page documents need to be photocopies in triplicates and attached with PR and directed through three levels of bureaucracy before a simple bill can be processed.
A further twist in the tale happens when one after a laborious process, somehow manage to get the bills out through these faceless chaps – lets call them Mr. X ( bill is kept on X’s desk, after about fifteen mails exchanges where one is forced to submit the most trivial and inane data as supporting evidence.).
Then we go to round 2 where we need to deal with Y. Y who was born Mr. Doubtfire in earlier janam. He has been hired for the sole purpose of being suspicious. He views everyone sceptically and is labours under the absolutely unshakable conviction that they are out to swindle the company of the hard earned (sic!) monies. Getting the forms through him is like living through the Spanish Inquisition. He stalks. He eyes you suspiciously. He whispers things to the finance department while all the time glowering at you.
By the time you actually manage to convince him that the bills ARE genuine for services rendered, your insides have been converted into a state of quivering mush.
(As an aside in one of the companies I have haunted, one of the Mr. Y’s had a profound objection to people making STD phone calls even if it was work. So after a particularly acrimonious tete-a-tete where he asked me whether I wanted to call a client in Delhi for WORK or other reasons. I told him I wanted to call him to send him my shaadi ka card. Quite a clever repartee I thought at that time. This would be a good time to applaud by the way)
And the final task is to get the signatures from the Man-who-never-was. He has a cubicle, he has a secretary, and he has a couple of phones and blackberrys (blackberries?) But rather like the Yeti and Nessie, while people know he exists, no one has actually seen him. Thus it means oozing out whatever little charm is left (after Mr Y has put one through the wringer) to get his all-important secretary to get the signatures.
Sigh.
Mind you, our mission statement has been bursting at the seams with words like nimble and cutting edge and progressive. I wonder whether they see the irony of it. Hmm.
I went to the boss to make inquiries – he said “I’ve got a flood of mails with attachments which I have not read. There was something about purchase orders – that’s probably what they are talking about”
Then he has a happy notion of forwarding these mails to me.
So far, so good.
However, on further investigation, it is revealed that these mails have five attachments in excel and word outlining new “processes” for the payment of bills. These processes include a multistage complex choreography of activities which involve the participation of people who have absolutely NO connection to
a) My division
b) To the finance department
c) The senior management /signatories
d) The Business vertical which is initiating the project
These people were apparently hired to some software development for our associate company in Singapore and in other words, are completely and absolutely as de-linked from the work (and consequently the vendors) as it is possible to be in a moderately large organization.
But, for some reason, the Gods –that –sit-in-the-boardrooms have ordained them as the people who will decide the fate of my poor suppliers.
Unusual perhaps, but still acceptable.
The killer requirement however, is the footnote that hits you if you have managed to wade through the document “Please provide all copies in triplicate. Original copy goes to X, first copy to Y and third copy to Z”.
Incidentally, the company prides itself on its cutting edge technology. The factory has the state of the art – minimal human interaction – robotized machines. It is completely wi-fi enabled and even the lowliest flunky is given a fancy laptop and absolute connectivity (the fact that a lot of the people can barely open word is a different story altogether).
But yet, they are pleased to inform us that fifty page documents need to be photocopies in triplicates and attached with PR and directed through three levels of bureaucracy before a simple bill can be processed.
A further twist in the tale happens when one after a laborious process, somehow manage to get the bills out through these faceless chaps – lets call them Mr. X ( bill is kept on X’s desk, after about fifteen mails exchanges where one is forced to submit the most trivial and inane data as supporting evidence.).
Then we go to round 2 where we need to deal with Y. Y who was born Mr. Doubtfire in earlier janam. He has been hired for the sole purpose of being suspicious. He views everyone sceptically and is labours under the absolutely unshakable conviction that they are out to swindle the company of the hard earned (sic!) monies. Getting the forms through him is like living through the Spanish Inquisition. He stalks. He eyes you suspiciously. He whispers things to the finance department while all the time glowering at you.
By the time you actually manage to convince him that the bills ARE genuine for services rendered, your insides have been converted into a state of quivering mush.
(As an aside in one of the companies I have haunted, one of the Mr. Y’s had a profound objection to people making STD phone calls even if it was work. So after a particularly acrimonious tete-a-tete where he asked me whether I wanted to call a client in Delhi for WORK or other reasons. I told him I wanted to call him to send him my shaadi ka card. Quite a clever repartee I thought at that time. This would be a good time to applaud by the way)
And the final task is to get the signatures from the Man-who-never-was. He has a cubicle, he has a secretary, and he has a couple of phones and blackberrys (blackberries?) But rather like the Yeti and Nessie, while people know he exists, no one has actually seen him. Thus it means oozing out whatever little charm is left (after Mr Y has put one through the wringer) to get his all-important secretary to get the signatures.
Sigh.
Mind you, our mission statement has been bursting at the seams with words like nimble and cutting edge and progressive. I wonder whether they see the irony of it. Hmm.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Cynic’s Tools for the corporate trade.
(Continued from here)
Presenting the Cynic‘s Essential Tool Kit for the Corporate Trade.
#1: La Cushion De CYA
Is your derriere your Achilles heel? Do you always have to bend like a contortionist to protect the vulnerable areas from attacks from unexpected quarters?
Introducing the extra strength, super endurance La Cushion de CYA. La Cushions de CYA comes enmeshed with a fine mesh of super grade steel (also used to make rockets), for the ultimate protection against any dorsal attacks. They are ergonomically designed to take your individual shape for maximum comfort. And what more, they are padded with super fine, ultra soft cotton to suit even the most sensitive posteriors.
Durable defence for your derriere
Comes in a range of bright colors to match every outfit.
# 2: Crocodile Dew Glycerine
Have you ever written/had the pressing urge to write melodramatic and highly emotionally charged (and grammatically haywire) mails like this (marked to the world) for every trivial issue?
Then Crocodile dew glycerin is JUST the nifty accessory for you.
Crocodile Dew is made from the extract of the finest glycerides, for that absolutely translucence and odour free consistency. It goes through a five stage process to ensure the most distilled and refined pure glycerine with 80% hygroscopic properties – thus ensuring that that it looks and feels even more real than actual tears can ever hope to. This is why it’s been the preferred brand of all our cine – stars down the ages, right from Meena Kumari to Alok Nath.
Tears on tap – anytime, anywhere!
Special limited offer: Crocodile Tissue pack free on the purchase of two packs of Crocodile Dew Glycerine
# 3: Bombast’s Hot-Air Recharge Station
Does your battery get down sprouting all that hot air in meetings? Do you feel utterly deflated after conferences? Has some sharp wit of colleague punctured your blustering tirade? Worry not, presenting the Bombast’s Hot-Air Recharge Station
Bombast’s Hot Air Recharge Station, is your portable solution for all your hot air needs. All you need to do is plug it into your nearest socket, and imbibe the warm, flavoured (mint, orange, strawberry or mixed fruit) helium air inside for fifteen minutes and you are ready to roar again! It has an inbuilt temperature control system, which allows you to set thermal level depending upon your individual needs!
Now float in to every meeting, confidently charged, full with effervescent energy!
# 4: Twisterin’ Tongue
Have you ever been hampered by the inadequate absorbency of your tongue? Has it limited your ability to lick *** effectively? Have you ever thought to yourself “oh how I wish I could lick some more, I could kiss some more?”
Look no further!
Introducing the Twisterin’ Tongue – the ultimate tongue enhancer in the world today.
Twisterin tongue has an elasticized, rubberized casing (super flexible for extra reach even difficult places) and absorbent gel within this casing which allows you to absorb upto seven times its weight, without getting saturated.
Twisterin’ Tongue is the present across all corners of the world – In Hollywood; it is the preferred brand of Yes-Men, Publicists and wannabe starlets alike. In India, it is the official and exclusive distributor for all civil and administrative and Government services personnel.
Don’t wait; lick your way up to the top today!
# 5: Original Rhino-Hide Body Suit
The work place can be tough sometimes – colleagues, clients, suppliers, superiors are often known to pass quite cutting comments.
As the name suggests, the Body-Suit is made from Original Rhino Hide, legendary for its thickness and absolute resilience to the external environmental conditions. This body suit has been further enhanced with Boomerang Receptors that amplify and reflect back any critiques which might be directed at the sender thus keeping you absolutely safe and absolutely impervious to any kind of suggestions – constructive or otherwise.
Be safe, be strong, be a Rhino!
# 6: Chaume, by Devdas
And if you thought the stubbly look was only useful in attracting pretty young things, think again! ‘Chaume’ the ultimate male accessory, can be one of the most effective work repellents known to corporate-kind.
The application of Chaume allows one to portray and abject state of stress and
overwork which leaves no time for everyday chores like shaving. It is made with that special stick-and-pat formula TM, (built in association with the 3M team that developed post-it notes) which can be reused for 187 days. What more, it is enhanced with the essence of aloe vera gel for that non scratchy, non itchy experience.
Work shirking has never been so easy!
Available in a range of styles and sizes to suit each and every face type and size – French, Luxuriant, Stubbly, Middle-eastern, Plectrum-Style
# 7: Spinner’s Turn Coat
To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven
Isn’t that JUST what one feels in the corporate world? A season to say yes, and to change it to no. That is the genesis and the philosophy behind Spinners Turn Coat.
The turn coat effortlessly and guiltlessly helps you morph your views, opinions and stands to suit the environment at hand. It is woven from the softest chameleon silk, which is cool and airy and safeguards you from so much as breaking into a sweat.
Spin away to good fortune!
Available in XS, S, M, L, XL, XXL
For sales and distribution inquiries contact: cynicinwonderland@gmail.com
ve i
Presenting the Cynic‘s Essential Tool Kit for the Corporate Trade.
#1: La Cushion De CYA
Is your derriere your Achilles heel? Do you always have to bend like a contortionist to protect the vulnerable areas from attacks from unexpected quarters?
Introducing the extra strength, super endurance La Cushion de CYA. La Cushions de CYA comes enmeshed with a fine mesh of super grade steel (also used to make rockets), for the ultimate protection against any dorsal attacks. They are ergonomically designed to take your individual shape for maximum comfort. And what more, they are padded with super fine, ultra soft cotton to suit even the most sensitive posteriors.
Durable defence for your derriere
Comes in a range of bright colors to match every outfit.
# 2: Crocodile Dew Glycerine
Have you ever written/had the pressing urge to write melodramatic and highly emotionally charged (and grammatically haywire) mails like this (marked to the world) for every trivial issue?
“I think he can't be a fit person handling abc It is matter of pure common sense I am frustrated and upset - am not in a position to write further. I am not blaming any one personally, but now it is a high time to give it a serious thought”
Then Crocodile dew glycerin is JUST the nifty accessory for you.
Crocodile Dew is made from the extract of the finest glycerides, for that absolutely translucence and odour free consistency. It goes through a five stage process to ensure the most distilled and refined pure glycerine with 80% hygroscopic properties – thus ensuring that that it looks and feels even more real than actual tears can ever hope to. This is why it’s been the preferred brand of all our cine – stars down the ages, right from Meena Kumari to Alok Nath.
Tears on tap – anytime, anywhere!
Special limited offer: Crocodile Tissue pack free on the purchase of two packs of Crocodile Dew Glycerine
# 3: Bombast’s Hot-Air Recharge Station
Does your battery get down sprouting all that hot air in meetings? Do you feel utterly deflated after conferences? Has some sharp wit of colleague punctured your blustering tirade? Worry not, presenting the Bombast’s Hot-Air Recharge Station
Bombast’s Hot Air Recharge Station, is your portable solution for all your hot air needs. All you need to do is plug it into your nearest socket, and imbibe the warm, flavoured (mint, orange, strawberry or mixed fruit) helium air inside for fifteen minutes and you are ready to roar again! It has an inbuilt temperature control system, which allows you to set thermal level depending upon your individual needs!Now float in to every meeting, confidently charged, full with effervescent energy!
# 4: Twisterin’ Tongue
Have you ever been hampered by the inadequate absorbency of your tongue? Has it limited your ability to lick *** effectively? Have you ever thought to yourself “oh how I wish I could lick some more, I could kiss some more?”
Look no further!
Introducing the Twisterin’ Tongue – the ultimate tongue enhancer in the world today.Twisterin tongue has an elasticized, rubberized casing (super flexible for extra reach even difficult places) and absorbent gel within this casing which allows you to absorb upto seven times its weight, without getting saturated.
Twisterin’ Tongue is the present across all corners of the world – In Hollywood; it is the preferred brand of Yes-Men, Publicists and wannabe starlets alike. In India, it is the official and exclusive distributor for all civil and administrative and Government services personnel.
Don’t wait; lick your way up to the top today!
# 5: Original Rhino-Hide Body Suit
The work place can be tough sometimes – colleagues, clients, suppliers, superiors are often known to pass quite cutting comments.
As the name suggests, the Body-Suit is made from Original Rhino Hide, legendary for its thickness and absolute resilience to the external environmental conditions. This body suit has been further enhanced with Boomerang Receptors that amplify and reflect back any critiques which might be directed at the sender thus keeping you absolutely safe and absolutely impervious to any kind of suggestions – constructive or otherwise.Be safe, be strong, be a Rhino!
# 6: Chaume, by Devdas
And if you thought the stubbly look was only useful in attracting pretty young things, think again! ‘Chaume’ the ultimate male accessory, can be one of the most effective work repellents known to corporate-kind.
The application of Chaume allows one to portray and abject state of stress and
overwork which leaves no time for everyday chores like shaving. It is made with that special stick-and-pat formula TM, (built in association with the 3M team that developed post-it notes) which can be reused for 187 days. What more, it is enhanced with the essence of aloe vera gel for that non scratchy, non itchy experience.Work shirking has never been so easy!
Available in a range of styles and sizes to suit each and every face type and size – French, Luxuriant, Stubbly, Middle-eastern, Plectrum-Style
# 7: Spinner’s Turn Coat
To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven
Isn’t that JUST what one feels in the corporate world? A season to say yes, and to change it to no. That is the genesis and the philosophy behind Spinners Turn Coat.The turn coat effortlessly and guiltlessly helps you morph your views, opinions and stands to suit the environment at hand. It is woven from the softest chameleon silk, which is cool and airy and safeguards you from so much as breaking into a sweat.
Spin away to good fortune!
Available in XS, S, M, L, XL, XXL
For sales and distribution inquiries contact: cynicinwonderland@gmail.com
ve i
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Survival guide for the corporate jungle
It’s a rat race out there. Dog eat dog world. The survival of the bitchiest. And all sorts of other animalistic and atavistic analogies one can cite. So for the new and not so new professionals on the threshold of a career;
Presenting the Cynic's 7C-GUIDE to Surviving the Corporate Jungle (CCC for Short) *Tadaaaaa*
Rule #1: CHANNEL the power of FUKITOL!!!
Are you living the lifestyle? Start your weekday with 1000 mg of Fukitol tablet. On Mondays, don’t stint – have two. The super powerful Fukitol tablet releases endorphins such as
“Illegitimi non Carbodium” (don’t let the b****** get you down),
“Every dog has his day and so will you”
And all other such delightful adages to help you stay fortified through the working day.
Rule #2: CALL a friend.
Telemarketers are extremely annoying specimens of humanity who WILL call and irk one in the midst of professional chaos – right? Wrong! Telemarketers can be your friends. All you need to do know is how to use them well. When a telemarketer calls, one does not snap “Busy – not interested.” Instead, one says:
"Oh thank you so much for calling. For xyz reasons I cannot afford your credit- card/housing loan/ personal loan – however I know a person who has been searching DESPERATELY for it - Please DO call him up – his name is Mr. X (Mr. X is the particular not-so-gentleman who might have pissed you off on that particular day) – oh and also, you have got my name wrong – its not Cynic but Cynelle – just so that he doesn’t get confused in case you give him my reference”
Rule #3: See the CC
Have you looked at your outlook or Lotus Notes carefully? There is a very useful invention called the CC. its not there for decorative purposes. USE IT. Use it wisely and use it WELL. CC everyone – don’t stint. CC bosses, colleagues, their wives, their pet dogs. Don’t underestimate the power of CC in another very important C in your life – the CYA.
Rule #4: The CoCo principle
And you thought CoCo meant CoCo Jambo or CoCo Chanel (depending on your gender or musical affiliations)? The CoCo principle has its genesis in advertising industry – where there is a great deal of interaction which takes place with fairly clueless but stubborn-as-hell clients. This useful principle can be adapted to all corporates as well and can be used judiciously on colleagues and senior management. The underlying principle of this is if you can’t CONVINCE, Confuse. Use multi coloured graphs. Use hyperlinks. Use cross tabs. Use arrows and the other entire useful thingummy which Power point has specifically made for this purpose. Wow them with the designs – overload them with numbers - annotate their heads with bullet points- and sock them with English which is open to various interpretations. Confuse the s*** out of ‘em until their eyes glaze over and their heads start drooping from fatigue.
Rule #5: CHUCK De Work
Have you ever played beach volleyball? Well it has some very interesting features that MUST be appropriated into your workplace viz. the art of lobbying! One can’t underestimate the role of lobbying in the workplace – it is CRITICAL. Whether it’s lobbying insults with moronic colleagues, or lobbying bills from one department to another or lobbying work to others.
Master this art until you are a professional lobbyer – especially lobbying work to the boss.
If uneasy voices protest, tell them to shut up and remind them that the boss is paid five times your salary. And remember, when in doubt ALWAYS UPWARDLY DELEGATE.
Rule #6: CLASS Participation
Did you know that your promotion and growth in an organization is directly linked to the amount you can gas fluently? Therefore, meetings provide a wonderful vehicle for growth and prosperity. ALWAYS state at least thing with a great deal of passion and vehemence and conviction at every meeting you attend. It does not have to be relevant to the topic on hand – it can be anything. On the state of the economy or the weather or what nail polish the CMD’s wife is wearing. This has often been referred to as the rule of CLASS participation.
Rule #7: CALCULATIONS for Success.
And the unfailing formula for success? Here is one which works every single time. Take your monthly gross salary amount – a nice round figure with lots of zeroes (hopefully). Divide it by 30. And every time you can feel your hair whitening and ulcers mushrooming, - chant the following mantra 1001 times.
“For every F****** day I spend here, I get these many (the daily figure) nice, green notes in my bank account .Some weekends I get this for NOT working!”
The day, and week will magically seem brighter!
To be continued: Cynic’s Tools for the Corporate Trade
Presenting the Cynic's 7C-GUIDE to Surviving the Corporate Jungle (CCC for Short) *Tadaaaaa*
Rule #1: CHANNEL the power of FUKITOL!!!
Are you living the lifestyle? Start your weekday with 1000 mg of Fukitol tablet. On Mondays, don’t stint – have two. The super powerful Fukitol tablet releases endorphins such as
“Illegitimi non Carbodium” (don’t let the b****** get you down),
“Every dog has his day and so will you”
And all other such delightful adages to help you stay fortified through the working day.
Rule #2: CALL a friend.
Telemarketers are extremely annoying specimens of humanity who WILL call and irk one in the midst of professional chaos – right? Wrong! Telemarketers can be your friends. All you need to do know is how to use them well. When a telemarketer calls, one does not snap “Busy – not interested.” Instead, one says:
"Oh thank you so much for calling. For xyz reasons I cannot afford your credit- card/housing loan/ personal loan – however I know a person who has been searching DESPERATELY for it - Please DO call him up – his name is Mr. X (Mr. X is the particular not-so-gentleman who might have pissed you off on that particular day) – oh and also, you have got my name wrong – its not Cynic but Cynelle – just so that he doesn’t get confused in case you give him my reference”
Rule #3: See the CC
Have you looked at your outlook or Lotus Notes carefully? There is a very useful invention called the CC. its not there for decorative purposes. USE IT. Use it wisely and use it WELL. CC everyone – don’t stint. CC bosses, colleagues, their wives, their pet dogs. Don’t underestimate the power of CC in another very important C in your life – the CYA.
Rule #4: The CoCo principle
And you thought CoCo meant CoCo Jambo or CoCo Chanel (depending on your gender or musical affiliations)? The CoCo principle has its genesis in advertising industry – where there is a great deal of interaction which takes place with fairly clueless but stubborn-as-hell clients. This useful principle can be adapted to all corporates as well and can be used judiciously on colleagues and senior management. The underlying principle of this is if you can’t CONVINCE, Confuse. Use multi coloured graphs. Use hyperlinks. Use cross tabs. Use arrows and the other entire useful thingummy which Power point has specifically made for this purpose. Wow them with the designs – overload them with numbers - annotate their heads with bullet points- and sock them with English which is open to various interpretations. Confuse the s*** out of ‘em until their eyes glaze over and their heads start drooping from fatigue.
Rule #5: CHUCK De Work
Have you ever played beach volleyball? Well it has some very interesting features that MUST be appropriated into your workplace viz. the art of lobbying! One can’t underestimate the role of lobbying in the workplace – it is CRITICAL. Whether it’s lobbying insults with moronic colleagues, or lobbying bills from one department to another or lobbying work to others.
Master this art until you are a professional lobbyer – especially lobbying work to the boss.
If uneasy voices protest, tell them to shut up and remind them that the boss is paid five times your salary. And remember, when in doubt ALWAYS UPWARDLY DELEGATE.
Rule #6: CLASS Participation
Did you know that your promotion and growth in an organization is directly linked to the amount you can gas fluently? Therefore, meetings provide a wonderful vehicle for growth and prosperity. ALWAYS state at least thing with a great deal of passion and vehemence and conviction at every meeting you attend. It does not have to be relevant to the topic on hand – it can be anything. On the state of the economy or the weather or what nail polish the CMD’s wife is wearing. This has often been referred to as the rule of CLASS participation.
Rule #7: CALCULATIONS for Success.
And the unfailing formula for success? Here is one which works every single time. Take your monthly gross salary amount – a nice round figure with lots of zeroes (hopefully). Divide it by 30. And every time you can feel your hair whitening and ulcers mushrooming, - chant the following mantra 1001 times.
“For every F****** day I spend here, I get these many (the daily figure) nice, green notes in my bank account .Some weekends I get this for NOT working!”
The day, and week will magically seem brighter!
To be continued: Cynic’s Tools for the Corporate Trade
Monday, March 31, 2008
The Dearly Departed
All organizations periodically go through an exodus every few years. An eerie, almost synchronized exit from the workplace in a remarkably short time span. A period when it appears as if, almost every other person has resigned or is on the verge of resigning or is desperately searching for jobs and looking forward to resigning. (My old office, for instance, witnessed an unprecedented and un-orchestrated departure of 32 managers in three weeks. The HR team was sitting on floors, flailing their chests and pulling their hair out in anguish).
The problem only arises when you (a relative fresher to the organization), get stuck in the middle of this upheaval.
There are typically two ways of reacting to this exodus, depending on the kind of person you are.
If you are the strong, brave corporate type of rookie, you will observe this flight of people with icy, impassiveness and disdain.
“Go” you will think. “I will take over this organization” and “You should have left earlier you incompetent deserters, I will now show you how organizations need to be run” and “ now you will actually see some difference in all those Excel tables and PowerPoint graphs” you mentally holler, in a smug, self satisfied way.
However, if you are one of the slightly feeble minded, feebly loyal breed (such as yours truly) – then this exodus has quite a different effect.
You (the vague feeble minded variant – henceforth referred to as VFMV) unfortunately and quite reprehensibly, get infected with the great Exit Mode Virus.
The VFMV normal work mode is growly-cranky-cribby-whiny-broke – this will suddenly undergo a complete and inexplicable metamorphosis.
The VFMV is happy. The VFMV is beaming. The VFMV feels buoyant coming to work thinking joyful thoughts about how it’s just for a few more days. The VFMV is swashbuckling and dynamic in meetings and has strong opinions on stuff which the VFMV has no clue about. The VFMV is delightfully irresponsible about deadlines and their importance. When colleagues and business partners speak in grave serious tones about plans to be put in practise in two months, the VFMV mentally chuckles and thinks “I won’t be HERE to implement these plans in two months. At every opportunity, the VFMV polishes and refines the resignation letter. The VFMV surfs websites like makemytrip.com and plans on where the VFMV person should go after the VFMV finishes the notices period and before the start of the new job.
And then the VFMV has an epiphany. The VFMV does NOT have a new job. The VFMV does not have a new job because no new jobs have been applied for. Heck the VFMV does not even have an updated resume.
The VFMV is left with feelings akin to seeing off a party of friends off to a holiday in Hawaii while forlornly standing at the departure lounge. The VFMV damns everyone to eternal hell and then looks mournfully at the at the all-ready-but-the-printing resignation letter, sighs and sadly shuts the PC off.
Update for April 1st:
Happy Birthdays to the Blog (4 YEARS!!! I started it as a April Fools joke on myself) and the Bloke (Otherwise known as the husband or the hero or S I had to alliterate, I can’t HELP it) – Both very integral to my life. You shall get a special post (both of you), once I get out of this darn blogger’s block on birthdays.
The problem only arises when you (a relative fresher to the organization), get stuck in the middle of this upheaval.
There are typically two ways of reacting to this exodus, depending on the kind of person you are.
If you are the strong, brave corporate type of rookie, you will observe this flight of people with icy, impassiveness and disdain.
“Go” you will think. “I will take over this organization” and “You should have left earlier you incompetent deserters, I will now show you how organizations need to be run” and “ now you will actually see some difference in all those Excel tables and PowerPoint graphs” you mentally holler, in a smug, self satisfied way.
However, if you are one of the slightly feeble minded, feebly loyal breed (such as yours truly) – then this exodus has quite a different effect.
You (the vague feeble minded variant – henceforth referred to as VFMV) unfortunately and quite reprehensibly, get infected with the great Exit Mode Virus.
The VFMV normal work mode is growly-cranky-cribby-whiny-broke – this will suddenly undergo a complete and inexplicable metamorphosis.
The VFMV is happy. The VFMV is beaming. The VFMV feels buoyant coming to work thinking joyful thoughts about how it’s just for a few more days. The VFMV is swashbuckling and dynamic in meetings and has strong opinions on stuff which the VFMV has no clue about. The VFMV is delightfully irresponsible about deadlines and their importance. When colleagues and business partners speak in grave serious tones about plans to be put in practise in two months, the VFMV mentally chuckles and thinks “I won’t be HERE to implement these plans in two months. At every opportunity, the VFMV polishes and refines the resignation letter. The VFMV surfs websites like makemytrip.com and plans on where the VFMV person should go after the VFMV finishes the notices period and before the start of the new job.
And then the VFMV has an epiphany. The VFMV does NOT have a new job. The VFMV does not have a new job because no new jobs have been applied for. Heck the VFMV does not even have an updated resume.
The VFMV is left with feelings akin to seeing off a party of friends off to a holiday in Hawaii while forlornly standing at the departure lounge. The VFMV damns everyone to eternal hell and then looks mournfully at the at the all-ready-but-the-printing resignation letter, sighs and sadly shuts the PC off.
Update for April 1st:
Happy Birthdays to the Blog (4 YEARS!!! I started it as a April Fools joke on myself) and the Bloke (Otherwise known as the husband or the hero or S I had to alliterate, I can’t HELP it) – Both very integral to my life. You shall get a special post (both of you), once I get out of this darn blogger’s block on birthdays.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Geek and Latin
A long time ago, when I was in school, I had this friend who used to write poetry. She didn’t write ordinary poems which were consumable by ordinary uneducated plebeians such as self. Rather, had a penchant for liberally using words like ‘opalescence’ and the ‘iridescence’. One day I decided I would also attempt a poem like that. So I randomly looked at the dictionary for words which I couldn’t pronounce and strung them together with arbitrary breaks and shared this ‘poem’ with her. She thought it was exceedingly profound and intense.
Now, why am I sharing prehistoric stories of my childhood? Well, because for the last two days I have been wading through a proposal submitted by our so called Business Intelligence Strategic Partner (Even their NAME is in Jargonese for God’s sake) which I suspect has been put together much the same way.
Just to give an example, ONE sentence yesterday included the following words - syntactic, lexical, pragmatic, semantic and prototypical - all jostling each other in a haphazard manner, purportedly trying to convey some information to the reader. They even had a little graph with arrows going in various directions proclaiming coyly whether they were syntactic or semantic.
In the normal course of events – a document like this would have resulted in me, tying myself into knots, wondering whether this was some divine retribution for catnapping/daydreaming in the briefing meetings. I would assume that this document made complete lucid sense to all the other readers, and would be left with this uneasy, sinking feeling (akin to what Rip Van Winkle must have felt on waking up) that something significant had changed, without having a clue of what it was.
This time however I am seething with self-righteousness indignation .This is one of those rare times when I KNOW what the inputs were –well, because I briefed them myself. It is rather difficult to fall asleep when you are talking – not impossible, I know many good men and women who have mastered this art (not to be confused with those who put their listeners to sleep), but it is rather difficult.
And this discipline and restraint had paid off – for a change I know what the output we were expecting is. I’m not saying it’s is not there – it might be lying gasping for breath under the weight of all those ‘lexical’ words –however I am damned if I can find it. I have carefully waded through a document which, for all practical purposes is in a foreign language, and no luck.
I have tried to upwardly delegate it to my boss. Donned my best earnest-worker face and asked him whether he had read it and woefully told him I needed his wise guidance to understand something. Boss opened the document, read one paragraph, gave one strangled croak and has been playing Zuma Deluxe and avoiding me ever since .
Actually come to think of it, I can’t totally blame the BISP blokes altogether. My company seems to suffer from an argot (thought should use a dictionaried word to emphasize how contagious it is!) epidemic of mammoth proportions – so maybe they are just pandering to the client. Almost every meeting I have attended here, there are this bunch of senior gentlemen, whose only focus in meetings seems to be to out-bombast each other
I’m sorely tempted to play Buzzword Bingo and often longingly think of how the Queen of Hearts would have played it ( “Off with their heads” every time 'usability engineering process modelling' is mentioned ).
Reminds me of this wise saying from my advertising days – “If you can’t CONVINCE, CONFUSE!”
Coming back to bite me. Sigh.
Now, why am I sharing prehistoric stories of my childhood? Well, because for the last two days I have been wading through a proposal submitted by our so called Business Intelligence Strategic Partner (Even their NAME is in Jargonese for God’s sake) which I suspect has been put together much the same way.
Just to give an example, ONE sentence yesterday included the following words - syntactic, lexical, pragmatic, semantic and prototypical - all jostling each other in a haphazard manner, purportedly trying to convey some information to the reader. They even had a little graph with arrows going in various directions proclaiming coyly whether they were syntactic or semantic.
In the normal course of events – a document like this would have resulted in me, tying myself into knots, wondering whether this was some divine retribution for catnapping/daydreaming in the briefing meetings. I would assume that this document made complete lucid sense to all the other readers, and would be left with this uneasy, sinking feeling (akin to what Rip Van Winkle must have felt on waking up) that something significant had changed, without having a clue of what it was.
This time however I am seething with self-righteousness indignation .This is one of those rare times when I KNOW what the inputs were –well, because I briefed them myself. It is rather difficult to fall asleep when you are talking – not impossible, I know many good men and women who have mastered this art (not to be confused with those who put their listeners to sleep), but it is rather difficult.
And this discipline and restraint had paid off – for a change I know what the output we were expecting is. I’m not saying it’s is not there – it might be lying gasping for breath under the weight of all those ‘lexical’ words –however I am damned if I can find it. I have carefully waded through a document which, for all practical purposes is in a foreign language, and no luck.
I have tried to upwardly delegate it to my boss. Donned my best earnest-worker face and asked him whether he had read it and woefully told him I needed his wise guidance to understand something. Boss opened the document, read one paragraph, gave one strangled croak and has been playing Zuma Deluxe and avoiding me ever since .
Actually come to think of it, I can’t totally blame the BISP blokes altogether. My company seems to suffer from an argot (thought should use a dictionaried word to emphasize how contagious it is!) epidemic of mammoth proportions – so maybe they are just pandering to the client. Almost every meeting I have attended here, there are this bunch of senior gentlemen, whose only focus in meetings seems to be to out-bombast each other
I’m sorely tempted to play Buzzword Bingo and often longingly think of how the Queen of Hearts would have played it ( “Off with their heads” every time 'usability engineering process modelling' is mentioned ).
Reminds me of this wise saying from my advertising days – “If you can’t CONVINCE, CONFUSE!”
Coming back to bite me. Sigh.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Finding Francis
Eleven o clock on a dark wintry evening. Agent 011 with a frown on her face was sitting in the specially built, black-yellow supersonic car, clutching the documents close to herself.
Her mind flashed back to the conversation she had with her boss. Agent B. The Head of Intelligence operations in the organization and in the country.
The very ordinary, desiccated looking Agent B. Behind his rather inconsequential facade was a razor sharp mind that controlled some of the biggest brains in the country. The normally cynical and unflappable B was worried. One could see it by the way he paced up and down his cabin.
"This is the biggest thing to hit us in a long long time" he told Agent 011. "Have you any idea how big it is? Even the President is small change!"
The President. The mysterious man in the trademark hat. The man behind the scenes - the mastermind of the Organization. Second in command to the Chairman. One of the most powerful men the Organization has seen.
Agent B continued.” This has global implications. The future of our entire organization across the world is at stake." "Like us, ten countries across the world a similar top secret information collation has taken place. We need to get this information, the documents and the recording of the information to the global HQ in New York. Any errors, the documents falling into the hands of the enemy is curtains for us.”
"You need to identify the head of operations. Francis is his name and get this document and the evidence to him. Make sure you get it to HIS hands only and no one else. Francis is one of the cleverest people in the setup. He has been working undercover in **** (mentioned the codeword of the organization) He will ferry it to the right places. BUT" and a pause here.” You have to get it to him by midnight. By midnight, it has to reach him so that he can convey it to HQ by Friday. By midnight the shift also changes - so you will not be able to meet him and any delay spells doom."
"..And 011.."Agent 011 paused and looked up “It’s dangerous. There are spies everywhere. Be careful"
So here was Agent 011 sitting in the car going to pick up the recording from Agent 017 and Agent 021 who were at the top-secret underground estate located in an innocuous looking mill.
She looked up, out through the dark tinted glasses at the road. The terrain seemed unfamiliar.
Desolate and gloomy and a winding road that seemed to go nowhere. A few minutes of panic. Could there be an infiltrator? Was the man driving the car - the enemy? Looked at him. She had carefully selected him from the line of supersonic cars because his face was familiar and she was certain she had used him on a mission earlier. Decided to cross check anyways – everyone had their price!
Rapped against his seat - “Where are you going?"
"The place where you told Me."
"This is not the road. Is there another entryway to the place? What are the directions I gave you?"
The driver replied "It’s the same place!"
A look at the directions printed on the wireless indicated that there are two such locations in the city. The driver had gone to the wrong one. (Murphy operates even in super secret missions). Clock was ticking. Hurried messaging exchanged between the two agents and the driver skid to a stop, and rushed back in the other direction.
As luck would have it the shortest route was fraught with many obstacles that had to be crossed, the road was riddled with some sort of big craters as if some enemy had destroyed the expressways. The roads were abuzz with people – civilians’ maybe. But she thought not – they were probably counter espionage agents trying to retard her progress. And even at that time of the night, there were hordes of vehicles on the street commuting in a completely erratic manner which suggested a desire to self destruct.
Suddenly the car screeched to a halt. Agent 011 glanced at her watch while simultaneously making a lunge for the door.
Agent 017 was pacing up and down the stairway smoking cigarettes like a chimney. Not a good sign at all.
“What’s the matter?” agent 011 managed to rasp out “Where are the documents?”
“That moron agent 021 – he has gone and done something to the software. Everything has come to a grinding halt. I am sure he is related to the President or something. There is no other way he could have got a job in this place else blah blah blah”
017 continued his diatribe. Normally agent 011 would have been more than happy to join him in bashing up agent 021 – an embarrassment to the agency-(he had single handedly managed to goof up almost ungoofable projects). But there was no time. Francis had to be caught.
She rushed to the InfoTech hub- the top secret state of the art facility housed in the most unlikely place. Agent 021 was making bleating noises standing behind another agent (unknown to 011) who looked anything but happy to have him there.
“What’s the status 021?”
021 jumped – startled. “Oh they have just managed to start it up again – but it means a delay of half an hour”
011 cursed fluently under her breath. And then cursed some more. “We DO NOT have the luxury of half an hour. WHY THE beep-beep did you not do this earlier?” Turns to the other agent.” I am sorry – but maximum time we have is seven minutes.”
Joins 017 in pacing outside. 017 is still continuing his soliloquy on the utter incompetence of 021. 011 is almost tempted to poach a cigarette off him though she doesn’t smoke. No one warned her about the stress of joining an intelligence agency.
Whips out her communicator instead and tries to dial Francis. As luck will have it Francis is missing in action. Calls up his deputy and tells him about the delay. The deputy, who apparently has not been briefed about the documents, insists that Francis cannot be found and does not seem to realize the importance of getting the parcel to global headquarters on time.
011 jumps back inside. Unknown agent, fingers flying over the keyboard is trying to crash a half an hour process into a few minutes. Seven minutes come and go. 011 tries Francis again on the communicator. No luck. Contemplates calling Agent B but decides against it. By some magic unknown agent has managed to finish the work (in a record eleven minutes). Grabs the documents from him and sprints to the supersonic car. Agent 017 runs behind her and jumps into the front seat.
With a squeal of tires the car takes off. Again the road seems to have been destroyed in some mission. Desperately tries to get the location of Francis on GPRS. Ten minutes. Each moment is nerve-wracking. 017 is busy urging the driver to hurry. Driver sensibly points out that he cannot fly. 011 is taking deep breaths and calling upon the names of every God known to mankind to come to their aid.
Entry into the maze where Francis operations are conducted from. A labyrinth like place in pitch darkness. One lone man in the corner. 017 jumps out and runs to ask him the way.
Seven minutes later – both agents make a spectacularly hurried entrance (jumping from a moving car) into operations center. The time -11.57.
Ask for Francis. The deputy there looks at the disheveled agents and says “I think Francis has left”
Heart stopping moments for the agents. Then miraculously luck (FINALLY) decides to favor them. Francis himself walks out. Documents safely given to him. The time 11:59.
The world and the organization apparently will live to see another day.
(This was written about three years ago. To put it in context, this was for a Global new business pitch worth well LOTS of money by advertising standards. Agent 011, in addition to the sundry tasks in getting the country strategy in place had the all-important work of catching the 12 o clock courier (The elusive Mr. Francis) – as usual advertising people will ALWAYS work at the nth moment so getting the presentation and the films/recording to the courier was fraught with tension – apparently more than usually so – the resulting trauma led to this post)
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Continued from here - http://solitarycynic.rediffblogs.com/ ( since rediff has given up on me!)
All of last week has been chaotic – eighteen and twenty hour days and one memorable all-nighter at the agency.
This agency is located bang opposite a crematorium and if the people are to be believed, there is a spectral presence which haunts the ladies restroom.
During the night we spent there, it didn’t show its presence except for the fact that the AC in the conference room used to mysteriously be turned off every time the room was empty. The conclusion we drew therefore, was that it was an economical-minded ghost or someone with a low tolerance to cold (considering the way the damn room freezes, I am inclined to think it was the latter).
Strangely enough, my office (where I have also been working late) also has its own apparition – also in the ladies. (Apparently, the plot on which the buildings were built was an old gypsy burial ground). This lady haunts the last stall and consequently the plumbing never works (or so goes the myth).
One night I thought I would investigate – but when I went there, the place was in pitch darkness. So though I claim I don’t believe in ghosts, – I am not quite fool enough to be disproved (especially when I am the only person left in office)
Quite a curious coincidence I thought. That both the ghosts chose to favour the ladies room. So I did on online search and apparently it’s quite a common phenomenon across the globe – I saw articles of sightings in Japan, US, France.
So the question is why do lady ghosts like the ladies room?
Is it because the famed female narcissism spills over to the after life?
She-ghost: “Darling, do you think I am looking too pale and washed out today?”
He-ghost: “Uhm..er..uhm..”
Is it because that’s where the most interesting gossip is swapped?
Is it because it provides the ideal balance of solitude and company?
Is it because they like to clean themselves?
WHY!!!
All of last week has been chaotic – eighteen and twenty hour days and one memorable all-nighter at the agency.
This agency is located bang opposite a crematorium and if the people are to be believed, there is a spectral presence which haunts the ladies restroom.
During the night we spent there, it didn’t show its presence except for the fact that the AC in the conference room used to mysteriously be turned off every time the room was empty. The conclusion we drew therefore, was that it was an economical-minded ghost or someone with a low tolerance to cold (considering the way the damn room freezes, I am inclined to think it was the latter).
Strangely enough, my office (where I have also been working late) also has its own apparition – also in the ladies. (Apparently, the plot on which the buildings were built was an old gypsy burial ground). This lady haunts the last stall and consequently the plumbing never works (or so goes the myth).
One night I thought I would investigate – but when I went there, the place was in pitch darkness. So though I claim I don’t believe in ghosts, – I am not quite fool enough to be disproved (especially when I am the only person left in office)
Quite a curious coincidence I thought. That both the ghosts chose to favour the ladies room. So I did on online search and apparently it’s quite a common phenomenon across the globe – I saw articles of sightings in Japan, US, France.
So the question is why do lady ghosts like the ladies room?
Is it because the famed female narcissism spills over to the after life?
She-ghost: “Darling, do you think I am looking too pale and washed out today?”
He-ghost: “Uhm..er..uhm..”
Is it because that’s where the most interesting gossip is swapped?
Is it because it provides the ideal balance of solitude and company?
Is it because they like to clean themselves?
WHY!!!
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