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Archive for August, 2011|Monthly archive page

Cube and Culpa

In Coffee Mug, humor, Interpersonal, Office, Wage Slaves on August 31, 2011 at 12:55

You are impressed by your own ability to find bright spots in the dim-lit terrain of the galley. So what if your previous ray of hope turned out to be a flickering flash light? Something about how hard one falls and gets up…you either heard it in Rocky V/VI or in the training program last wasted weekend. Either way, it sounds right and positive.

The new bright spot is called Nina and she seems to go about with a halo around her, the kind they show in fairness cream ads. Her voice is not delivered in the monotone you are used to from fellow slaves. Her attire shows more imagination than most inmates who have a fixed dress for every weekday. And she possesses a non-borrowed sense of humor. It is a combination so rare that coincidence alone cannot claim credit for it.

So what if she is in legal, a department you have never had to correspond with? Over the past two months, a record number of legal queries have sprung up. Over these two months, you have discovered functionalities on your intercom and IM you never knew existed. You are convinced of the feasibility of your persual. If she were not hip with the interest, she would have gone sour on you by now, right?

Serendipitous run-ins at the copier aside, you finally manage a coffee tête-à-tête. It is less apparent than a date and more relaxed than a meeting. You are jittery but pleasant, she is calm but unyielding. It is all flowing well, like a freshly cartriged printer untill…you notice her hand on the cup of caffeine.

The ring on her ring finger is as unmistakable as a paper jam and as disappointing as blocked site. The sparkle of the stone on her ring is in stark contrast to the gloom you will be returining to from tomorrow. You manage to waddle through rest of the tête-à-tête without asking her. There will be lots of time for that over IM. You may not have found a new bright spot but you have found a rarer species called a new friend.

You say Mea Culpa to yourself and move on. ‘Tis better to have tried and looked stupid than to have never tried at all.

– J.

A Case of the Mondays

In day of creation, high altitude, humor, inanimate object, Monday, music system, Office, Wage Slaves on August 22, 2011 at 02:42

With your bed pushed against the wall, there is only one side you can get up on. That throws ‘the wrong side of the bed’ phrase out of the window.

…except, if the one side left to get up from is the wrong side. A scary thought. But its just as well to blame an inanimate object because you feel like killing someone today!

If you thought you were running late before, have a look at the traffic ahead. This could only mean one thing…

It is…a Monday (the horror¡)

 

If only you had gotten up five minutes early, you would not have missed your 7.45. But someone had to stay up till late. Someone had to salvage a Sunday lost to lethargy. And now someone will have to pay.

As you hang on in the crowded bus, more and more wage slaves pack in, looking similarly miffed. Yes, the bus has AC but it is huffing and puffing like an asthmatic at high altitude. Yes the bus has a music system, but they are playing ‘Linkin Park‘ on MIDI. As you move into an increasingly uncomfortable stance to avoid squeezing against fat aunties, you can’t help but think: this is a good time for an out-of-body-experience!

When you finally get down, you feel like you have just finished running a marathon with bricks on your back, and no shoes. You are late but you have to punch in. By the time you reach your workstation, 4 colleagues have wished you good morning, 3 have handed you pending files and 1 gave a you a stare. All you could give in return was a look that said, ‘What the pudding did you have for breakfast!’

 

It can only go downhill from here. Your worst fears of the lack of positive thinking are about to come true. After your seventh unsuccessful attempt at signing in to your mailbox, you throw in the towel.

 

You switch off the monitor, get up and walk out into a sick live. At least, you will live to fight another Monday.

– J.

My Chair

In Coffee Mug, Hiearchy, Hopsquatch, humor, Office, Organisation, Quick Sand, Table Fan on August 15, 2011 at 03:45

You have been together since the time your memory is foggy. She has always been there, supporting your wild pitches and cushioning your falls. You have seen 2 rounds of restructuring and 3 Presidents come and go. Exchange rates have halved, GDPs have doubled and the continents are few more inches apart. But you still find her every day you wake.

She off course is your chair, blindly loyal to you, as you are to your employer. It knows you, it understands, it cares. It knows you fear intimacy and like familiarity. In turn, you fight to keep her yours. No one dares lay claim to it, even in your absence for a quick meeting. You mark her with signs of your togetherness and adorn her with accessories. She is unmistakable, even from a distance.

Along with your personalized table fan, your coffee mug and your computer system, your chair represents a self propagated gravitational field, forceful and hard to resist. Like a black hole, it sucks you in and escape seems too difficult to even attempt.

 

Consistency through a different mirror also looks like lack of progress. The length of your back rest represents the obesity of your pay check. And your back rest needs a lot of propping up. Beyond these gallows lie other enclosures with other chairs, more ergonomic, with better colors and cushioned arm rests. And they are waiting to be-throne you. If only you could escape the quick sand of slow procrastination. So wake up and smell the Styrofoam! It is time to shed your security blanket, shun the familiar warmth of your chair and move on. I am sure she will understand.

  

–          J.

Super Me

In Boss, Dick Cheney, Goats on the Farm, Head Slave, humor, Office, Technology, Two Syllables on August 7, 2011 at 23:19

You: John who?

JY: John Yan

You: You changed your name?

JY: No, John Yan is my username.

You: Who will use it?

You know what he means but you still want to be sure. Maybe paraphrasing it will convince him of its ridiculousness.

But John is convinced that despite his high BMI, adding two syllables and a consonant to his common last name will bestow him with uncommon coolness.

Online, everyone is Boss

 JY: ”You know, like Jackie Chan or Jet Lee. It is exotic…yet familiar.”

John Yan paused for effect; he was acting like a star already!

On a different yet predictable weekday, you learn another taxonomic quirk:

When your boss signed off mails simply as ‘- BS’, you always thought he was telling you not to waste on your time on it…coz it is BS!

But when others start addressing you in their syntax-starved mails as AD, you realize that BS is not what you think it is. It is Head Slave‘s initials!

You don’t know whether to feel stupid or scoff at their typographical terseness.

It is clear to you that your Pan Card name will just not cut it in the virtual world of augmented reality!

Over time, you get used to getting updates such as:

Hellzangel adores her two baby goats on the farm

Handsomedevilfromhell wants you to share his booty, click here

And

Dear AD,

Thank you for the appreciation letter. Looking forward to more – BS

You start referring to these savvy individuals by their nuked names with a badly disguised genuineness. It is like addressing Dick Cheney with his lawful Christian first name. At least you can afford a chuckle every time you get pinged.

– J.