Part 2: 90% true
Today, I am in a good mood for some reason, and when good mood comes to me, as rarely as a gold coin comes to a beggar, I usually relish it too much and hence destroy it. But the good mood is not yet destroyed and if I were to be on time at my office I need to leave my house now. I can hear happy birds chirping outside my house in the early morning freshness of the Garden City and it makes me cheerful. Before I leave, catch this piece of information as I fling it at you; My office is only 14 kilometers away and it takes me 1 hour and 45 minutes to reach. Yes, one hour and 45 minutes each day, each direction. Here is another part of the information, I am the only localite (Bangalorean) in my team and despite the others staying in apartments very near the office (5 minute walk usually), I am the only one who consistently arrives on time. Every day, every single day I have stepped into my office, I have found that I am the only one on time, who having driven through the thick black and cancerous exhaust smoke of a thousand congested vehicles, still does not get appreciated or even acknowledged for the death defying efforts.
I have not even left my house and my good mood, which came to me as a gift from my own mind, is already gone, and I am left reeling in its aftermath, kind of like a hangover. Fuck this shit. You get me? Good mood my balls, how the fuck can I be in a good mood if I have to drive for more than 3 hours each day (through that bitch of a traffic and smoke) just to go and slave for someone? Fuck this shit!!! The birds chirping outside my house now seems to me like a bunch of angry adult-kids fighting and I want to shoo them away. Anyways, I don’t want to be late and I need to leave, so see you in my office, fucker.
He wades through the dreaded traffic of Silk Board and Whitefield, driving his moped sometimes on foot paths, and jumping traffic signals and almost getting run over by buses.
I reached my office ten minutes late and it so happened that day that all my team mates were on time and I was the only one who was late. Apparently, there was a KT session and an important one that too, and everyone had been instructed to be on time, the previous day. And I had to be late today, of all days, when all others were surprisingly on time.
I reached the 29th floor and found that it was half empty. I knew then, that they were all in the conference room #8, which is usually where the important meetings take place and is the most spacious of the meeting rooms on the floor. I slipped in silently, trying to go unnoticed, but my manager, who was sitting in the back and listening in on the speaker (who was giving the KT), saw me and asked me in a seemingly annoyed whisper,
‘Why are you late?’
‘Traffic.’ I replied ernestly.
‘Leave early then,’ he said in a louder whisper which was heard by few of my team mates sitting inside a 5-foot radius and the proof of this is that they turned and giggled at me.
I did not reply to this. To be honest, I felt truly heartbroken that day, as I had felt each day seeing his face, but that day when he said that, it really shattered my peace. My manager is a funny guy, no doubt he has had years of experience (some say he has three hundred and thirty three years of work experience), never ever came on time, never. What bothered me most, was that he stayed right next to the office complex and he could (if he wanted to) simply roll out of bed and find himself in the office of the 29th floor, to drive my point home, if he were to, say, throw a stone (even barely) from his house, it would have overshot the office. And the fact that he had never ever even spared an inkling of a fuck about the truly inhuman traffic conditions of Bangalore I fought through every single working day, sometimes almost getting myself killed (not even kidding) just to be on time, made me want to puke on his neatly groomed face. But I held it back and saved it for another day, because I deemed that it would have been a waste of my puke.
It was time to put away the bad thoughts and tune in to the KT session. I had not noticed the speaker giving the Knowledge Transfer until now, and when I saw her, my heart skipped a beat for she was truly beautiful and elegant. Before I say anything about her, one thing you need to know (the only thing you need to know) about Knowledge Transfer sessions is that the only knowledge that will be transferred in the said session is the knowledge that there will be no knowledge to transfer. KT sessions are as unproductive as old people’s laughter club in the parks of Bangalore, all they do is make loud noises for others to notice, tell me who is really laughing?
So this lady, who was giving the KT, as I said earlier, was beautiful looking and elegant. She seemed very smart and sophisticated in her formal attire, but when I tuned in to what she was saying and how she was saying it, my mind made the following conclusions; she no longer seemed beautiful, elegant, smart nor sophisticated. She had apparently been in the US office all these days (for just under 9 months), and had been sent to India to do, to this day I have no clue what she was sent to do. When I tuned in, this is what she was saying,
‘…I waunt tu toak abaout somtin rrealy importnt..’ Her faked accent was horrible and I wondered if I was the only one taking issue with it. If I have not told this before, now is probably a good time, I hate people who try and fake the US accent, and as I have seen in my corporate career, literally every woman (it seems only the good looking women are sent to the US office) who goes there comes back with a fake accent.
I know, I know, it seems I am trying to generalize and stereotype people. I agree and if I can add, the corporate world is filled with stereotypes and there is nothing I can do other than report it. Yes, most of the people who go there come back with a fake accent, yes the people staying closest to the office are always the ones who come in late (except today), yes the managers are always idiots who have no concern for your well being, and so on so forth, you can add yours. I wish the stereotypes could be untrue but the people who fuel these stereotypes (like that lady and my manager) are the people who are most comfortable living it. So forgive me, but I am just reporting what I am seeing.
So, giving up all hopes of having a good rest of the day, I tuned out and started day dreaming… I was at 16,569 feet and a few hours from the Himalayan top and my face was severely wind battered and stiff but my spirit was high and my determination to conquer the peak was unflinching…when my manager snapped me out of it.
‘Pay attention. You have been asked for a one-on-one KT with her after this meeting. ’ He said.
And suddenly and strangely, the lady once again seemed beautiful, elegant, smart and sophisticated. I pictured myself marrying her and having a dozen corporate kids, and this I found out later was the same thought running in all my teammate’s minds (probably even my manager’s) and just like that I showed you another stereotype; the corporate world is filled with people who are lonely and desperate. This stereotype just like the others is 90% true. As you will see in the later narration, there are so many gems, genuinely amazing people in the corporate world, but the sheer number of the stereotypical fucks, makes the good ones seem rare and almost mystical.
The circle had started to circle and I had yet again been distracted by something or someone. One more unlived day lost to the past. As I strode into a smaller meeting room, next, for the one-on-one KT with the beauty, I cursed myself, that I was so easily gullible and kicked myself for being happy at the mere chance of sitting in a room all alone with a beautiful woman. What about my dreams? When will they ever be realized? I concluded that I was sadly a part of the 90%, being another stereotype myself. I was no better than all the idiots I described here, and if ever I had to do something about it, I had to first stop staring at her beautiful breasts. And that has been the two hardest things to do.
Part 3 is out!
