Anger and sadness
bleary eyed madness
candid shots
Story of love priceless junk
relentless berating, finding and feeling
believing, hating
Bonfires and terrace trains unbearable
laughter, monkey on the window's
broken leg,
and a broken heart. Falling apart.
15 January, 2011
14 January, 2011
The Cubicle Adventures (Part II)
So there is a cubicle. And every work-day confined to its mind numbing space, is a whole new (mis)adventure. Part 1 (I honestly din't think this could run into a Part II, but I also din't know a whole load of other stuff that is "corporate culture", so, ha.) was mostly about a routine day at work. Part II, is what NOT TO DO in your cubicle. These are the words that are a product of learning the hard way. It's stuff I have to remind myself everyday as i inch closer and closer to that blasted cubicle. And having it written down somewhere might help, i thought.
DO NOT leave chocolates lying on your desk. the cubicle maybe yours, but there people that eat your chocolate without your permission, as you watch, too shocked to react. And pretend like it does not matter , is no big deal at all. It is. A very big deal. But apparently only to me. Goodbye dark chocolate, i'm sure you would have been lovely, had i known you.
DO NOT log in to any social networking site from the cubicle. People will feel free to gawk at whatever pictures are displayed like you are a freak alien and not an average human. They will also feel free to comment on how "weird" you look, making you wonder if it is advisable to leave any pictures of your(weird) self on any said site.
DO NOT leave your ID card on your desk. Your megalomaniac superior will hide it. (juvenile behaviour? haha. Leadership qualities you see.) And upon realising that you do not care two hoots that your id card is missing, will give it back, and give you a lecture (throughout which you stare flabbergasted). Icing on the cake? Hiding the ID card was to show you that your ID card needs to be on you and not on the desk.
Corporate India, I might depend on you for a job, but you don't own me, and i refuse to wear something around my neck because I am not your slave. Megalomaniac superior or not.
DO NOT, even think, that you can have a phone conversation without people listening to you the whole time, and intently at that, without even blinking. I didn't think me telling my sister where the house keys are, can make for such an interesting conversation that people ignore work and give you their whole undivided attention. More than 5 people. For more than 5 minutes. It can be very disconcerting. It is advisable to text anybody who attempts to call you.
And DO NOT, ever , try to have a conversation, via IM. Or if you do, be prepared to have peeping toms look intently at your screen, blatantly invading your cubicle-space. And then ask you a billion gazillion questions.
I haven't yet found out a single good thing i can do in the cubicle. And no, work does not fall in that category.
DO NOT leave chocolates lying on your desk. the cubicle maybe yours, but there people that eat your chocolate without your permission, as you watch, too shocked to react. And pretend like it does not matter , is no big deal at all. It is. A very big deal. But apparently only to me. Goodbye dark chocolate, i'm sure you would have been lovely, had i known you.
DO NOT log in to any social networking site from the cubicle. People will feel free to gawk at whatever pictures are displayed like you are a freak alien and not an average human. They will also feel free to comment on how "weird" you look, making you wonder if it is advisable to leave any pictures of your(weird) self on any said site.
DO NOT leave your ID card on your desk. Your megalomaniac superior will hide it. (juvenile behaviour? haha. Leadership qualities you see.) And upon realising that you do not care two hoots that your id card is missing, will give it back, and give you a lecture (throughout which you stare flabbergasted). Icing on the cake? Hiding the ID card was to show you that your ID card needs to be on you and not on the desk.
Corporate India, I might depend on you for a job, but you don't own me, and i refuse to wear something around my neck because I am not your slave. Megalomaniac superior or not.
DO NOT, even think, that you can have a phone conversation without people listening to you the whole time, and intently at that, without even blinking. I didn't think me telling my sister where the house keys are, can make for such an interesting conversation that people ignore work and give you their whole undivided attention. More than 5 people. For more than 5 minutes. It can be very disconcerting. It is advisable to text anybody who attempts to call you.
And DO NOT, ever , try to have a conversation, via IM. Or if you do, be prepared to have peeping toms look intently at your screen, blatantly invading your cubicle-space. And then ask you a billion gazillion questions.
I haven't yet found out a single good thing i can do in the cubicle. And no, work does not fall in that category.
12 January, 2011
10 January, 2011
monday morning blues kick in big and bad, the cubicle adventures are a whole big misadventure, and to top it all falling sick somehow sneaks into the agenda.
when you cannot breathe through your nose, you're shivering like a leaf, the computer decides to test your patience, people decide to see how many of those snide remarks you can endure, when cooking is not therapeutic anymore but a really tough chore, and auto drivers pick that particular day to be ruder than usual, the electricity board decides there has been enough light in your life, you run out coffee, and you want to simply run away...
you listen to dave matthews band,
you listen to "crush" a million times, soak in the music..breathe as deeply as you possibly can...
and then you say screw it all.
and sing out loud till you drown out the world.
when you cannot breathe through your nose, you're shivering like a leaf, the computer decides to test your patience, people decide to see how many of those snide remarks you can endure, when cooking is not therapeutic anymore but a really tough chore, and auto drivers pick that particular day to be ruder than usual, the electricity board decides there has been enough light in your life, you run out coffee, and you want to simply run away...
you listen to dave matthews band,
you listen to "crush" a million times, soak in the music..breathe as deeply as you possibly can...
and then you say screw it all.
and sing out loud till you drown out the world.
The Cubicle Adventure
For months I sat home, scoffing at people who complained of Monday Morning Blues. Little did I know that it would hit me too, and how. Sunday is gone way too soon and as the dreaded monday morning approaches, i'm beginning to realise that my cursed cubicle awaits me. I can always picture those chairs, and in my imagination, they always seem to have an evil sneering smile plastered across their seats, for having me trapped there monday through friday.
There are quite a few hard workers where i work, diligently slogging to earn their bread and butter, loyal to the employers, reverential in their attitude to work. But MY cubicle adventure isn't anything remotely like the above.
This is how a regular work day would go:
Anywhere between 9.20 to 10.10 : Walk in like a zombie, throw stuff down, turn on computer, stare, curse the day you signed the offer letter. Fill water bottle.
10. 15 : Trudge upstairs and get that wonderfully energising cup of south indian filter coffee. (If anybody asks me what the absolute best thing about my job is, i would very unhesitatingly say, filter coffee.)
10.30 to 11.30 : Now this one needs a bit of a recap. You see most evenings, i invariably begin to contemplate just WHERE I'm headed with this job deal etc etc, and conclude that I should not complain, and its not the job i'm in, but how good i am in the job i'm in etc etc blah blah bleh; you know how those "pep talks to self" sessions are! So 10.30 to 11.30 is the time I actually put it to good use. Jab those ancient keys a little harder, squint at the monitor some more, try to be the diligent employee. I even have a maniacal look especially for this time of the day. Ha!
11.30 to 12 ish : anticipate lunch. fidget. fill the water bottle.
12 ish : Lunch! Yay!
... to 1 something : nobody works, and it is SUCH a put off that i just sit and stare at the computer and curse some more.
1 something to 3 : The alt-tab period. N, a good friend, and a genius work ethics expert, taught me this very valuable lesson very early on, first week at my first job. "hitting the alt-tab keys multiple times makes it look like you're hard at work. Do that for a bit and meet me at the TT table." I send him chocolates at regular intervals even now, although the days of hours spent at foosball n TT tables are long gone. The "alt-tab move" saves me every time the hawk eyed megalomaniac superior makes the routine (and VERY creepy) over the shoulder checks.
3 to 4 : This is the time when i actually feel like earning my pay, and therefore, this happens to be the time that i absolutely cannot. I am forced to go on a "break" despite repeatedly pleading and pointing at the computer. Another shot of caffeine. Fill the water bottle.
4 to 5 : work.work.work. sigh. rub eyes. look for people online. work.work.curse.
5 to 6 : fidget. look at clock. curse. fidget some more. fill water bottle.
"fill water bottle" appearing too many times in this post is not a typo or disorganized writing on my part. It is the best excuse to walk out of the cubicle, head held high, water bottle in hand. Having a water bottle is the smartest investment you can make. Carry it around so you can go to the pantry and "bump into a friend" for a chat. Needless to say, I treasure my sipper more than any other work-accessory (?).
6 PM : fidget. fidget. pick up bag. run.
Monday through Friday, the cubicle adventures continue.
There are quite a few hard workers where i work, diligently slogging to earn their bread and butter, loyal to the employers, reverential in their attitude to work. But MY cubicle adventure isn't anything remotely like the above.
This is how a regular work day would go:
Anywhere between 9.20 to 10.10 : Walk in like a zombie, throw stuff down, turn on computer, stare, curse the day you signed the offer letter. Fill water bottle.
10. 15 : Trudge upstairs and get that wonderfully energising cup of south indian filter coffee. (If anybody asks me what the absolute best thing about my job is, i would very unhesitatingly say, filter coffee.)
10.30 to 11.30 : Now this one needs a bit of a recap. You see most evenings, i invariably begin to contemplate just WHERE I'm headed with this job deal etc etc, and conclude that I should not complain, and its not the job i'm in, but how good i am in the job i'm in etc etc blah blah bleh; you know how those "pep talks to self" sessions are! So 10.30 to 11.30 is the time I actually put it to good use. Jab those ancient keys a little harder, squint at the monitor some more, try to be the diligent employee. I even have a maniacal look especially for this time of the day. Ha!
11.30 to 12 ish : anticipate lunch. fidget. fill the water bottle.
12 ish : Lunch! Yay!
... to 1 something : nobody works, and it is SUCH a put off that i just sit and stare at the computer and curse some more.
1 something to 3 : The alt-tab period. N, a good friend, and a genius work ethics expert, taught me this very valuable lesson very early on, first week at my first job. "hitting the alt-tab keys multiple times makes it look like you're hard at work. Do that for a bit and meet me at the TT table." I send him chocolates at regular intervals even now, although the days of hours spent at foosball n TT tables are long gone. The "alt-tab move" saves me every time the hawk eyed megalomaniac superior makes the routine (and VERY creepy) over the shoulder checks.
3 to 4 : This is the time when i actually feel like earning my pay, and therefore, this happens to be the time that i absolutely cannot. I am forced to go on a "break" despite repeatedly pleading and pointing at the computer. Another shot of caffeine. Fill the water bottle.
4 to 5 : work.work.work. sigh. rub eyes. look for people online. work.work.curse.
5 to 6 : fidget. look at clock. curse. fidget some more. fill water bottle.
"fill water bottle" appearing too many times in this post is not a typo or disorganized writing on my part. It is the best excuse to walk out of the cubicle, head held high, water bottle in hand. Having a water bottle is the smartest investment you can make. Carry it around so you can go to the pantry and "bump into a friend" for a chat. Needless to say, I treasure my sipper more than any other work-accessory (?).
6 PM : fidget. fidget. pick up bag. run.
Monday through Friday, the cubicle adventures continue.
04 January, 2011
To be fair, to the cab-driver community, cab rides are not half bad on the way back. Especially when I used to travel at 2 in the night, everyday (or is it every-night? even when your day began at 4 PM?). And something about late nights seems to bring out the absolute best in cab drivers, they are an enthusiastic and happy lot post midnight, belting music out those wonderfully tinny radios they all seem to have (consequently making me raise the volume on my ipod to ear shattering levels; i do NOT want to listen to "chitranna chitranna" in the middle of the night.)
Blissfully empty roads, music on the ipod, the wind trying to pull you away into the night by tugging at your hair, and it always seemed like the cab driver was navigating the road to the tune of the music in my head. Heady stuff that.
But then, those were the days, when midnight jaunts for pastries and ice cream were routine. Heady midnight cab rides are now a thing of the past, sacrificed for the sake of the 9 to 5 grind. The 7 PM cab ride back home with the snarling traffic, angry as hell cab driver and the honking and even the occasional snake-spotting, simply does not compare.
If only i knew that those rides were not going to be a lasting affair. And if only you never had to grow up.
Blissfully empty roads, music on the ipod, the wind trying to pull you away into the night by tugging at your hair, and it always seemed like the cab driver was navigating the road to the tune of the music in my head. Heady stuff that.
But then, those were the days, when midnight jaunts for pastries and ice cream were routine. Heady midnight cab rides are now a thing of the past, sacrificed for the sake of the 9 to 5 grind. The 7 PM cab ride back home with the snarling traffic, angry as hell cab driver and the honking and even the occasional snake-spotting, simply does not compare.
If only i knew that those rides were not going to be a lasting affair. And if only you never had to grow up.
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