“I didn’t even know what that presentation looked like, and she expected me to search it and transfer it to her laptop”, I said in a morose tone. It’d been a bad morning for me. I’d spent almost two hours going through some innumerable folders and subfolders of files and mails to find out that presentation. Finally I gave up, went up to my boss to tell her that I wasn’t lucky enough to trace that file.
“Manmeet, you know what she said, ‘I am sorry. It was there on my desktop. Thank you for your help. Can you do me one last favour- can you just get me a printout of that Chennai docket??’ I mimicked her and laughed out loudly and so did Manmeet as he knew that was exactly the same way she spoke. I could mimic any one. I have always enjoyed observing people and their behaviour as there is a lot of humor stored in there. It had never been an attempt to disgrace people with humour. My colleagues have always enjoyed and complimented me for it. The intention has always been to laugh at the situation and the strange behaviour one displays at that time rather than laugh at the person himself. This really made some very tense moments lighter.
“‘One last favour’ aisa lagta hai jaise dono mein se kisi ek ki…..I have started feeling a wave of chilly wind going down my spine at any of her search requests. I feel like being one of those search engines on the net. Kisi ne sach hi kaha tha ‘MBA is all about challenges’. It is as good as a treasure hunt”, I continued sarcastically.
“Chal yaar Raghu, chill maar aur khana kha”, said Manmeet as he continued to concentrate on his food.
Manmeet, nine years older to me, is a Sardar. I have had a lot of Surd friends during my Delhi days. With due respects to all Surds and Sikhs, I wouldn’t be joking or jesting either, if I say all Sardars to me looked one and the same. But this one was completely different. He was a simple chap with a very calm and composed exterior. Extremely knowledgeable, from mutual funds to real estate, from love marriages to arranged marriages, he knew all. From whatever discussions about life we had indulged in over a mug of beer some time back, I realized he is one of the very pragmatic personalities I have met in the recent days. He had joined in as the Brand Manager. Was more like a friend than a boss.
Manmeet and me had joined the organization the same day. Both of us got acquainted during an induction programme, an inevitable four day time pass activity conducted by the HR, to make their joinees familiar with the organization, their background, their culture and what not. (My apologies to any of the readers who happen to belong to the first family called HR, for referring the programme as a ‘time pass’ because I believe there would be one from the same family whose heart I would not like to break). I think I am digressing too often.
We hadn’t talked to each other much that time. It was only when we actually joined into our roles and figured out that ours was the same department that we started knowing each other better.
I slithered back into my thoughts and wondered if I could really make something out of the profile that was given to me. I think I should admit it wasn’t given to me, I had accepted it. I wasn’t sure if the profile would be intellectually stimulating enough to do justice to my capabilities. ‘Capabilities’- there could be no other word as misleading as this one. You actually can’t define this word because you yourself would never know what you would or could end up doing. Searching for files, making changes to presentations, taking printouts- was that all in store for an IIT-IIM grad. Things were in disarray and I feared if making a mark was difficult. I smiled to myself much to Manmeet’s curiosity.
“Kya hua has kyon raha hai?” said Manmeet.
“Kuch nahi”, I said.
Herd of people had started cramming the little cafeteria in groups. One could see around all enthusiastic souls discussing and laughing out their first half of the day with each other. If I were to explain in a typical retail lingo, this cafeteria was a small little 300 sq ft space, naturally lit, adorned with friendly ambience and had huge footfalls during peak hours. It had some six to seven tables that could accommodate at most forty people out of a staff strength of hundred. Some preferred food standing as they didn’t have patience and time to wait for a table to get empty. Most of these looked highly preoccupied with the work that had to be abandoned for some thing as stupid as having lunch. These ‘people’ usually preferred to have sandwiches and soups as that could be stuffed in quickly and thus a huge amount of time could be saved. The most miser ones, ordered the same stuff in their cabins at odd times to save an additional couple of minutes.
We were sitting by the corner table with our backs to a white board that had the day’s thali menu written on it. I remember my first day when I’d had my lunch sitting there just in front of the board. People had started lumbering into the cafeteria as usual. Every time someone entered, he came up to me, stared and went off. Everyone did that- big stern bosses, blabbering beautiful girls. That was something very surprising and embarassing too. It was getting mysterious. I wouldn’t be more embarrassed to say that I actually thought they were curious to know who I wassssssss since I had joined in lately.
By then, Rashmi and Subbu had entered the place and moved towards the food line. Everyone had to line up in that very ‘little’ space to wait for their opportunity to ask for food. But believe me no one really had any qualms about the place at least not me. Sooner or later we were supposed to shift to our all new office that was worth thousand crores rupees. I heard someone mention that.
Food was decent. Any comment on food would start a new thread of arguments so better stay away. I have always noticed and truly felt that we have got this habit of always criticizing the present and praising the past. It’s very true for food if not anything else. I have heard a lot of this sort like, “Yaar udhar ka khana accha tha yeh kya hai ???” or “Hum khana to color dekh kar pehchante hai.”. Believe me the same present food would become delicacy to us when we move on to somewhere else.
Subbu and Rashmi joined us with their food plates.
“Aur ho gaya aapka kaam, Child SKU and Mother SKU. Are all promotions well and running fine??” I said and everyone burst into laughter. Both these people worked in the same team as we and looked after In Store Promotions.
Before we could figure out who else was missing except Rahul and Shweta both of whom were out for a meeting, in scurried Sheela and in her typical feminine child like manner said, “Eh… tum mere ko bula nahi sakte the kya?” She had a soup bowl with two ‘kachories’ in her hands. For a minute I thought she was on dieting but as soon as the minute ticked its last second she had got the whole main course thali.
As everyone settled down to eat, I repeated the whole story that I told Manmeet few minutes back. They found it interesting. People by then had realized I had a lot more stories to tell whether it be my local train experiences, my Bihar sales stunts during my short stint, my current fire fighting and many more. They were always in an anticipation to know how my day went with a hope that I would have something funny to narrate.
Everyone was laughing when all of sudden a sharp, heavy, young, feminine voice shot from a table straight in front of ours, “Mala don chapatya dya..”. It was Marathi. It meant “Give me two rotis.” Being a Marathi myself it caught my immediate attention. The voice was very different. To make your understanding simpler, it was something very similar to Rani Mukerjee’s voice. So it was Rani’s voice. It had a distinctive command and exuberance that could make an impact even in that noisy crowd.
There was group of five young girls who sat around the table in front of ours. Whose was it? Before I could figure out where that voice emanated from, I remembered I had to provide printouts of the Chennai Docket to my boss. I scampered out after dumping my plate in the dish landing crate.
“Manmeet, you know what she said, ‘I am sorry. It was there on my desktop. Thank you for your help. Can you do me one last favour- can you just get me a printout of that Chennai docket??’ I mimicked her and laughed out loudly and so did Manmeet as he knew that was exactly the same way she spoke. I could mimic any one. I have always enjoyed observing people and their behaviour as there is a lot of humor stored in there. It had never been an attempt to disgrace people with humour. My colleagues have always enjoyed and complimented me for it. The intention has always been to laugh at the situation and the strange behaviour one displays at that time rather than laugh at the person himself. This really made some very tense moments lighter.
“‘One last favour’ aisa lagta hai jaise dono mein se kisi ek ki…..I have started feeling a wave of chilly wind going down my spine at any of her search requests. I feel like being one of those search engines on the net. Kisi ne sach hi kaha tha ‘MBA is all about challenges’. It is as good as a treasure hunt”, I continued sarcastically.
“Chal yaar Raghu, chill maar aur khana kha”, said Manmeet as he continued to concentrate on his food.
Manmeet, nine years older to me, is a Sardar. I have had a lot of Surd friends during my Delhi days. With due respects to all Surds and Sikhs, I wouldn’t be joking or jesting either, if I say all Sardars to me looked one and the same. But this one was completely different. He was a simple chap with a very calm and composed exterior. Extremely knowledgeable, from mutual funds to real estate, from love marriages to arranged marriages, he knew all. From whatever discussions about life we had indulged in over a mug of beer some time back, I realized he is one of the very pragmatic personalities I have met in the recent days. He had joined in as the Brand Manager. Was more like a friend than a boss.
Manmeet and me had joined the organization the same day. Both of us got acquainted during an induction programme, an inevitable four day time pass activity conducted by the HR, to make their joinees familiar with the organization, their background, their culture and what not. (My apologies to any of the readers who happen to belong to the first family called HR, for referring the programme as a ‘time pass’ because I believe there would be one from the same family whose heart I would not like to break). I think I am digressing too often.
We hadn’t talked to each other much that time. It was only when we actually joined into our roles and figured out that ours was the same department that we started knowing each other better.
I slithered back into my thoughts and wondered if I could really make something out of the profile that was given to me. I think I should admit it wasn’t given to me, I had accepted it. I wasn’t sure if the profile would be intellectually stimulating enough to do justice to my capabilities. ‘Capabilities’- there could be no other word as misleading as this one. You actually can’t define this word because you yourself would never know what you would or could end up doing. Searching for files, making changes to presentations, taking printouts- was that all in store for an IIT-IIM grad. Things were in disarray and I feared if making a mark was difficult. I smiled to myself much to Manmeet’s curiosity.
“Kya hua has kyon raha hai?” said Manmeet.
“Kuch nahi”, I said.
Herd of people had started cramming the little cafeteria in groups. One could see around all enthusiastic souls discussing and laughing out their first half of the day with each other. If I were to explain in a typical retail lingo, this cafeteria was a small little 300 sq ft space, naturally lit, adorned with friendly ambience and had huge footfalls during peak hours. It had some six to seven tables that could accommodate at most forty people out of a staff strength of hundred. Some preferred food standing as they didn’t have patience and time to wait for a table to get empty. Most of these looked highly preoccupied with the work that had to be abandoned for some thing as stupid as having lunch. These ‘people’ usually preferred to have sandwiches and soups as that could be stuffed in quickly and thus a huge amount of time could be saved. The most miser ones, ordered the same stuff in their cabins at odd times to save an additional couple of minutes.
We were sitting by the corner table with our backs to a white board that had the day’s thali menu written on it. I remember my first day when I’d had my lunch sitting there just in front of the board. People had started lumbering into the cafeteria as usual. Every time someone entered, he came up to me, stared and went off. Everyone did that- big stern bosses, blabbering beautiful girls. That was something very surprising and embarassing too. It was getting mysterious. I wouldn’t be more embarrassed to say that I actually thought they were curious to know who I wassssssss since I had joined in lately.
By then, Rashmi and Subbu had entered the place and moved towards the food line. Everyone had to line up in that very ‘little’ space to wait for their opportunity to ask for food. But believe me no one really had any qualms about the place at least not me. Sooner or later we were supposed to shift to our all new office that was worth thousand crores rupees. I heard someone mention that.
Food was decent. Any comment on food would start a new thread of arguments so better stay away. I have always noticed and truly felt that we have got this habit of always criticizing the present and praising the past. It’s very true for food if not anything else. I have heard a lot of this sort like, “Yaar udhar ka khana accha tha yeh kya hai ???” or “Hum khana to color dekh kar pehchante hai.”. Believe me the same present food would become delicacy to us when we move on to somewhere else.
Subbu and Rashmi joined us with their food plates.
“Aur ho gaya aapka kaam, Child SKU and Mother SKU. Are all promotions well and running fine??” I said and everyone burst into laughter. Both these people worked in the same team as we and looked after In Store Promotions.
Before we could figure out who else was missing except Rahul and Shweta both of whom were out for a meeting, in scurried Sheela and in her typical feminine child like manner said, “Eh… tum mere ko bula nahi sakte the kya?” She had a soup bowl with two ‘kachories’ in her hands. For a minute I thought she was on dieting but as soon as the minute ticked its last second she had got the whole main course thali.
As everyone settled down to eat, I repeated the whole story that I told Manmeet few minutes back. They found it interesting. People by then had realized I had a lot more stories to tell whether it be my local train experiences, my Bihar sales stunts during my short stint, my current fire fighting and many more. They were always in an anticipation to know how my day went with a hope that I would have something funny to narrate.
Everyone was laughing when all of sudden a sharp, heavy, young, feminine voice shot from a table straight in front of ours, “Mala don chapatya dya..”. It was Marathi. It meant “Give me two rotis.” Being a Marathi myself it caught my immediate attention. The voice was very different. To make your understanding simpler, it was something very similar to Rani Mukerjee’s voice. So it was Rani’s voice. It had a distinctive command and exuberance that could make an impact even in that noisy crowd.
There was group of five young girls who sat around the table in front of ours. Whose was it? Before I could figure out where that voice emanated from, I remembered I had to provide printouts of the Chennai Docket to my boss. I scampered out after dumping my plate in the dish landing crate.
to be continued....
