Tag: workaholics

Sometimes it takes ketchup to bring us together.

It was 2 pm at the office, and everyone was busy staring into their computer screens. On one corner were a few Windows users sitting by the window, sneaking glances down at the barren streets; anything is distraction. On another corner were the few Mac users, caressing their fingers over delicate keys. They all knew the value of metal, the value of technology.

Time crept away. From 2 pm, to 2.30, and 3.30 and then at last, 4.00 pm.

Like a bunch of young girls hypnotized by a famous boy band, they rose from their places. It was time to take a break from the monitors. They grabbed their smartphones instead and headed towards the pantry for a cup of coffee and something to munch on. Some of them queued up, while some others hung around in the pantry, all of them checking their phones for updates from friends, colleagues and loved ones.

Ah ha. There’s a funny video a colleague had shared — they hit Like and moved a step closer to the vending machine.

In walked a maintenance staff, her arms laden with a tray of steamy samosas. As soon as the scent spread across the pantry, everyone darted their eyes from their mobiles just in time to crowd around the snack tray. They all grabbed a samosa — or two — and stepped back, with a questioning glance at the staff. She stared back, nonplussed, and in complete wonder.

As more and more people turned a glaring eye at her, she grew visibly uncomfortable. One young man decided to ask, “Sauce?”

Oh, right! She hit herself on the head and rushed out of the pantry. The young man and many others shook their heads in exasperation. With the few minutes’ break they had, the delays!

Seconds went by, but the maintenance staff didn’t return. People began shuffling their feet in restless abandon. Some even snorted and left the pantry staring into their handphones. They only just managed to go through the door frame without colliding into it.

Of the few who remained however, was a girl who, remembering something, rushed out the pantry in a hurry. The others stared at the new girl who had just run off. These kids nowadays, had no sense at all. They waited around, their patience ebbing away.

As more of them decided to leave, the new girl strode back into the pantry, head held high and a bottle of ketchup in her hand. She poured herself a generous splash and handed the bottle around.

Not sure how to react, some of the seniors stared at her, while more and more people decided to take the ketchup. Bit by bit, the bottle emptied and everyone had had their share. The tension within the clutter had reduced as the bottle went around, and they began talking.

“So, what’s your name?”

“Where are you from?”

“Really? That’s where I live. You know Mr. Weatherby?”

“Who’s your team leader?”

“Oh, pity you. I heard he is a tough boss.”

“Hey, where did you learn design?”

Soon, they all knew each other. Someone cracked a joke, and the rest of the party threw their heads back laughing, when the maintenance staff returned with a fresh bottle of ketchup. Out of breath, she apologized and said something about running short of stock.

Curious, they all turned to the new girl. A little red in the cheeks, she explained that she had bought that bottle of ketchup to bring home with her.

They all turned to look at the almost-empty bottle. Everyone felt the gratitude, but no one knew how to convey it.

And then the young man saw it. A little label on the bottle. Something about buying seeds online. He pulled out his smartphone from his pocket, and did a quick search.

After a few moments of confused silence, he handed his smartphone to the rest of the group. As they all peered into the screen, they saw that the ketchup brand had a new campaign that let them buy tomato seeds online. As one, they all knew what to do. The young man placed an order at once.

When they all met again at the pantry, the young man had a tiny box-ful of seeds. He handed them to the new girl. He said it was on behalf of everyone.

Flushing a little, she accepted the gift. On one condition, she said. She told them about her plan. Together, they moved towards the window and peered down at the brown soil around their building.

The HR in the group promised to get clearance and permission. Something good was about to happen.

—

Life went on. Day in and day out, they all clocked in, and clocked out. Like machines, staring into machines, serving machines.

But exactly at 4.00 pm everyday, they bloomed into a group of friends. Over a cup of coffee, and oily samosas coated with fresh tomato ketchup.

And the tomato seedlings grew on. Into trees that would last the test of time.

This post is for a campaign by Kissan India about #RealTogetherness.

Every day at work, I see people with their heads together over a cup of tea and a snack. I wasn’t sure how to connect nature and ketchup, until this scene popped into my head. If joining hands for the greater good isn’t real togetherness, I don’t know what is!

This Thing Called Irony…

irony

Bob Propst had some nerve saying what he did. We all like our ‘personal space,’ but when that space becomes the office cubicle, we have nothing else to do than to watch the world pass by. How pathetic and how true.

A Day of Duties

duties

We all live in a world where we have tasks to complete and responsibilities to uphold. At home, at work, in the street, in public places — everywhere we go, we have to abide to certain rules and regulations. We call it law and order, control and regulations. We call ourselves civilized because we follow rules we set upon ourselves.

And it so happens that these rules and regulations are aplenty, and as a consequence we get to prioritize our needs, our tasks based on the rules that we insist on. For instance, I have a task to complete by the end of the day. It’s office work, urgent and my job depends on it. On the other hand, my wife is pregnant and we’re expecting the baby any day now. To cap the situation, my boss is out of town, and wouldn’t know even if I put off the task ’til tomorrow. I just pinged my boss, affirming that I’d finish the job when my phone rings — it’s my wife.

According to the “rules” I should stick to morals, which is to finish the job. Because a) my wife didn’t sound distressed. Yet. And b) my mom’s at home taking care of my wife. It’s understandable if I go home a little late.

But when I weigh my priorities, my wife and child are my life. My job just feeds my stomach, but my family feeds my soul.

In that moment of urge, I drop my work — no one would know anyway — and head home. The baby doesn’t come for another 36 hours. But I was there, with my family, supporting my wife. And that meant the whole world to me.

Which is all nice and emotional.

Now what happens to my boss? He was expecting a reply tonight, and I wasn’t there. He called me, and I didn’t pick up. I knew he would be furious with me. He must’ve tried to contact me online, offline and through my colleagues. And all he would’ve got was an ignoring bastard.

Did I have a choice? Could I have told him how important it was for me to be with my family? Sure I could have, but he wouldn’t have understood. Because his children are grown ups, he was a widower, and had nothing to home to.

His work was his life. And he wouldn’t understand when someone else insisted that their work wasn’t their life.

And so, I ignored him. But I couldn’t ignore my job; I checked in on work from my mobile phone from the hospital cafeteria. My boss had left messages and mails. All he wanted was a response. And all I wanted was my wife to remain strong.

I spoke to a few of my colleagues, asked them to cover for me. They said they would, but I know they wouldn’t hold under pressure — they have families too.

The truth is, my job is vital. I’ll lose everything if I lose my job. I am well aware of it. I have no back up plans. But my family was important too. I was torn between the two, until I decided to choose my family. And now to defend my choice, I have to run away from the truth that keeps threatening my next rise and paycheck.

Don’t we all do that sometimes? Run away from the truth hoping that ignoring it might somehow make it go away?

*Fiction. Really. Replace the ‘family’ with movie marathon, and that sounds more like me.

Testing Times

testing times

Amit feverishly flipped through his worn MBA books. The final test was upon him. He was now just one step away from the corporate life.

Ah! How much he had heard!

He would clear the interview; he would show his father. Amit snorted. His father, the old fool. He had no idea how competitive the corporate world is. He had been constantly pressuring Amit about not getting through in campus interviews.

“Well, what does he know? He’s just a petty banker!” Amit thought to himself furiously. A ‘cling’ from his phone brought him back to reality.

“Why aren’t you at the party? Everyone’s here!”- It was Tina, his girlfriend – No. Friend. Just friend. He sighed.

“I’ve got to study. :( You guys have fun.” – Hitting send, he cast his phone on the bed and returned to his books.

Amit sat outside the manager’s room. Cracking his knuckles, he waited to be interviewed. He was called, and barely managed to avoid the usual foot-trip.

The next few minutes went exactly as planned. They asked him a few questions, and he answered them perfectly. Then came the usual question.

“Do you have a recommendation?”

Amit’s eyes lit up. This time, he did. He handed over the letter – from a respected politician. After Amit’s outbreak last time, his father had agreed to pay for the letter.

“Welcome to our company, Mr. Amit.”

Pissed off, totally

Workaholics!

Oh, bugger! These people are everywhere! Having newly joined as a trainee in a company, all I see around me is people who refuse to look away from their laptops. I’m surprised to see this though, because this is a place where people are supposed to enjoy working; they play cricket; catch up on latest gossips; get some coffee together. But I still call them workaholics because, honestly, I doubt that they think about anything other than their work, even while playing.

Their laughter doesn’t reach their eyes, the mirth doesn’t last long; they pretend to be sophisticated when all they want to do is have some fun honestly. I have a feeling that these people are not who they seem to be. Like they have two complete faces; one inside and another outside the company of their colleagues. Such a two-faced life!

Alas!

Not everyone is like that though; I’ve met some people who honestly say that they enjoy the job, or not. What annoys me is the pretence and false self-contentment of the  majority. Some are so pathetic. They know that they don’t like their job, yet they stick around, because they know that the money is good for their families. They are the pitiable who convince themselves that their life becomes worthy, when living for others’ pleasures.

Then, there is the other kind who feel that they love their job only when they have little or nothing to do at all. When these people are burdened with a heavy workload, they get so cranky and desperate. Oh, my! The look on their faces when they try hard to concentrate and try to retain the weight of their paycheck!

Are these, people who would listen to some stupid ranting of a youngster and try to change themselves? I don’t think so, but that doesn’t stop me from putting down my thoughts.

I’ve seen people who look up to the software community. I’ve seen the desperate longing in their eyes. Why?

It’s simple. Those who are not part of this elite believe this life to be paradise; that’s what they are forced to believe. All they see from the IT crowd is luxury. They cannot be blamed.

Not until they join this industry, that they realize that the life of a software guy is just disguised luxury.

This “software” industry just pisses me off. Already.