Realized that my posts are pretty long ones. Considered cutting it short but decided to stay true to the founding principles of this blog. Thou shalt not go by popular notions of the ‘right’ blog…. Except in its being readable. Which I’m no judge of anyway. Guess I’m verbose. But hey, we females talk more. Blame it on the wiring then.
Where I come from we’d just say, “Aiyyooo, vat to doo…vee aar like that wonly”….. and let it rest at that ;-)
Cheers to all and a hot cuppa kaapi…until the next post.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Impressions Unlimited
It’s funny y’know. All this hullabaloo about saying and doing things that make the right impressions and convey the right image. Anywhere. With anyone. A first date. A consequent date. When the dates progress to a meet-the-parents session. And not to forget meet-the-friends. That all-defining b-school placement interview. Making all the right moves to fit in with your trainee batch. ‘Creating’ and then ‘Maintaining’ a good rapport with your boss. Who in turn fine tunes his act with the super-boss at every opportunity. Please note that in common parlance this is called ‘sucking up’ but in corporate circles it is more acceptable to call it ‘networking’ and ‘relationship building’. And do not forget to look appreciative while saying it.
Not that there’s anything wrong with it. Who’d want to land up on the wrong side of his superior? I mean, after all this is the guy who finally decides whether the year end sees you doing a post-review ‘Zulu sacrificial dance meets Rumba’ fusion number, or reincarnate yourself into Devdas Version2. More so if there’s a performance-linked bonus involved.
And you do not, I repeat, DO NOT want to look like a scumbag from the alley, or even act like one, if you have any intentions of impressing that cute co-worker. Or the hunk who’s your neighbour’s cousin’s auntie’s sister-in-law’s son, visiting for a spell. Suddenly ‘Love thy neighbour’ becomes the only principle worth following. Not to forget the neighbour’s relatives. And once you’ve floored the cutie, the task of convincing everybody who’s cutie’s anybody remains. Right impressions again. And so the circle goes on and on and on and on and on….. I think I’ve driven in the point.
But the most interesting, and if I may say, most entertaining part of the game is that all important, much-hyped first impression. Working to send out all the right vibes is a challenge alright. But would your appearance click? Depends on what the other person notices first. Which of course you’d have no clue about. So you’re back to square one, redefining ‘polished’, ‘groomed’, ‘smart’, and ‘sexy’, even as you hunt high and low for that deo stick and the hair gel.
Ask folks about what they notice first in people they meet for the first time, and you’ll get the most interesting array of answers. More so if the new person in question is of the opposite gender. The answers vary from hairstyles to shoes to the colour of their eyes to the perfume they wear. I’d agree to most of these in part atleast. Except the perfume/deo part, which I’d agree to in full. ‘Coz more often not, it’s sadly conspicuous by its absence. Dunno about the rest of you folks but that’s my experience.
Picture this:
Yours truly clambers aboard a BEST bus in the usual morning rush. (Yours truly will henceforth be referred to as DDGYT. For Drop Dead Gorgeous Young Thing. And no, wishful thinking hasn’t killed me yet.) Having made her way to where the conductor is, DDGYT prepares to buy her ticket, when she catches something, or rather, someone out of the corner of her eye. A male. Human, in case you were wondering :P. And VERY easy on the eye at that (Henceforth to be referred to as DDGH. For Drop Dead Gorgeous Hunk. This, dear reader, is an objective observation). Right next to her. Smiling pleasantly at her and actually moving aside (please don’t!!) to give her place. Suddenly the forty minute commute doesn’t seem long enough. Li’l things like these convince DDGYT that there IS a God and He definitely loves her.
Glory be. The dadaji behind DDGYT moves ahead to get down at the next stop. All the good karma accumulated from years of helping senior citizens across the road (whether they wanted to cross or not) is finally paying off. ‘Coz this brings DDGH back next to DDGYT. Soft violins swell in the background, Bollywood ish-tyle. He smiles pleasantly (again…..sigh!) as he moves to the side and raises his arm to grab the handgrip above.
All too suddenly DDGYT gasps desperately and lunges towards the window. His Rexona deo’s NOT WORKING!!!!!! Choke, cough, cough…:-( :-( Double damn. A full 25 minutes left to reach office. Leaving DDGYT to look heavenward (nose pointed towards window) and mumble “Is this Your idea of a joke????” The heavens erupt in not-so-saintly mirth. While DDGH continues to smile pleasantly. One arm raised. Blearghh.
Such, my friends, is life. But honestly, the very first thing I’d notice about a guy is his voice. And whether he looks me in the eye while speaking. The latter’s okay, coz that establishes trust. But voice?? Yesssss. Think Jim Reeves, Tom Jones, Frank Sinatra…and I’m pretty sure you’ll get the picture. Bet my last rupee that the bobbysoxers weren’t cheering Sinatra for his scarecrow physique. Can you even imagine Clark Gable (swoon!!) dishing out his “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn” in a squeaky C sharp?? A voice can make or break an impression.
Period.
Alriiiiiight…… MY impression.
Case study time again. Sorry folks, but b-school does that to one.
The all important placement talks were in full swing for our senior batch. And we juniors were specially called in to attend the presentation of one very distinguished recruiter. The recruiter’s name shall not be disclosed. This is so as to NOT botch their recruitment chances in the coming years, given the description of events that follows. (Ok I admit. We’d still fall over each other to get selected by them)
When the team walked in, the girlie giggles and whispers in the hall suddenly surge. The reason for the commotion is a dishy (Grade: Jawdrop ++) young man who walks in with them. Now I know where Handel dreamed up his Hallelujah chorus from. Some ethereally beautiful young thing musta walked by and asked for directions while he sat, quill and scroll in hand, notes floating around in his head.
Sweet revenge at last. All those months of the guys ogling at the PYT’s from HR while we gals got to look at distinguished, greying gentlemen who reminded of our daddies at best, and our program director at worst. His Dishiness came up to the mike to introduce his team. With about 45 females watching his every move with bated breath. And drooling mouths, if you really insist on knowing. Specializations and dream profiles forgotten.
“Hi everybody, my name’s XYZ……”
The rest of it was one hazy blur. Tears of disappointment can blur very effectively. For what the microphone lifted and then wafted through the air was a sound like a baa-sheep’s. (Shudder! Sob!!) Don’t try to console with me all that gas on poor acoustics…..The heartache lingers. Ladies were later heard to remark that the ppt wasn’t so impressive after all. Despite the amazing visuals.
Aaaaaah well. Can’t have your cake and eat it too I guess. Which seems rather stupid on second thoughts, coz what’s the point of having the cake then?
Moral of the post: Always carry a pair of earplugs. And a perfumed hanky.
Now playing: Beautiful Girl – Kenny Lattimore.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
I do's, I will do's.... and all that jazz
Whooeeeee....second post in a day. Pro'lly beginner's enthu. Am not complaining though.
A very close friend of mine had called up on my birthday recently. Yes, thank you, I had a birthday not too long ago. Older certainly, but no signs whatsoever of getting wiser. If this goes on, I'll find myself being made the subject matter of a thesis on diminishing mental age. A mental age that shows every sign of slipping into the negative at that.
Whoops...am wandering again. Where was I...oh yeah, close friend.
A month's gossip faithfully traded. Birthday wishes given and graciously accepted. Then she tells me, "Guess what, we're finally getting engaged." I could almost see that smile of her's whenever she used that particular 'we'. The 'we' in question refers to close friend + her BF of more than a year (like you couldn't guess!). Given that the BF is also a good pal, my cup truly did run over. Certainly a hitching I had waited and prayed for. Here's wishing the awesome twosome all the happiness they could possibly desire and more.
Found myself thinking quite a bit after we hung up. Have seriously lost count of the weddings scheduled to happen this year in buddy circles. And I'm already a serious contender for the 'Last Gal Standing' award. Not that I mind. Marrying just 'coz I'm expected to do it never struck me as a particularly brainy thing to do. Can't even dream of finding takers for that opinion in senior circles of the family though. Good mallu gals aren't supposed to think on such controversial lines.
What does make me wonder is how I've never come across a single guy I could consider as potential commitment material. Especially with folks marrying/committing/falling in love hook, line and sinker all around. Maybe I've already met him and we don't realise it yet. Or, he suspects a possibility while I don't (yet). And is therefore staying clear of me to save his life :P (likely). Or perhaps he was already an ex-member of the singles club when I met him (verrrryy likely). If there's anything that the past three years have reinforced, it's that quote on good things being
1. Illegal
2. Fattening
3. Committed to someone else.
Nothing like a dose of option (3) of the above to induce an overwhelming wave of sisterly affection (Blech). And an even more overpowering "@#%$#% Dammit!!!" . (Thank you ladies... the nods are reassuring.)
Lick your wounds (and bandage your pride) in private. And abandon all attempts thereafter. Thou shalt not covet what belongs to thy neighbour. The Lord sure did his research thoroughly before dishing out those ten deadly guidelines on an unsuspecting flock. Calvin had it all figured out. I MUST enhance my swear vocabulary to deal with life's disappointments.
Quite a lot for a first post. Seems pretty puerile now that I've read through it, but am posting it all the same. Have promised myself not to fall prey to searching for a 'with it' theme ar trimming my ramblings to suit general expectations from a blog. If you've made it through the scrambled mush above to reach this line, then thanks a ton for your patience :). Would appreciate your comments if any. And would sincerely be hoping that the writing improves enough to have you visit this page regularly.
Love, peace and two-day weekends for all.
Listening to: Where are you going - Dave Matthews Band
A very close friend of mine had called up on my birthday recently. Yes, thank you, I had a birthday not too long ago. Older certainly, but no signs whatsoever of getting wiser. If this goes on, I'll find myself being made the subject matter of a thesis on diminishing mental age. A mental age that shows every sign of slipping into the negative at that.
Whoops...am wandering again. Where was I...oh yeah, close friend.
A month's gossip faithfully traded. Birthday wishes given and graciously accepted. Then she tells me, "Guess what, we're finally getting engaged." I could almost see that smile of her's whenever she used that particular 'we'. The 'we' in question refers to close friend + her BF of more than a year (like you couldn't guess!). Given that the BF is also a good pal, my cup truly did run over. Certainly a hitching I had waited and prayed for. Here's wishing the awesome twosome all the happiness they could possibly desire and more.
Found myself thinking quite a bit after we hung up. Have seriously lost count of the weddings scheduled to happen this year in buddy circles. And I'm already a serious contender for the 'Last Gal Standing' award. Not that I mind. Marrying just 'coz I'm expected to do it never struck me as a particularly brainy thing to do. Can't even dream of finding takers for that opinion in senior circles of the family though. Good mallu gals aren't supposed to think on such controversial lines.
What does make me wonder is how I've never come across a single guy I could consider as potential commitment material. Especially with folks marrying/committing/falling in love hook, line and sinker all around. Maybe I've already met him and we don't realise it yet. Or, he suspects a possibility while I don't (yet). And is therefore staying clear of me to save his life :P (likely). Or perhaps he was already an ex-member of the singles club when I met him (verrrryy likely). If there's anything that the past three years have reinforced, it's that quote on good things being
1. Illegal
2. Fattening
3. Committed to someone else.
Nothing like a dose of option (3) of the above to induce an overwhelming wave of sisterly affection (Blech). And an even more overpowering "@#%$#% Dammit!!!" . (Thank you ladies... the nods are reassuring.)
Lick your wounds (and bandage your pride) in private. And abandon all attempts thereafter. Thou shalt not covet what belongs to thy neighbour. The Lord sure did his research thoroughly before dishing out those ten deadly guidelines on an unsuspecting flock. Calvin had it all figured out. I MUST enhance my swear vocabulary to deal with life's disappointments.
Quite a lot for a first post. Seems pretty puerile now that I've read through it, but am posting it all the same. Have promised myself not to fall prey to searching for a 'with it' theme ar trimming my ramblings to suit general expectations from a blog. If you've made it through the scrambled mush above to reach this line, then thanks a ton for your patience :). Would appreciate your comments if any. And would sincerely be hoping that the writing improves enough to have you visit this page regularly.
Love, peace and two-day weekends for all.
Listening to: Where are you going - Dave Matthews Band
Here goes...
Finally. After a couple of years of thinking about it, and nearly a year of telling myself to do it, I've started writing. Don't ask me why I didn't start sooner...there are a million reasons, real and invented. Inertia, work, exhaustion, no time (Yeah, haven't we all heard that one before), other priorities (Ha!), I had a pimple on my nose, no other female in the office had a pimple on her nose, yada, yada, yada. Not to mention that procrastination happens to be my middle name as well.
And what do I intend to write about? Well, no answer to that yet, 'coz I intend to find out as I go along. This came about as the only option after crossing out everything else on the list. The reason's simple enough. I need someone/something that'll let me speak out whatever's on my mind, without bothering about any of that tact/political correctness/niceness bull****. Since the 'someone' seems light years away on the horizon (or a figment of my imagination at times), my laptop and therefore a blog was the way to go
Don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't have friends or folksI love talking to. There are some things that only the person thinking about it can possibly comprehend. There are also some things that I'd probably be desperate to get off my mind, and still NOT be interested in actuallytalking about it. And being a specimen of humanity who's perpetually in the 'think-say-think-oh-damn-shoulda-thought-more-think-oh-what-the-heck' mode, or more commonly in the 'dont-think-only-speak-then-think-oh-what-the-beep' mode, a blog becomes more of a necessity than .... err... a mobile. No, clothes. Food?? Money??? Whatever. Just realized that there are a host of necessities that I'd rather not have to choose from.
See?? It's working already....writing's making me think deeper.
(Barf)
Ohhh-kaaayyyyy......
...hopeless attempt at a smart oneliner.
It's amazing how life has settled into this pretty well-defined rut post b-school. Five and a half endless weekdays, a weekend that's over even before I start thinking about what I'm gonna do, and voila, I'm back where I started. Add to that inanely repetitive, zero value-add work, canatnkerous clients who think I AM the datamart AND data creator if need be, throw in a few retarded (seriously!) colleagues, and you have a foolproof formula to make any ordinary human being lose it and turn into a fuddled, bumbling automaton. But hope shines through yet.... little do the vile rodents responsible realize that the heroine in question never had 'it' in the first place, to lose 'it' ever.
>;-D
Eeeeyyoowchh. Another saaaaaaaad PJ.
Coming back to reality...making time to do something I enjoy, like reading or doing a crossword, is a seperate task in itself these days. In all likelihood, this is gonna worsen as time goes by. Which in turn makes me wonder if I really am on the right track after all.
To all outward appearances, I've got everything I could ask for. With some significant exceptions of course.
1. I'm paid chicken**** compared to 80% of my batch.
2. And I'm living in Mumbai which has to be THE most hideously pricey city I've ever lived in. Unless I switch to a vada-pav and water diet. But love the city all the same.
3. AND my body resolutely refuses to get into any shape other than the amoeba shaped mass it is right now.
Ok, so I exaggerate. This amoeba has arms and legs, a distinct face, as well as curves. Admittedly a few more than I'd like and some in all the wrong places. Like 'convex' where it should be 'concave', but curves all the same. Sigh squared. Time for a self cheering session in front of the mirror. To tell myself that true beauty lies within (Hoohaa....who're you kidding baby??). And that people would like me only for what I truly am. Don't I feel like a million dollars already. Which again doesn't count for much, given the currency freefall not too long ago.
Jeez.... looks like I'll have to change the name of this blog to 'Cogito Ergo Doleo' or something like that.
Coming to the main point (yet again!)...Gotta keep my hopelessly distracted brains in check..long enough to write a coupla coherent and cohesive paragraphs atleast. Back to the job front. Bigshot managers who are walking, gas manufacturing units unto themselves are dime-a-dozen. With all the gyaan and gas they keep spewing around so freely, I do have my serious doubts of whether that is what actually aspire to reach. Or turn into. Scary thought.
Like, waxing eloquent on the most arbit, global gyaan concepts to clear your exam and earn your degree is one thing. Doing it day in and day out to earn a living is something else altogether. And seeing these folks get appreciatied for doing this kinda thing actually gives me the heebie-jeebies. Makes me lose faith in the system.
Not that I had much to begin with anyway.
Been thinking more frequently about making a switch these days. To something radically different and non MBA-ish. Chance meetings and conversations over the last few days have reinforced this thought. Mebbe it's a sign that the One above thinks on similar lines too. Or it's probably a part of that vague yet constant sense of wanting to cock a snook at everybody and dance to a distant piper I hear all the time. Hopefully will be clearer in a few months time.
And what do I intend to write about? Well, no answer to that yet, 'coz I intend to find out as I go along. This came about as the only option after crossing out everything else on the list. The reason's simple enough. I need someone/something that'll let me speak out whatever's on my mind, without bothering about any of that tact/political correctness/niceness bull****. Since the 'someone' seems light years away on the horizon (or a figment of my imagination at times), my laptop and therefore a blog was the way to go
Don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't have friends or folksI love talking to. There are some things that only the person thinking about it can possibly comprehend. There are also some things that I'd probably be desperate to get off my mind, and still NOT be interested in actuallytalking about it. And being a specimen of humanity who's perpetually in the 'think-say-think-oh-damn-shoulda-thought-more-think-oh-what-the-heck' mode, or more commonly in the 'dont-think-only-speak-then-think-oh-what-the-beep' mode, a blog becomes more of a necessity than .... err... a mobile. No, clothes. Food?? Money??? Whatever. Just realized that there are a host of necessities that I'd rather not have to choose from.
See?? It's working already....writing's making me think deeper.
(Barf)
Ohhh-kaaayyyyy......
...hopeless attempt at a smart oneliner.
It's amazing how life has settled into this pretty well-defined rut post b-school. Five and a half endless weekdays, a weekend that's over even before I start thinking about what I'm gonna do, and voila, I'm back where I started. Add to that inanely repetitive, zero value-add work, canatnkerous clients who think I AM the datamart AND data creator if need be, throw in a few retarded (seriously!) colleagues, and you have a foolproof formula to make any ordinary human being lose it and turn into a fuddled, bumbling automaton. But hope shines through yet.... little do the vile rodents responsible realize that the heroine in question never had 'it' in the first place, to lose 'it' ever.
>;-D
Eeeeyyoowchh. Another saaaaaaaad PJ.
Coming back to reality...making time to do something I enjoy, like reading or doing a crossword, is a seperate task in itself these days. In all likelihood, this is gonna worsen as time goes by. Which in turn makes me wonder if I really am on the right track after all.
To all outward appearances, I've got everything I could ask for. With some significant exceptions of course.
1. I'm paid chicken**** compared to 80% of my batch.
2. And I'm living in Mumbai which has to be THE most hideously pricey city I've ever lived in. Unless I switch to a vada-pav and water diet. But love the city all the same.
3. AND my body resolutely refuses to get into any shape other than the amoeba shaped mass it is right now.
Ok, so I exaggerate. This amoeba has arms and legs, a distinct face, as well as curves. Admittedly a few more than I'd like and some in all the wrong places. Like 'convex' where it should be 'concave', but curves all the same. Sigh squared. Time for a self cheering session in front of the mirror. To tell myself that true beauty lies within (Hoohaa....who're you kidding baby??). And that people would like me only for what I truly am. Don't I feel like a million dollars already. Which again doesn't count for much, given the currency freefall not too long ago.
Jeez.... looks like I'll have to change the name of this blog to 'Cogito Ergo Doleo' or something like that.
Coming to the main point (yet again!)...Gotta keep my hopelessly distracted brains in check..long enough to write a coupla coherent and cohesive paragraphs atleast. Back to the job front. Bigshot managers who are walking, gas manufacturing units unto themselves are dime-a-dozen. With all the gyaan and gas they keep spewing around so freely, I do have my serious doubts of whether that is what actually aspire to reach. Or turn into. Scary thought.
Like, waxing eloquent on the most arbit, global gyaan concepts to clear your exam and earn your degree is one thing. Doing it day in and day out to earn a living is something else altogether. And seeing these folks get appreciatied for doing this kinda thing actually gives me the heebie-jeebies. Makes me lose faith in the system.
Not that I had much to begin with anyway.
Been thinking more frequently about making a switch these days. To something radically different and non MBA-ish. Chance meetings and conversations over the last few days have reinforced this thought. Mebbe it's a sign that the One above thinks on similar lines too. Or it's probably a part of that vague yet constant sense of wanting to cock a snook at everybody and dance to a distant piper I hear all the time. Hopefully will be clearer in a few months time.
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