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.