I’m a fairly nice person. The catch phrase here being ‘fairly’. I’m human. It is human to dislike others for a reason and my bug-a-boo is people who are miserly even if they’re rolling in riches. When I started my banking career 8 years ago, I was unfortunate enough to be the lowest paid member of the team I was with. To add to my misery were a couple of guys who always wanted breakfast and went around shamelessly ‘borrowing’ money from everyone, myself included. So that they could have breakfast. Alone. Let that sink in. Alone. They didn’t even bother inviting us, we who paid for their breakfast! Over time, people stopped giving them anything since they never repaid. Me, being the soft-hearted idiot that I am, kept on ‘contributing’. One day though, I too – had enough. I was a bit low on funds and refused to ‘contribute’ as I needed the money to make it till pay day. They took it badly and started to make my life miserable by dumping all their work on me. Being the junior most member, I could hardly refuse them because if I did that, word would get around that I was an arrogant idiot. Even though new, I’d understood enough about the environment I was in to realize that was a definite no-no. There I was immersed in my sea of self pity, when I realised they were discussing something. I cocked an ear, to find out that they were discussing ways to make their hair grow out of their chrome domes. Did I mention they were fat bastards – and had very little hair at the back of the head which they cherished more than anything and were always thinking of getting a hair transplant but preferred the wonder oils and creams since they were cheaper. They must’ve realized I was listening, since they looked at me and asked me what I used for my hair, or ‘jungle’ as they inelegantly phrased my curly, unruly mop of hair. Lightbulb!!! I told them it was this great hair cream – expensive shit, stank like hell too but did the trick very nicely, thank you. That perked up their interest (and the interest of my senior colleagues who realized I was lying through my teeth) and they demanded to know the name of the cream and where they could get it. I gave them an address so twisted that they asked me to get it for them and I said sure, why not? Took off PKR 2,500 off of each of them with promises to get it by the weekend. Which I did. Which they went home and applied to their heads. Which resulted in me getting the scolding of a lifetime from the head of the department in front of them – and his blessings and friendship ever since in private since he too was fed up with them. Why, ask ye? What did I do? Hair removal cream, folks. Nair, Lemon. Took a whole bottle, bought a couple of obscure but cheap hair cream tubes from the medicine market near the New Challi Area of Karachi, took a syringe and injected the nasty stuff in the tubes after first emptying them and handed them over. Which they applied on their heads. And since I’d told them to keep it there for an hour before washing it off, their heads were a bit red too. And as hairless as a baby’s butt. Needless to say, I got pretty popular as the guy who you don’t want to mess with.