Ladies and Gentlemen. Unlike my other blogs, this write-up is going to be slightly different. Like John Grisham, I’ll try my hand today at short stories even though it isn’t my forte.
Well, not stories. Actual events that have occurred in my life, narrated by self. Hope you enjoy them – feedback, negative and positive is always appreciated.
A small request before we begin. I’m writing this at 2:30 AM, so any mistakes you may spot are those made by my nocturnal, other, sloppy self.
I’ve been fascinated with and addicted to speed ever since I could walk. 6 year old me used to watch cars zipping off at a 100 mph and I asked my dad one day why it was that I never managed anything that fast.
He, being my dad, replied with complete seriousness “You drink water, they drink petrol.”
Me, being me, managed to siphon off some and gave it a try. Apparently he was right. I quite believe I never ran that fast, ever.
My Ex-Boss – The Insult
My ex-boss, from whom I learnt my work, is a strict disciplinarian. My elder sister would call him a clock-watcher. I think he’s right in doing so. Until I faced his righteous wrath.
I’d been coming in a minute to a couple of minutes late each day. He wasn’t amused and did warn me gently that there would be consequences. Since he was usually threatening me with something or the other and never actually did anything (His expressed disapproval over my habits usually made me cry for hours in the bathroom and he knew it, so he was always gentle with me, sensitive soul that I was) I assumed nothing would happen and shrugged it off.
Until I saw the comic he’d posted at my desk and how everyone else was having a good laugh at my expense. Comic as follows:
A: Why isn’t Brad here yet?
B: He called in to say he wasn’t coming today.
A: Oh. Is that so? And what flimsy excuse did he give this time?
B: He gave three and asked you to choose the best one.
Suffice to say, I’m never late for work now.
I remember going for an Interview at a Micro-Finance Bank which still rankles a bit. After a really long session of stupid questions by an inquisitive idiot who was the Head of Compliance, we were joined by the HR Manager who arrived, coffee in hand, bagel in another and proceeded to eat and drink with his open mouth and its mashed contents right at eye-level. I can tolerate a lot of things, but Papa Maqbool’s nearest and dearest draws the line at bad manners. However, since this was an interview, I answered as patiently as I could.
Until he told me to do a SWOT analysis of myself. Even though it is a perfectly valid one, that is a question I hate. In this case, it was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. My response is as follows:
Strength, I have. I work out, you see. My weakness is my intolerance for bad manners. Opportunity is you, standing right next to me and inviting a punch straight to your pretty face. Threat is, I won’t get the job and probably get hauled off by the police for assault and battery. So please, finish your coffee and bagel out of my sight and with your mouth preferably shut as you masticate.
I don’t think any interview ended that drastically. On the plus side though, I’ll never get a call from those guys, ever again.