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Archive for July, 2009

Never had it before in dinner nor will have it again

July 31st, 2009


I am a softcore eggatarian. This mean I gorge on anything that contains egg e.g. cakes, omelette, anda bhuji etc. I consider myself a softcore eggatrian because sometime times I have crossed to the dark side and eaten chicken.


Today after coming back from office, I checked my dabba. The dabba contained three chaptis, one sabji, rice and dal. This is wholesome food for a person as long as he is not a foodie.

Ever since I joined dabba, I have accepted my fate of eating food without knowing what it is or how it tasted. Eating my dabba always brings back the memory of my hostel days where I developed the habit of eating anything as long as it looked edible.

The problem started when I had a look at the food. I smelled the food and recognised the gravy but was unable to understand the sabji. There was something wrong. It looked eatable, it smelled eatable but somehow it was somehow not edible.

I thought about discarding my dabba and ordering a pizza. Unfortunately, it was month end and there is no way I could commit the sin of wasting food. I decided to eat the sabji, had the first bite and gave up.

It felt as something I had never eaten before nor I would ever eat again. I was ashamed that even after spending eight years in hostel I couldn’t eat a dabba. To know the reason of my embarrassment I decided to call my dabbawala.

I called him on his mobile. He replied in a cheerful voice and sensing the right moment I asked him,”Bhaiya. What sabji have you given to me tonight?” He replied that he had not given sabji tonight. He had given me fish.

To sum up

I know I am no Chuck Norris but still I decided to become a vegetarian not because I love animals. I become a hardcore vegetarian because I hate plants. 


Decoding my dressing sense

July 30th, 2009


Today I wore a blue and white stripped t-shirt to office. Although it made me look like a fisherman, one of colleague found it so irresistible that she asked me why I am not wearing my favourite colours today. I told her that she didn’t knew my favourite colours.

She told me that my favourite colours were blue and grey. She didn’t knew why I liked blue but she was sure that I always wore a grey t-shirt. This made her impossible to detect whether was wearing a clean t-shirt or not.

I told her that it was not true. I don’t wear grey coloured t-shirt everyday. The truth is that I only wear dark coloured t-shirts. This ensures that none of my colleague can’t figure out whether I was wearing a clean t-shirt or not. The same logic applies for wearing jeans in office even on Mondays.

She was completely amazed by my straightforwardness. Her ex-pressions told me that she never expected me to confide the truth behind my dressing sense to her. She tried to put colours in my life. She asked me to wear something other than blue, grey and black to office.

I politely pointed out that that she was wearing a black dress. She corrected me by telling that it was black and white dress. I wanted to tell her that can’t withstand her anymore but I couldn’t. She was my colleague. Hence, I decided to follow our company’s policy of smiling at her witty remarks and telling a colleague as soon as she left that I hate her.

To sum up

I love my company’s policy of being consistent. I adhere to it by wearing dark color t-shirts and jeans to work everyday.


Connoisseur

July 29th, 2009
I am a normal employee. Hence, I type using both my hands. Since I need to go through several important documents while typing, I have to use my mouth to hold important documents. Today one of my colleagues told me to remove the paper out of my mouth. She told me that my habit of putting pen or paper in mouth while working was disgusting.

This was quite surprising. Until today, none of my colleagues had ever felt that my habit of holding a pen or paper in my mouth was disgusting. In fact, few days back one of colleagues found it so amusing that she tried to capture that moment on her mobile’s camera. Unfortunately, before she could press the capture button another colleague told me to take the pen out of my mouth. This deprived me and my colleague of the best Kodak moment of our lives.

I told her that holding paper in mouth is not at all disgusting. It shows that I am real connoisseur of food. Just like a connoisseur of music, I love food so much that I find food even where there is none.

She asked me how does paper tastes. I told her that it all depends on the department to which the paper belongs. Some are quite spicy and some are sweet. She inquired about the taste of the documents of her department. I told her that they tasted just like ice cream.

She smiled and told me that the reason was all the cool people worked in her department. I told her that it was biggest problem our company. There is no adherence to objectives. People who are supposed to prepare biryani for me are making ice cream. How will the organisation progress if our processing is going to be so defective?

She was not pleased with my reply. This proved tell the truth to people and they will desert you. After she had left, I checked the sheet I was holding in my mouth. It was a blank sheet. Well guys!!! Vanilla is also a flavour and this connoisseur of food finds it wonderful.

To sum up

Considering you are what you eat, I am the latest shredding machine. 

Password recovery is like a memory test

July 28th, 2009



It has been about a week that I have not checked my personal inbox. Every time I try to log into it, the email service provider asks me whether I have forgotten my password. My reply to it is always no because I am sure that I have a good memory. However, this reply fails to convince the email service provider. He wants to personally test whether I have a good memory or not. So he gives me a memory test whenever I try to log into my email account.

Unfortunately, the test used by it is appropriate to test patience rather than memory. I type a different password than the one which I thought was correct and the email service provider happily rejects it. This continues until the email service provider who is griped by Harry Potter fever sends me to the password recovery wizard.

The wizard asks me several questions. I am able to reply all of them correctly. However, the wizard does not like my mother’s maiden name. He is adamant that he will handover the keys of my inbox only after I tell him my mother’s maiden name.

I have tried several permutations and combinations but as far as I can remember, my mother has only one maiden name. I have tried to convince the wizard to ask me another question such as what is my birthdate? However, the wizard wants me to change my mother’s maiden name. I can’t do that without my mother’s permission and I don’t think she will allow me do it so that I access my inbox.

This has led to a creation of deadlock between us. However, solutions emerge when people talk. To get us talking I tried an icebreaker that I was taught during a management game. However, the icebreaker failed to work its magic because the wizard is not a person.

The failure of icebreaker has killed my hope of obtaining back the keys of my email account. The sad part is that I don’t have anyone to blame for it.

To sum up

My inbox has become like my room. Its has got my name on it but I have no idea what lies in it.
 

 






The new t-shirt

July 27th, 2009


Today as soon as I checked into office, one my colleagues told me that I was wearing a new t-shirt. I was tempted to ask him whether he was keeping a record of the t-shirts that I owned. However since he was  trying to act like a gentleman, I decided to end the conversation by thanking him for noticing my new t-shirt.

During the tea break, few guys asked me whether I was wearing a new t-shirt. I went to the washroom and had a close look in the mirror. I did so to search for the tag that was telling my colleagues that I was wearing a new t-shirt. Unfortunately, I was unable to trace any tag on my t-shirt. I had another close look in the mirror and found that the t-shirt was ironed. I thought this might be giving the impression to my colleagues that I was wearing a new t-shirt.  

I came back to my desk after the tea break and one of my colleagues asked me,” This is a new t-shirt, isn’t it?” I asked him how did he knew that I was wearing a new t-shirt. He told me, “Because you want everyone to show off your new t-shirt.” I said to him that it was a new shirt and I was not a show off. After hearing my clarification, my colleague inquired,” Then why are you wearing a t-shirt on Monday?”

I told him that there was no dress code in the office that prohibited me from wearing a t-shirt in office on Mondays. He asked me to find anyone else in the office wearing a t-shirt. I looked around on the floor and found everyone wearing formals.

To sum up

I hated school because the uniform didn’t allowed me to look different. I hate office because the informal dress code makes me look like a show off.


The longest queue

July 27th, 2009




Today I shopped for a t-shirt at a multi-brand departmental store. I found one t-shirt after strolling for half an hour in the store. I took the t-shirt and went to the cash counter. I found that all the three cash counters were occupied.

I checked the number of people in the three queues and joined the queue with just two people. As the clerk took clothes from the first lady I looked at the giant TV hung behind the clerk. The TV was airing some senseless songs. The dancers were doing their steps as if they were in an aerobic class. Someone had turned off the volume and the songs brought me back of memories of Charlie Chaplin.

After the lady checkout it was the turn of a girl. I had a look at her baskets and felt that they had more clothes than I had in my entire wardrobe. I really felt sorry for her. Surely some freak may have broken into her home and along with her laptop, TV, music system would have stolen all her clothes.

Since my only concern my t-shirt , I went back to watching the latest version of Charlie Chaplin. Meanwhile the TV channel had realised that I didn’t had remote control of the TV. This allowed it to switch to commercials. I looked at few commercials and realised that books are still much better medium of entertainment than TV. I prefer to read books than watching TV because books don’t have any commercials in them. I have never came across a book that says: the next chapter has been brought to you by Pespi.

Being bored, I decided to look what was happening at the other two cash counters. This was not a wise decision. Both the counters had guys who had joined their queue after me. They were making payments while I was being tortured by irritating commercials.

I looked at the girl standing in front of me. The girl had just put another basket on the counter. Standing in the queue, watching irritating commercials and losing to the guys in the other two queues took away all the pity which she had earned by buying so many clothes.

I decided to tell her,” Look sister, read the signals. When it takes more than five minutes for the clerk to check all your purchases, it means you are buying too many clothes. You will wear half of these clothes and then throw them away in your closet forever. You may not even wear the other half of the clothes because they would have become out of fashion by the time you have tried the first half once. So why don’t you do me a favour. Tell the clerk that you forgotten your credit card at home and allow me buy one t-shirt.”

I thought it was brilliant idea. After all, there is nothing wrong in getting a quick service even if you have to act like a jerk. However before I could act like a jerk, I heard one of the clerks on the other counters shout at me, “Sir, this counter is free.” I wanted to tell the clerk to shut up. Here was my chance to act like a jerk and he was messing it up. I didn’t liked it. However, I decided to switch lanes because more then being a jerk I preferred to walk out of the store within the next two minutes.

To sum up

Never judge a book by its cover and a person by its clothes. The book with a great cover may be crap and the person with a great dressing sense may be a shopaholic.  
 





Officially fat

July 26th, 2009


Today I went into the trial room of Westside. I took out my t-shirt and looked into the mirror. Westside has real huge mirrors in its trail rooms. I know it because one mirror was sufficient enough fit to me completely into it.

I knew that I had gained some weight during the last few months but I never thought I had started looking fat. The mirror showed that I have become so fat that I can model for sumo wrestling by just trimming my eyebrows.

I looked in the mirror and felt good. I used to think that I am wasting money by eating fast food. However, the mirror proved that I was wrong. The fast food was not being wasted but was getting accumulated near my stomach. Although I preferred that the fat may have got accumulated somewhere else e.g. on my biceps still my hard earned money was not getting wasted was a big relief.

I turned and checked myself again in the mirror. This was just to ensure that there were no false calls. I am now officially fat. This was good. Now no one could deny me chocolates or my favourite sweets because I may get fat. I am now fat and the trick of saving chocolates by giving me guilty feeling will not work anymore.

I tried the t-shirt and didn’t like it. The t-shirt was picked by friend. So I had to come up with an excuse to reject it. I went to my friend and told him,” Buddy, the t-shirt is good. But I can’t buy it.”

He asked the reason for my decision and I told him,” Because this t-shirt makes me look fat.” He snapped back,” You are right. This t-shirt would make look fat which you are. I will suggest you try a bigger size. It may not fit you but it will make you look quite slim.” I told him that I don’t want to look slim and he asked,” Abhishek are you making an excuse for not buying the t-shirt because you don’t like my taste.”

To sum up

I love being fat. It ensures that I live life king-size.





Thanks for being my friend

July 24th, 2009


Today one of my ex-roompartners called me and told me that he is in Pune. This meant I had to meet him. So I asked him where he was? He told his location and I calculated that it would take me more than an hour to reach his place. So keeping in consideration the ever pressing deadlines on which I am always working, I told him,” Dude can we meet tomorrow?”

He told me that he was in Pune for just two days and there is no way that I could use an excuse to avoid meeting him. I told him that I was not avoiding him. After all was he my ex-roompartner and not my ex-girlfriend. He told him that at any cost I got meet him. I told him that that not true. I can’t meet him at the cost of my job.

He was completely pissed off and told me that we got to meet tonight. I told him that we could meet if he can come to my office. He replied how much time will it take him to reach my office. I told him about twenty minutes. Unfortunately, he was with an another friend who belonged to Pune. He told him that it would take more that two hours to reach my office.

My ex-roompartner told me that I was a liar. I refuted the charges by telling him that it was his friend who was a liar. Pune is small city and anyone with a bike could reach from one end of the city to another within one hour and being at the opposite end of the city that how long it would take him to reach my office.

Being struck with two liars, my ex-roompartner was unable to decide whom to believe. He tried to act wise by saying,” So we both are having lunch together tomorrow.” I replied,” Yes buddy, anytime.” He asked,” Abhishek, I am saying Lunch. Are you out of your mind?” I told him,” Whatever dude. Don’t worry we are going to meet because you are not leaving Pune without meeting me. If you do so, I am coming to Mumbai just to kick your ass.”

To sum up

You are making a mistake if you think that friends are the most important thing. The reason being: friends are not things.

P.S.

Thanks for reading my blog. A million thanks for being my friend. Without you, I may never have enough energy to write blogs while working on so many deadlines. I love you. May God bless you.

With warm regards,
Abhishek
 


Not so valuable customer

July 24th, 2009


Tomorrow is the due date of my mobile’s bill. So today was the deadline to pay the bill. Like an ideal employee I waited until the deadline to put the project on priority. I left office today at 7 pm and reached the bill collection center.

I reached to the door of the collection center and saw a large footmat. This made me assume that the bill collection guys are hygiene freaks and they will not accept money from guys with dirty footwear. Since I wished to pay bill before deadline I wiped my shoes on the floormat and pulled the door.

The door immediately hit the floormat making enough space to allow a dog to enter. However, the space was still not large enough to allow me to enter into the collection centre. So I decided to pull the door strongly towards myself. However, the door again hit the floormat and the floormat failed to move an inch because I was standing on it.

With no space for me to enter the bill collection center and the deadline being just five hours away, I decided to create some space for me. So instead of pulling the door, I pushed it. This created enough space for a man and his dog to enter simultaneously.

I reached at the counter and the receptionist showed me her hand. I decided to show her my finger in response. Suddenly I realised that she was talking on a mobile phone. So I decided to wait at the counter.

Unfortunately, in India the good old days of paid incoming calls have ended. Due to this, the lady at the reception counter kept talking and talking. This allowed me an excellent opportunity to perform yoga. I first balanced myself on my right foot, then on my left foot and finally on my both feet. After balancing myself in all the permutations and combinations and running low of patience, I whispered to the lady, “I heard everything what you said during the last ten minutes. I can bet it is an incoming call for you.”

The lady immediately got off the phone and said,” Sir, you are a valuable customer for us.” I replied, “I hope the same after you hear my bill amount.” She heard the bill amount and said,” I can bet you don’t make any outdoing calls, don’t you?”

To sum up

Valuable customer is the person who pays exorbitant prices for lousy service and keeps his mouth shut.





Why there is no undo in Emails?

July 22nd, 2009



Last night I was working until 2 am on a project. Today I woke up and calculated that I had slept for almost five hours. Science says that four hours of sleep in enough to a man. This proves that I had overslept.

I reached office one hour before the office timing and found my VP working on his workstation as usual. I started working and within few minutes decided to take a nap on my desk. As was I going to close my eyes and start dreaming on being a Hawaiian island, I saw a mail from the VP.

The VP had asked me to provide a summary of the work done by me during the month of July and what I was going to do for the month of August. I decided to send him a reply that I was working hard during July. In case of any doubt, he is welcomed to catch me sleeping on my desk.

However, the reply was incomplete. It didn’t stated what I was going to do in August. So I decided to prepare a summary. I completed the summary and started working on the project. Just after lunchtime the VP send me a reminder stating that he was waiting for my summary.

I said to myself,” If I delayed sending the summary any further then the VP will never accept the argument that sleeping in office proves that I am really working hard.” To prove that I was working hard and not hardly working, I searched the VP’s mail, pressed reply and send him my summary.

Within few minutes, one of my seniors asked me, “Why have you sent the summary of your work to me. It’s the VP who needs this information.” I told her that I didn’t send her my summary and she replied by telling me what I had done during the last twenty days and what I was going to do during the next month. I thought she was an Oracle and said,” But madam I send the summary to the VP. How did you got to the mail? I just can’t understand.”

The oracle replied,” I think you have send the mail on department’s id.” I checked my send folder and accepted that oracles don’t lie. The VP had sent the mail on the department id and I had replied to the mail on the same id. This meant not only the oracle but the whole department knew what I did in July and what I was going to do in August.

I decided to draft a mail apologising to everyone for mailing them a spam. I drafted the mail and before I could press send button, another colleague asked me, “Why did you mailed me the summary?”

I deleted the draft and told her,” So that you can appreciate how hard I have been working.”

To sum up

To err is human. To forgive is divine. Neither of them is a part of my office’s policy.


















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