Oh great, 23 X 4 X 1,000,000 months to go. All right. So maybe it will be a while before Lia Ka-shing loses a good night’s sleep to worry.
Monetary matters aside; let that not stop me from 'jumping to conclusions' backed solely by six months’ worth wisdom of the privileged cubicle life, which I surprisingly found, is not dissimilar from LKG. From what I gather, my parents abused the “Wait till you’re grown up and have to face the world…” speech way too often, at a time I believed I was too raw and ignorant to challenge it. Blah! If only I had known. As I have noticed, and as oxymoronic as this sounds, adults are far more juvenile than kids. Not to take away from them the credit for having survived the throes of infancy, the hormonal anguish of adolescence and indecision of the early 20s. For clearly, age and experience has endowed them with a wealth of skills that time has fine-tuned to a superior artform in itself; one that only the seasoned might decipher.
Case in point, my first week at office which was marked by awe and wonder at the assiduousness of my colleagues. As I stuck my head out of my burrow and took in the panoramic view of heads of my fellow drones hunched over their PCs, getting their prescribed amount of Vitamin E from the computer screens, I, in all my youthful naïveté, believed they were working and marvelled at the Chairman Mao-styled efficiency of the bourgeoisie.
But be warned, o’ casual observer, do not let this eyewash colour reality, which as we know, takes a different path from appearance. But no more shall you remain in the dark, for I have taken the liberty of depicting my well documented jottings as a pie chart (no less); for your convenience and viewing pleasure.
If I were to describe a day at office, I probably could not recall much apart from it being punctuated by three important events. Events that break through the barriers of 'departmentalization' and unite the employees like nothing else does.
Event A: the arrival of mysterious tea guy
Company X’s 'working hours' are from 7am to 4pm, and then the evening shift takes over. Alas, from 7:00am to & 7:52 am there is zero productivity due to insufficient level of alertness of one to four of the senses. The fifth one, the good ol' olfactory is however, at its zenith, 'cause everyone has honed this sense in particular to detect the arrival of the tea guy. Unlike most organizations, mine has not yet succumbed to the digestion destroying vending machine coffee/tea substitutes. Instead, the onus of awakening the economic viability of entire workforce is placed on the capable shoulders of mysterious tea guy (or as I fondly call him, Sunshine.) Sunshine, however, if you were to go by physical appearances, would be the Indian version of Darth Vader. With his black polyester windcheater jacket, matching pants and helmet, (no he does not remove it- EVER!) and stealthy movements all work in tandem to preserve his anonymity. The dead give away of his presence, however, is the pervading smell off caffeine that lures all the bleary eyed drones towards the pantry in Pied Piperezque fashion.
After the beverages has been consumed, and morning pleasantries are exchanged we then return to our stations and begin the wait for Event B.
Event B: The arrival of FREE breakfast.
This causes the second upset for the day. Once again rendered by another pillar of support to the organization. Event B flags of the polite yet determined race to the queue for some Darshini-style nourishment. Once again, never underestimate the pent up energy of co-workers who spend 54 hours a week attached to their seats. Keep in mind that this only implies a greater stock of resources and any delay on your part find you facing empty containers. After this initial flurry of morning hyperactivity there settles upon the arena a semblance of quiet productivity. But you, o' avid reader, are better informed and less susceptible to deception thanks to my efficiently created diagram.
Nevertheless, this farce is earnestly endorsed until focus wanes yet again, at the commencement of Event C.
Event C: The approach of Biscuit Lady
First of all, let me apologise for failing to identify the person and associating her merely with her designation. In my defence, I did know the name of the first Biscuit Lady whose name was Shanta. Much to my surprise, I’ve been told that the Bearer of Biscuits is not a position that is much sought after and low job satisfaction has led to numerous replacements since Shanta. Also, it is difficult for me to concentrate on anything else when faced with the tempting array of biscuits. However, this moniker has the fondest connotations, the mention creates a little pool of goodwill in my otherwise hardened heart.
As I was saying, Biscuit Lady’s two appointments are at approximately 10:45 and 3:45 pm, give or take 15 minutes. She can be immediately identified from any corner of the floor by the pink plastic box and flowers in her hair. But it’s the former accessory that ensures her desirability by both sexes. For within this pink plastic box lay a mindboggling variety of biscuits that only a united Brittania, Parle and Unibic can deliver. Oh, sweet heaven!
It is also common knowledge that the first recipients get the choicest pick (Read: the Cream Biscuits). So the tracing the progress of Biscuit Lady is a matter of great anticipation and discussion.
Prior to this I always disapproved of Google employees being bought over and bribed by gastronomic goodies. One had heard murmurings of the urban myth that they had UNLIMITED ACCESS to all the Snickers, Mars, Coca-Cola their greedy paws could grasp. To which I would never fail to voice my disappointment at their venality. Heck! Turns out I’ve been easier to buy, for as I peer into this vessel of wonders and rummage for the choicest cream biscuits, Nirvana is but an inch away. It is comforting to know though, that the co-workers enjoy the same extent of stimulation at the appearance of Biscuit Lady. So once again, the guard is let down and the moment of baked goodness is savoured. Once the cookie crumbles the remains must be dusted off the shirt and keyboard, headphones replaced on the head and chairs swivelled back to the monitor. ‘Work’ is resumed.
Further research reveals that apart from the regular gratification in the form of caffeine, nicotine and other illegal stimulants most of us require periodic reaffirmation and recognition of our individual worth. HR, of course, enthusiastically fulfils this void (created by negligent parents) in the form of cheesy trophies at the quarterly awards and office outings at restaurants that specialize in Rs. 250 per all-you-can-eat lunches. Oh, for life’s simple joys!
I fear that my blog has painted a very ‘another brick in the wall’ picture. Far from it. What I actually intended to say is that working life has made me conclude that thankfully, age, maturity and incessant education, try as they might, cannot undo our inherent trait to find the short cut or make hard work any appealing.
(Slow fade in of ‘Chariots of Fire’ soundtrack here.)
For what we are doing in fact, each of us, in our own subtle is dictating to the company, exactly how much we are willing to work and how much of our spirit they are allowed to suck out of us.
(Gradual build up of background score)
It is this passive yet tenacious rebellion keeps on is the only thing keeping us from becoming the dreaded statistic, or a Chinaman (as Beijing 2008 Olympics will reveal).And that, my dear readers, is what you should take away from this blog entry.
(Crescendo!!!!)
“The triumph of humanity!”
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to read Bangalore Times.
*Lia Ka-shing for those of you’ll who don’t know and are too lazy to Google him, happens to be 9th richest man in the world. At least that’s what Forbes magazine says. I believe them. Nothing less could be expected from a person whose name rhymes with Ka-ching!
