Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Lady at work

I manage to shock people who have known me for a while. Yes, even now. Most people don't usually come across, what my mom calls, my rudra roop (when I get hopping mad and bite people's heads and hearts out). Sometime during my growing up years, I learnt that being aggressive was bad and I felt guilty about being "mean" and "un-lady like." I even came to the stage where I became a pushover to avoid displeasing anybody. Now I gag at the thought. In the past couple of years I've learnt the following rules:

1.      It's nice to be nice but it's so much better to true to your feelings. As long as I'm not lying, cheating or purposefully harming anybody, I rather be happy than be miserable. Simple.

2.      Eliminate the word "because" from my dictionary. I thank my friend (and an admirable senior colleague) for that advice. I no longer say "I don't want (you) to do this because…."  It's interesting to see how people react when you don't give an explanation when they haven't asked for it in the first place.

3.      Men treat work with pride and women with care. And quoting from http://professionalcareerist.wordpress.com/2009/10/18/emotions-at-work-a-predominantly-female-affliction/, "Pride vs Care. Pride implies one is happy with what one does, with the work they deliver and the results. Care implies conscientiousness, other's acceptance of the work rendered and the reflection of the quality of work. Pride is impersonal. Care is personal," which explains quite well why most women bosses go a tad overboard with their mother-hen behavior when it comes to handling their team. Men, when they usually take pride in the fact they have a team to do the work for them.

4.      Working means you need to learn how to play like a man. Let's face it, the women population in most work places is much lower than men's and reduces even more when one climbs the proverbial ladder of success. So learn the game. The point to remember is that men work just the way boys play in the field. There will be cussing and bruising but at the end of the day/play, there are no hard feelings. Women, on the other hand, become emotional as a result of what they think the other person feels toward them in that one instance…and every instance thereafter.

5.      Never cry at work. I loathe it when I find women crying at a workplace because someone said something to them. Aaargh! Re-read point no. 4.

6.      Self-promotion is not bad but the tact to do is, well, is to be learnt. Men, tone it down, will ya?  And ladies, speak up or don't bitch about others who do it and do it right.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

How to rate a date

I found an interesting excerpt from an archaic book called “How to rate another date.” Though most girls would probably think that it is indeed pretty outdated way of rating a date when all that one needs is recall the evening to the good old girlfriends who’ll make the decision for you, I couldn’t help thinking that this is perhaps the way that I’m likely to rate my date. Maybe I’m an old-fashioned gal afterall.


Tuesday, January 12, 2010

All in a day's work

Yesterday, as I munched on a scrumptious seekh patty at Nathus's Pastry shop, I could not help but wonder how my life had changed for the better since September 2009, the time I accepted this new job and here I was today, munching on goodies on a working day, eating at the company's expense, doing an official job of tasting and selecting snacks for an upcoming office event. I smiled at the lemon tart in my hand as I pondered over it and by the time chocolate tart found its way to my mouth, I did not even complain about the chocolate in the tart, something I'm not very fond of. I watched my colleague, Alice, savor her mushroom patty and blueberry muffin with her eyes closed in ecstasy. "Dude, we have to have these muffins at the event. We just do." And then she proceeded to quickly jot down the menu and the price. We tried not to think of all the pastries that we bought at Wenger's to take home---personal purchases of course. By the end of the day, I was so full that I could feel the rims of the tarts I ate pressing against my ballooned tummy. Alice and I found our stomachs so full that we could barely breathe. Both of us groaned and crawled back to office with bright smiles.
And I thought to myself, this was easier to digest than all that bullshit I had eat in the previous office. Then I had more pastries after dinner. I slept with an appropriate song running in my head:
…And I think to myself…what a wonderful world
 Yes, I think to myself…what a wonderful world

 Oh yeah!

Friday, January 8, 2010

Tinkerbell's dress-to-kill mission

Thank god for Tinkerbell, my sister, who has made her new mission to save me from the Peter Pan-like state I am stuck in (quite comfortably, I admit) into a refined working woman of today to suit my job profile. So no more animal-faced mufflers and socks, no more monochromatic ensemble (because I lack the function of color coordination since birth) and no more hey-look-I-fell-in-a-paintbox look either (for days that I do try color coordinating).

Tinkerbell also mentioned how I wasn't wearing age-appropriate earrings though she did not try to meddle with my basic need of wearing mismatched earring in each of my 8 ear piercings. God bless her!

She goes shopping with me and scrutinizes the clothes I pick up for myself. Now her range of reactions when I do like something include, "Are you serious? You like this???" "Please tell me you are joking!" "Absolutely NOT! Keep it back," "Think sophisticated. Not retarded." But since the time she has taken over my wardrobe at my request, I have been able to tell blue apart from black and even dared to differentiate between brown and tan. Now I have to find a way to fit into some of the super clothes that she finds on her shopping trips.

…or find a way convince the world that going naked is the way to be…

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Girl and boy rules-1: Girls Rule

Thank god for creating man. It teaches higher mortals (read women) to appreciate themselves a little more.
When a man rushes to help a woman carry heavy boxes/books, opens doors for her, treats her a like she is the daintiest person he has ever come across, a woman turns a million times prettier than she is; she becomes powerful with the knowledge of what being a woman truly means.
On the other hand, when a woman treats a man like he is the best thing that could have ever happened to him, she promptly turns into his maid/pastime when there's nothing on TV/ babysitter/nurse. Of course, there are men who would disagree and state the numerous times where they paid attention to their love interest and she spat a deadly combination of fire and venom at his face. Well, buddy, with no due respect to you, you were being a jerk.
Let's deal with the facts here:
Guy interested + girl uninterested = guy is a jerk
Guy uninterested + girl interested = guy is a jerk
Guy interested + girl interested = that's love.

The rule is just as simple as the other rule of life, "girls don't fart."

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Of love and hate

I saw him all night. In my dreams. That would explain why there was no violence when we met. Eachtime I meet him, I feel the same way as I do when I am happy and enjoying just being myself. That's how I know that I love him a little more than I hate him. Now when we talk over the phone, our conversations always lead down on oft-beaten path. And the only reason we have lasted as friends as long as we have is probably because, as I once told him, we don't live in the same city. It's as if we both sharpen tongues and claws after 2 minutes of curtesy talks. 

"Hi! Whatcha upto?"
"Hey! Nothing in particular, yaar. Just got back from office. So, what made you call me?"
"Can't I even call you just to ask how you are?"
"Ofcourse, you can. Why do you have to get offended by everything I say?"
"Offended?! I'm not offended. You just seem to twist everything to mean something else altogether."
Blah, blah, blah. Grrrrowwll.

Silence for 1 or 2 months and then more often than not, the conversation goes as mentioned above.

The scariest part, when I think in retrospection, is that it does not even matter who said what in the above dialogue. We both have used at point or another.
Can't live with him. Can't live without him. Sigh.

I need to gargle with some vodka tonight.


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