Friday, October 12, 2007

Crib..crib..crib..n oh yes..crib!

A Friday. A nice, relaxing, happy Friday. And here I am, stuck to my seat, in front of the computer, looking at that whimsical clock on the bottom right corner, waiting for it to turn to 5:00 PM. No, not because then I can leave and go home, but so that I can switch off my brain for the day and listen to my teammate walk our demented, retarded client through a thoroughly depressing presentation, while seated next to our IQ-level-below-20-PM. I am not being bitchy, neither is this stemming out of bitterness.

It's the truth. Imagine a eight year it five year old child, who is so spoiled and pampered by her parents that she thinks that Shah Jahan built the Taj Mahal not for his love Mumtaz but for her and every time she sees marble, it should be brought to her. Hence, stubborn, demanding or unreasonable would be an understatement to describe her. What ST demands, ST gets. That is what they tell her, or maybe they don't. She just assumes that since she is the privileged one to have us as the service providers (read slaves) it is but obvious that we need to be subservient to her.

Coming to the "services" that we provide, it can range from teaching basics of Math to entertaining her when she is all alone in her office and it is way beyond office hours in ours!
I mean come on, isn't it obvious! If she stays in the office, the whole world should give her company in it. What kind of a place works for "only" 8.5 hrs per day! It's a different matter that we work even before she comes to office as she would have given work the previous evening. But all that is immaterial. Their company doesn't pay our company to complain or ask such questions.

Questions. I have started to hate them. Silly me used to think that questions are good, questions are just a way to probe some more and gain some more knowledge. Ha! if things continue this way, very soon we will have to make those "class passes" like in school and take our PMs or better still, take Her Highness' permission to go to the washroom. If someone goes on leave, I should be informed. If someone falls ill, they should inform me for how many days that will continue! Sure. What's next? Should we also find out who built the universe in exactly how many days? That too of course, by EOD.

For those who claim slavery is no longer existent, kindly remind me to set up a meeting in her office.

No comments:

Post a Comment