As I had written in the earlier post, the office had handed me a German jersey. Well, it wasn't exactly an original official one, but one bought on the cheap from the street-side. Of course, that gives me no reason to complain. After all, they did let me keep it, even though it was not a part of my salary.
So then, I go to work the other day, 2 weeks after the day I received the jersey. And I was wearing it to work. As I was having breakfast, the moron who has been assigned production duties for our football bits comes up to me and stands around gawking. When I asked him if there was something he wanted, he said they needed the jersey back! I said I wasn't particularly keen on being bare-top in office and then asked why it was needed back. Turns out they needed it for another shoot that was happening in the Delhi office.
So they had gone around, collecting all the 8 t-shirts they had handed out. Based on personal ideas of principle, I refused. And based on personal ideas of prudence, I put it down to the t-shirt in question being involved an accident involving a bit of fire. Someone thought my reason sounded a bit fishy (hardly surprising, given the fact that I was wearing the very same garment on my person), so I had to explain how small accidents involving fire are not exactly uncommon in the process of getting stoned.
Of course, I put this down on official email. I guess that it being written word and all, on office mail to boot, counted as enough evidence of the sad accident which would now lead them to spend another huge amount of Rs 150 on buying another street side t-shirt. Fucking idiots would have probably spent as much on sending the t-shirt from here to Delhi in the first place.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
On the Ball Again
Toni Braxton sang the 2006 world cup song, and Shakira is singing this time around. Which one do you prefer? Ricky Martin, even though Shakira probably has a better posterior. That was my answer.
Friday morning, I reach office at the usual unearthly hour of 6:00 AM. Around 8:30, I am told that in honour of the world cup starting, we will be doing football segments on our channel through the day, one of which would involve the anchor walking around the newsfloor, asking us random questions to do with football. So they gave me a German jersey and asked me what they did.
Got my hands (and feet too) on the Jabulani ball. The anchor didn't want us putting our dirty feet on it because she has to carry the ball in her hands often while doing the football segments. But of course, its a football, its got to be played with. Shame that there are so many computers in the office though, they greatly restricted our playing area.
Saw bits of the opening ceremony and then the first match at some supposedly fancy place called Blue Frog. Still don't know why it should be so bizarrely expensive, but I ain't complaining since it was all free for the TV 'crew', a fact I sadly learnt as we were about to leave. As per our crew duties, I smoked a spliff and had a few beers, took a piss, and left the moment the match was over. Couldn't stand the pretentious sorts talking about absolute fuck-all in most atrociously affected accents.
So long then. A month of footballing goodness. The world, with all its daily bullshit, seems easier to take.
Friday morning, I reach office at the usual unearthly hour of 6:00 AM. Around 8:30, I am told that in honour of the world cup starting, we will be doing football segments on our channel through the day, one of which would involve the anchor walking around the newsfloor, asking us random questions to do with football. So they gave me a German jersey and asked me what they did.
Got my hands (and feet too) on the Jabulani ball. The anchor didn't want us putting our dirty feet on it because she has to carry the ball in her hands often while doing the football segments. But of course, its a football, its got to be played with. Shame that there are so many computers in the office though, they greatly restricted our playing area.
Saw bits of the opening ceremony and then the first match at some supposedly fancy place called Blue Frog. Still don't know why it should be so bizarrely expensive, but I ain't complaining since it was all free for the TV 'crew', a fact I sadly learnt as we were about to leave. As per our crew duties, I smoked a spliff and had a few beers, took a piss, and left the moment the match was over. Couldn't stand the pretentious sorts talking about absolute fuck-all in most atrociously affected accents.
So long then. A month of footballing goodness. The world, with all its daily bullshit, seems easier to take.
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
More Than a Modicum of Mediocrity
Argh. Bleugh. Bhrhalh. The bile wants to rise and fly, to cover everything around me in this office where I sit and waste my life on most weekdays, and some weekends too. If I had to narrow down my few and sparse fears to the biggest one, I would say it is being infected by stupidity. And the second would be the slide in to medicority. This place offers high risk levels of both.
People, workers, colleagues, bosses, interns, almost everyone here seems to be in love with the job, bitches about it non-stop, but only in the most inoffensive fashion, and is entirely content with doing the bare minimum. Strange 'systems' are put in place that serve to complicate procedures needlessly, especially when there are many who can't tell their mouths from the posteriors of their superiors. Small surprise that, though, considering they spend most of their time so far deep inside someone else's arsehole that the darkness makes them feel nocturnal. Which also gives them a reason to say something like "I am so tired because I was up all night" and then use that as an excuse for doing even less work than they do.
Beginning of this month, the company handed out appraisal letters. Well, letters certainly, but appraisal, not that certain. Personally, I am not complaining since I have spent only a few months here. But it was easy to see the disparity between those who do their work and go home, and those who come to work and climb up someone's bumhole for the day.
Anyway, there was a lot of grievance relating to this farcical assessment of employees' performance, and as such, there has been a few resignations already, with some more on the way. What it means for me is that my workload increases, since there seems to be no move to hire any replacements. Which means dealing with, and coming to terms with, a lot more mediocrity and stupidity on a daily basis.
People, workers, colleagues, bosses, interns, almost everyone here seems to be in love with the job, bitches about it non-stop, but only in the most inoffensive fashion, and is entirely content with doing the bare minimum. Strange 'systems' are put in place that serve to complicate procedures needlessly, especially when there are many who can't tell their mouths from the posteriors of their superiors. Small surprise that, though, considering they spend most of their time so far deep inside someone else's arsehole that the darkness makes them feel nocturnal. Which also gives them a reason to say something like "I am so tired because I was up all night" and then use that as an excuse for doing even less work than they do.
Beginning of this month, the company handed out appraisal letters. Well, letters certainly, but appraisal, not that certain. Personally, I am not complaining since I have spent only a few months here. But it was easy to see the disparity between those who do their work and go home, and those who come to work and climb up someone's bumhole for the day.
Anyway, there was a lot of grievance relating to this farcical assessment of employees' performance, and as such, there has been a few resignations already, with some more on the way. What it means for me is that my workload increases, since there seems to be no move to hire any replacements. Which means dealing with, and coming to terms with, a lot more mediocrity and stupidity on a daily basis.
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