Monday, March 11, 2013

A Day Less Lived

Reminisces from the good old days in Signature Towers, back in 2004...........

I wish to make it abundantly clear at the very beginning, to whoever cares to listen, that I utterly, completely, positively detest coming to the office on a holiday. I reckon that I am entitled to the occasional day-off as much as the next man. But evidently, people higher up the hierarchical ladder do not share my belief. So, as it transpires, I end up in the office on yet another holiday. As I make my way to the fifth floor, grumbling and scowling for all I’m worth, I discover that the front door to the office is locked. Perhaps God is on my side after all, I tell myself. Alas, spoken too soon. The guard materializes, unlocks the door, ushers me in and proceeds to lock the door behind me. My startled look prompts him to explain that the State Government has issued a directive that all the offices be closed today, so we have to be very discreet. I make my way into the office, turn on my computer and sit there feeling sorry for myself. Just then, Avantika arrives, another soul unfortunate enough to be working today. We both sit and rue our fate and denounce the biased treatment meted out to us. We both agree that it is unfair to expect us to come to work when the rest of our colleagues are enjoying the day, staying at home, watching TV, sleeping and doing God knows what else. For the next couple of hours, we do very little work, crib a lot more and generally come to the conclusion that life is unfair. Eventually, both of us feel the need for a cup of coffee. Being chivalrous (actually junior) I shuffle across to the cafeteria. But of course, something has to go wrong. All I end up with is some bitter black concoction in my cup. The guard materializes again and with a smug grin, informs me that the coffee machine is out of milk. I mutter under my breath, telling the guard to go forth and multiply, although in not so many words. I tell Avantika of my misadventure. She accepts the bad news in a surprisingly calm manner, almost as if she expected this to happen. I crib some more and work even less. It’s almost one O’ clock now. I begin to worry about lunch. Just then Nitin and Rejo arrive. Two more of the unfortunates. At least we have company now. Strangely enough, these two don’t seem the least bit perturbed at the prospect of working on a holiday. I convince myself that they are both sadists (i realised much later tha ti meant masochists, but that's not the point). Having thus satisfied myself, I proceed with my cribbing and continue to hack away at the keyboard. Finally, it’s lunch time. At least the powers-that-be have been considerate enough to make proper dietary arrangements for us. The four of us morosely chew our way through lunch. At least, I fail to find occasion to rejoice. Lunch being dispensed with, I resume my work with reluctance, and my cribbing with a renewed vigor. Some uneventful hours later, the day’s business being taken care of, I prepare to leave. Some semblance of life seems to creep back into me. As I make my way out of the office, I’m almost cheerful, looking forward to a peaceful evening at home. Right at that moment, the thought that I’ll have to work on many more such holidays assaults me. All my happiness evaporates in an instant. I walk out an unhappy man. What could be worse than working on a holiday? Oh, and I forgot to mention, the AC wasn’t working that day, like every other day I was unfortunate enough to be working when the rest of my colleagues were having a lazy, busy, fun, whatever day. But I consoled myself with the thought that HELL IS HOTTER. Enough said.

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