Lucky you! I flunked the Account Lead Psychometry...again! Your accounts are now safe. Anyway, that's enough about me. If YOU want to take it up sometime in the future, I've designed this forerunner.....so, you're invited to take the Mock Psychometry to prepare you for the real thing.
It's in 3 parts: Analytical skills, Numerical skills, and English.
Part I - Analytical Skills
1. Peter is Jane's husband's brother's nephew's grandfather.
Jill is Peter's wife's aunt's sister's step-mother (who is Jane, a.k.a. Cinderella's step-mom)
Question: a) Who is Peter to Jill?
b)More importantly, who are you to any of them?
2. Some mice are cats. All cats are donkeys. Therefore:
a) Cats are donkeys with Down's syndrome.
b) We have a strange menagerie here.
c) Mice are people too.
Think, you dunce. If you don't answer these, you'll never know when, for example, NEBMED is slipping out of TAT and you need to add more people on it.
Part II - Numerical Skills
1. A frog is in a 300-foot deep, 40-foot wide well and he's trying to get out. He jumps up 5 inches in an hour and slips back 1 foot. He started doing this in the 19th century. Question: How old will you be when the frog (or his fossil) gets out?
2. X bought a bike for Rs. 800 inclusive of 20% sales tax. He rode it for 45 days at 40 km per hour, 100 km a day. Calculate:
a) How much gas will he need to get himself to the moon on his bike?
b) How many days will he take? Convert to hours.
c) What percentage of his life will he spend doing this? Draw a graph.
d) How much money will he need? In paise and cents only.
Solve this to fine-tune your time zone calculations which will enable you to time your escape when the stats start popping.
Part III - English
1. Grammar:
a) I is fine.
b) What is the singular of mouses?
Question: Are this correct? (brownie points for "singular of mouses")
2. Punctuate correctly: How many legs do a cow have!!!
3. Subject-Verb Agreement:
Why is it wrong to say "I am dead tomorrow"?
a) Because I are still alive tomorrow.
b) Because I is dead yesterday itself.
c) Nothing's wrong - rest in peace.
d) Because I'm going to kill you NOW.
This section will help you communicate better with the Yanks.
About the Test
The psychometry is designed to help determine whether you're good at managing people, your time, and yourself. It's not an IQ test (though the last time I flunked, the testing personnel came all the way to the office to tell me I have the creative intelligence of a retard ant). Go for it, you have nothing to lose except your ego, but that's nothing a good night's sleep (and a shot of cocaine) can't fix.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Rajkumar and Ramanna
Fourteen years ago, when we moved into the house we're currently staying in, Ramanna was a pushcart vendor from whom we bought vegetables like everyone else on the street. Through the decade, as things that I never dreamed of became accessible to us, Ramanna became a choice we could eliminate. In 14 years, a lot has changed for us. Our lifestyle has definitely improved, we have choice - with everything. Nothing has changed for Ramanna. He's still a pushcart vendor (with fewer customers) and he's not very hopeful of giving a better life to his children - something that every parent yearns to do. The years sit heavily on Ramanna.
A mob vandalized a Sweet Chariot outlet near my house when Rajkumar died. I wonder if Ramanna's son was part of that mob. He was a Rajkumar fan.
I'm trying very hard to convince myself that if he did it, it was out of senseless grief for his hero - how senseless is this violence, I tell myself very loudly; just like the lakhs of unemployed youth in this city's underbelly who see no hope in their future, came out on the streets and for 2days held that face of the city hostage, which usually keeps this face of the city firmly tucked behind its glamour.
But Guilt is a tough customer - it refuses to be convinced.
A mob vandalized a Sweet Chariot outlet near my house when Rajkumar died. I wonder if Ramanna's son was part of that mob. He was a Rajkumar fan.
I'm trying very hard to convince myself that if he did it, it was out of senseless grief for his hero - how senseless is this violence, I tell myself very loudly; just like the lakhs of unemployed youth in this city's underbelly who see no hope in their future, came out on the streets and for 2days held that face of the city hostage, which usually keeps this face of the city firmly tucked behind its glamour.
But Guilt is a tough customer - it refuses to be convinced.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
At what cost?
One thing that the technology revolution in communication has done is to give everyone access to everyone else's mind. To me, that's one of the greatest achievements in mankind's history. We hear so much about the "global village" (which is now somewhat of a dated cliche -it's given way to Thomas Friedman's "the world is flat"), but most of that talk addresses the tangible - there are more things to buy, there are more things to do in your leisure, there are more places you can afford to see, but I think the real revolution is this intangible - there are more minds to know and only a mind can spark an idea.
We know now, especially here in India that with the right education and opportunity, our talent can compete with the best in the world. It's become possible to know this because every new industry or trade that has been brought into India from the West has sourced local employment to run their profitable outfits. Now, we're being respected - for our minds, for our merit. That's a very hard-won respect - it's easy to respect wealth, it's easy to respect fame, it's very very easy to respect good looks - but to have none of all this and to earn respect through sheer merit is very tough and it's something that we can take great pride in.
For a country that has spent a large amount of time watching from the sidelines and cheering only timidly and rarely, a ringside view can be a heady experience, and if you're actually getting into the ring itself...well, you can't be woozy on your feet for one thing. You cannot also ever afford to take your eyes off, for to do that is to regress which is not only stupid but also dangerous.
That's exactly what we're doing by even entertaining the thought of reservation based on caste. When you begin to even think that quality just maybe tweaked a bit, that's when you're staring danger in the face. The IIMs and IITs are India's face in the world's economy. These institutions' products have got a foot in the door of the global economy. Admission into these institutes on any grounds other than merit will ensure that the door is slammed on India's face....and foot.
The caste system is India's shame. It's also India's reality. Historically, the upper castes had access to a world that was denied to their counterparts in the lower rungs of the caste heirarchy which led to class hatred and kept some sections perpetually in the fringes. It's noble to try and correct that injustice. Reservation, however, is definitely not the solution. The caste system is a social issue - it cannot and must never be allowed into the country's econonmic chapter; by dragging our social dirty linen into a flat world, all we can hope to accomplish is to turn the spotlight on our shame.
The administration's business is to provide cheap or free education and scholarships to all these sections of society - good quality education, but nothing more. Everything else should be achieved solely on merit. Everyone should be allowed to compete and must be made capable of competing - it's the only way a nation can progress, by never ever letting merit take the back seat to anything. When we accommodate people based not on merit but on caste, are we not giving federal sanction to the caste system? What happens to such people? They will not only earn the wrath and hatred of thier fellowmen, they will also never be able to respect themselves - it's demeaning to a human being to tell him that he's unfit to compete with the best, so he's being patronized. It's not helping the individual, the institution, or the nation. What happens to merit itself? Nothing can kill a man's spirit faster than knowing that his mind, no matter how brilliant it is, is not respected.
A brilliant mind without takers is a dangerous mind. If it is allowed to roam free in a society that doesn't respect it, it will gravitate towards other like-minded rejected brilliance; if its fire is greater than its despair, it will find a way to work within the system or if it can so afford, will leave the system and go wherever its spirit can be restored; if its despair is greater than its fire, it will wreak havoc in the society that has caged and denied it - and a genius's havoc cannot be undone by the mediocre to which it has been forced to bow.
We know now, especially here in India that with the right education and opportunity, our talent can compete with the best in the world. It's become possible to know this because every new industry or trade that has been brought into India from the West has sourced local employment to run their profitable outfits. Now, we're being respected - for our minds, for our merit. That's a very hard-won respect - it's easy to respect wealth, it's easy to respect fame, it's very very easy to respect good looks - but to have none of all this and to earn respect through sheer merit is very tough and it's something that we can take great pride in.
For a country that has spent a large amount of time watching from the sidelines and cheering only timidly and rarely, a ringside view can be a heady experience, and if you're actually getting into the ring itself...well, you can't be woozy on your feet for one thing. You cannot also ever afford to take your eyes off, for to do that is to regress which is not only stupid but also dangerous.
That's exactly what we're doing by even entertaining the thought of reservation based on caste. When you begin to even think that quality just maybe tweaked a bit, that's when you're staring danger in the face. The IIMs and IITs are India's face in the world's economy. These institutions' products have got a foot in the door of the global economy. Admission into these institutes on any grounds other than merit will ensure that the door is slammed on India's face....and foot.
The caste system is India's shame. It's also India's reality. Historically, the upper castes had access to a world that was denied to their counterparts in the lower rungs of the caste heirarchy which led to class hatred and kept some sections perpetually in the fringes. It's noble to try and correct that injustice. Reservation, however, is definitely not the solution. The caste system is a social issue - it cannot and must never be allowed into the country's econonmic chapter; by dragging our social dirty linen into a flat world, all we can hope to accomplish is to turn the spotlight on our shame.
The administration's business is to provide cheap or free education and scholarships to all these sections of society - good quality education, but nothing more. Everything else should be achieved solely on merit. Everyone should be allowed to compete and must be made capable of competing - it's the only way a nation can progress, by never ever letting merit take the back seat to anything. When we accommodate people based not on merit but on caste, are we not giving federal sanction to the caste system? What happens to such people? They will not only earn the wrath and hatred of thier fellowmen, they will also never be able to respect themselves - it's demeaning to a human being to tell him that he's unfit to compete with the best, so he's being patronized. It's not helping the individual, the institution, or the nation. What happens to merit itself? Nothing can kill a man's spirit faster than knowing that his mind, no matter how brilliant it is, is not respected.
A brilliant mind without takers is a dangerous mind. If it is allowed to roam free in a society that doesn't respect it, it will gravitate towards other like-minded rejected brilliance; if its fire is greater than its despair, it will find a way to work within the system or if it can so afford, will leave the system and go wherever its spirit can be restored; if its despair is greater than its fire, it will wreak havoc in the society that has caged and denied it - and a genius's havoc cannot be undone by the mediocre to which it has been forced to bow.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Our Comforts and our Passions
Don't you love stories that tell you to chuck it and follow your passion - success stories of all those who dared to risk everything for a momentary lapse of senses and toiled with a laser focus to follow their dream, who met with failure, rejection, hopelessness, and heartbreak but with a sudden divine wink-nudge, began to live exactly the life they wanted. I love to read those stories - because I know I will NEVER have the courage to give up my comforts for my passion.
At work, people tell me almost every day that I should be somewhere else - I should be writing they say. How romantic! How romantic to be able to live your passion - but premature cynicism makes me head first for the "fine print" in all dreams.
There really IS a lot of romanticism built around this "struggle" to pursue your passion - honestly, it doesn't appeal to me. Why, I keep asking myself, should I struggle for my passion? That in itself seems ridiculously masochistic! And what of writing itself - for its own sake and for pleasure? If I had to write to earn my livelihood, if I did this for a living, I'm certain I wouldn't enjoy it as much. When you're paid, it becomes a job, not a passion. And then, there's "passion" itself. I think you're either passionate or you're not - passion is a state of being that you acquire and you strive - very hard - to keep....every day....in everything you do. And then there's the minor detail of bombing - really royally bombing at your "passion" - THAT I think is the real fear that keeps a lot of us from pursuing our passions - it's so much easier to amuse myself with my self-injected boosts of that much maligned phrase "feel good factor" - I love what I write, I write for no one's pleasure but my own...but if I got paid, I'd BETTER write for your pleasure as well and if what I write doesn't exactly send you into raptures of ecstacy - or worse, dunks you into some serious depression - well, that might lead one to develop a brand new passion - like gambling....or alcoholism...or, horror of horrors, that last resort of every also-ran writer..memoirs.
At work, people tell me almost every day that I should be somewhere else - I should be writing they say. How romantic! How romantic to be able to live your passion - but premature cynicism makes me head first for the "fine print" in all dreams.
There really IS a lot of romanticism built around this "struggle" to pursue your passion - honestly, it doesn't appeal to me. Why, I keep asking myself, should I struggle for my passion? That in itself seems ridiculously masochistic! And what of writing itself - for its own sake and for pleasure? If I had to write to earn my livelihood, if I did this for a living, I'm certain I wouldn't enjoy it as much. When you're paid, it becomes a job, not a passion. And then, there's "passion" itself. I think you're either passionate or you're not - passion is a state of being that you acquire and you strive - very hard - to keep....every day....in everything you do. And then there's the minor detail of bombing - really royally bombing at your "passion" - THAT I think is the real fear that keeps a lot of us from pursuing our passions - it's so much easier to amuse myself with my self-injected boosts of that much maligned phrase "feel good factor" - I love what I write, I write for no one's pleasure but my own...but if I got paid, I'd BETTER write for your pleasure as well and if what I write doesn't exactly send you into raptures of ecstacy - or worse, dunks you into some serious depression - well, that might lead one to develop a brand new passion - like gambling....or alcoholism...or, horror of horrors, that last resort of every also-ran writer..memoirs.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Sunday, February 12, 2006
9549
Twenty-one years ago, Daddy drove him in to our squeals of delight. My twin and I took to him immediately. The last of the original Fiat model, when we brought him home, he was already 15 years old - add 21 to 15 - ever heard of a 36-YEAR-OLD CAR!?! 9549 was 36 years old, 21 of those birthdays happened with us.
I know cars these days come with loads of 'extras' and a cassette player is passe - but it wasn't 21 years ago. My twin and I loved music with a passion (still do!) and a player in the car was a novel luxury. It became a ritual to spend a couple of hours in the car each week with the windows rolled up or down depending on the season running our favourite tapes over and over till we busted them. We pestered mummy and daddy to takes us on drives and we drove around without a destination simply humming or singing along.
We ate in the car, we drank countless cups of steaming coffee in it, we had tons of icecream parked outside Lakeview, we studied in the car, we fought and we made up in the car. We also earned pocket money from Daddy washing it! The weeks we needed extra money, we gave it an extra wash - 9549 taught us the value of cash.
The years (and our infamous roads) began to wear him down. I guess we all knew at the back of our minds we would have to say goodbye soon. Sometimes I resented 9549 for not being what he used to be - he represented a lost time that we sometimes desperately want to go back to.
Two weeks ago, Daddy drove him out for the last time from our garage. It was hard to hold back the tears. I don't know who'll touch him next, but he carries a lot of precious memories...
I know cars these days come with loads of 'extras' and a cassette player is passe - but it wasn't 21 years ago. My twin and I loved music with a passion (still do!) and a player in the car was a novel luxury. It became a ritual to spend a couple of hours in the car each week with the windows rolled up or down depending on the season running our favourite tapes over and over till we busted them. We pestered mummy and daddy to takes us on drives and we drove around without a destination simply humming or singing along.
We ate in the car, we drank countless cups of steaming coffee in it, we had tons of icecream parked outside Lakeview, we studied in the car, we fought and we made up in the car. We also earned pocket money from Daddy washing it! The weeks we needed extra money, we gave it an extra wash - 9549 taught us the value of cash.
The years (and our infamous roads) began to wear him down. I guess we all knew at the back of our minds we would have to say goodbye soon. Sometimes I resented 9549 for not being what he used to be - he represented a lost time that we sometimes desperately want to go back to.
Two weeks ago, Daddy drove him out for the last time from our garage. It was hard to hold back the tears. I don't know who'll touch him next, but he carries a lot of precious memories...
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
* *B R E A K I N G N E W S* *
This is to inform you that a revised and improved Overtime and Conveyance Policy has been posted on our Intranet. As you all know, we're in a perpetual crisis. Everyone knows this - you know, your parents know, your spouses know (or is it spice?!?...anyway...), your children know (if you have kids at home who're just learning to talk, the first word they'll utter will probably be 'crisis' - do not be alarmed) - practically the whole city knows because our vans are zipping around in a tizzy. So, in order to encourage you to clock in extra hours, we revisited our OT and Con (short for conveyance - please don't get any ideas) Policy.
How you access this is: You log into Bee Mine, wait for 2 hours; click on HR Manual, wait for 2 hours; click on Policies, wait for 2 hours (please don't forget to work while you're doing all this waiting), click on Overtime and Conveyance Policy....and come back tomorrow and read it. Because you can only read it tomorrow, the policy has been summed up here briefly.
Overtime Policy
Remains unchanged. You'll be paid the same rate per hour that you've always been paid. This is in keeping with our motto: "If you keep doing what you've always done, you'll keep getting what you've always got."
Conveyance Policy
For overtime upto 4 hours: Use your own conveyance and we'll reimburse you - at actuals or lesser (whichever is lesser.)
For OT upto 8 hours: OT vans will be provided (please bring your own driver).
For OT upto 16 hours: OT ambulances will be provided (please carry your medical insurance papers on your person.)
For OT greater than 16 hours: In-house IV drips and soft pleasant music will be provided.
Other Floor Luxuries
For overtime upto 4 hours: A good OT system will be provided. At the end of 4 hours, security will call a rick for you if you're without wheels. If you have wheels, valet services will be provided (please ensure that your vehicle is insured.)
For OT upto 8 hours: A good OT system and fresh orange juice will be provided. Security will escort you into your van and strap you into your seat (new seat belts have been added in all vans.)
For OT upto 16 hours: A good OT system, fresh orange juice, and four 50-50 biscuits will be provided. Stretcher will be brought to your workstation and you'll be peeled from your chair and carried down on the stretcher into your OT ambulance. If you're embarrassed riding downstairs lying in the stretcher, you may sit up and crack jokes.
For OT greater than 16 hours: See under Conveyance Policy 'For OT greater than 16 hours.' In addition, one member of your family will be allowed on the floor to hold your hand and cry.
If any part of this is not clear, please write to us or come up and meet us and we'll fire you on the spot because, c'mon, if you can't understand something this simple, it's no wonder we're perpetually in a crisis....let's roll, folks!
How you access this is: You log into Bee Mine, wait for 2 hours; click on HR Manual, wait for 2 hours; click on Policies, wait for 2 hours (please don't forget to work while you're doing all this waiting), click on Overtime and Conveyance Policy....and come back tomorrow and read it. Because you can only read it tomorrow, the policy has been summed up here briefly.
Overtime Policy
Remains unchanged. You'll be paid the same rate per hour that you've always been paid. This is in keeping with our motto: "If you keep doing what you've always done, you'll keep getting what you've always got."
Conveyance Policy
For overtime upto 4 hours: Use your own conveyance and we'll reimburse you - at actuals or lesser (whichever is lesser.)
For OT upto 8 hours: OT vans will be provided (please bring your own driver).
For OT upto 16 hours: OT ambulances will be provided (please carry your medical insurance papers on your person.)
For OT greater than 16 hours: In-house IV drips and soft pleasant music will be provided.
Other Floor Luxuries
For overtime upto 4 hours: A good OT system will be provided. At the end of 4 hours, security will call a rick for you if you're without wheels. If you have wheels, valet services will be provided (please ensure that your vehicle is insured.)
For OT upto 8 hours: A good OT system and fresh orange juice will be provided. Security will escort you into your van and strap you into your seat (new seat belts have been added in all vans.)
For OT upto 16 hours: A good OT system, fresh orange juice, and four 50-50 biscuits will be provided. Stretcher will be brought to your workstation and you'll be peeled from your chair and carried down on the stretcher into your OT ambulance. If you're embarrassed riding downstairs lying in the stretcher, you may sit up and crack jokes.
For OT greater than 16 hours: See under Conveyance Policy 'For OT greater than 16 hours.' In addition, one member of your family will be allowed on the floor to hold your hand and cry.
If any part of this is not clear, please write to us or come up and meet us and we'll fire you on the spot because, c'mon, if you can't understand something this simple, it's no wonder we're perpetually in a crisis....let's roll, folks!
Monday, January 23, 2006
Employer Satisfaction Survey
You've all participated/will participate/are participating in the Employee Satisfaction Survey. This one's its counterpart - The Employer Satisfaction Survey. Afterall, unless we're satisfied, you can't be.
Dollops has agreed to join hands with us to conduct this exercise. Dollops, as you all know, is a 150-year-old icecream manufacturing company located in Alaska (that's the state Russia sold to America a century before any of you were born. Trust the wily Russians to get rid of a lot of ice and make a profit in the bargain....anyway, that's a different story). Dollops is located in Alaska because they don't need to buy freezers there - and they get Eskimo labour. The Eskimos still believe that the world runs on barter system.
Please take the time to complete this. Please be honest. Be critical. Everything is confidential (everybody will read everything, but no one will say anything, okay?) We're not vindictive (but we reserve the right to raise your projection to 1650 and if you don't hit that number, we reserve the right to give you a golden handshake and tell you to 'ged the hell outtta here' because, hey, c'mon, deep down we're still a Yankee joint and remember Texas is running the show now.
Every question has at least four options. No right or wrong answers. Pick the one that reflects your sentiments best.
1. Do you like HS?
A. Of course ! It's the only place to be.
B. Of course ! HS rocks.
C. Yes. Very much. Thank you.
D. So all together, let's hear it once more, "I LOVE HS"
2. Do you like the food?
A. Sure! It's top class.
B. Sure! It's 5-star.
C. Sure! It's top class and 5-star.
D. Yes. Very much. Thank you.
3. Do you like the chairs?
A. Yes ! It makes me feel like a King sitting on his throne.
B. Yes. When I'm bored, I can spin around and go "owheeeee..."
C. I like blue chairs the best.
D. Yes. Very much. Thank you.
4. Do you like your payslip?
A. Yes. I became a millionaire after coming here.
B. Yes. I love to be in the BPL category - it's not everyday that you get to be associated with a famous abbreviation.
C. NO. I'd like a 25 paisa raise.
D. Yes. Very much. Thank you.
5. How often do you think you need a payhike?
A. Never.
B. Everytime Haley's comet whizzes past us.
C. This is a joke - HA HA- you may laugh.
D. Yes. Very much. Thank you.
6. What about quality? Do you think we're doing enough to ensure no one is getting sued 10,000 miles away?
A. Of course ! We're afterall an ISI Agent...sorry, ISO Company.
B. 98% of us believe that 80% of the time 95% of our reports are 100% accurate.
C. You may juggle the above numbers as you please.
D. Yes. Very much. Thank you.
7. What about quantity?
A. Yeah! What about it?
B. We sweep the board - gold, silver, and bronze.
C. Yes.
D. Very much.
E. Thank you.
You're done. Thank you for your time. We've covered everything we can think of here. If there's something we didn't think of, it's not worth thinking about, so you don't think about it either. But we're really an open-door, big-happy-family, all-are-welcome company, so in keeping with our democratic tradition, you may send us hate mail at out-of-office@goodbye.com
The last time Dollops was here, everyone cribbed about the selection process for everything - projects, promotions, rewards, punishments, who gets to be outriders for the Terry Fox run - EVERYTHING. We're happy to announce Dollops has found a solution, one that's startling in its simplicity. We're hanging this sign from an Irish pub on our front door: "This is our back door. Our front door is at the back." With this, all back door entries are now official. Yes. Very much. Thank you.
Dollops has agreed to join hands with us to conduct this exercise. Dollops, as you all know, is a 150-year-old icecream manufacturing company located in Alaska (that's the state Russia sold to America a century before any of you were born. Trust the wily Russians to get rid of a lot of ice and make a profit in the bargain....anyway, that's a different story). Dollops is located in Alaska because they don't need to buy freezers there - and they get Eskimo labour. The Eskimos still believe that the world runs on barter system.
Please take the time to complete this. Please be honest. Be critical. Everything is confidential (everybody will read everything, but no one will say anything, okay?) We're not vindictive (but we reserve the right to raise your projection to 1650 and if you don't hit that number, we reserve the right to give you a golden handshake and tell you to 'ged the hell outtta here' because, hey, c'mon, deep down we're still a Yankee joint and remember Texas is running the show now.
Every question has at least four options. No right or wrong answers. Pick the one that reflects your sentiments best.
1. Do you like HS?
A. Of course ! It's the only place to be.
B. Of course ! HS rocks.
C. Yes. Very much. Thank you.
D. So all together, let's hear it once more, "I LOVE HS"
2. Do you like the food?
A. Sure! It's top class.
B. Sure! It's 5-star.
C. Sure! It's top class and 5-star.
D. Yes. Very much. Thank you.
3. Do you like the chairs?
A. Yes ! It makes me feel like a King sitting on his throne.
B. Yes. When I'm bored, I can spin around and go "owheeeee..."
C. I like blue chairs the best.
D. Yes. Very much. Thank you.
4. Do you like your payslip?
A. Yes. I became a millionaire after coming here.
B. Yes. I love to be in the BPL category - it's not everyday that you get to be associated with a famous abbreviation.
C. NO. I'd like a 25 paisa raise.
D. Yes. Very much. Thank you.
5. How often do you think you need a payhike?
A. Never.
B. Everytime Haley's comet whizzes past us.
C. This is a joke - HA HA- you may laugh.
D. Yes. Very much. Thank you.
6. What about quality? Do you think we're doing enough to ensure no one is getting sued 10,000 miles away?
A. Of course ! We're afterall an ISI Agent...sorry, ISO Company.
B. 98% of us believe that 80% of the time 95% of our reports are 100% accurate.
C. You may juggle the above numbers as you please.
D. Yes. Very much. Thank you.
7. What about quantity?
A. Yeah! What about it?
B. We sweep the board - gold, silver, and bronze.
C. Yes.
D. Very much.
E. Thank you.
You're done. Thank you for your time. We've covered everything we can think of here. If there's something we didn't think of, it's not worth thinking about, so you don't think about it either. But we're really an open-door, big-happy-family, all-are-welcome company, so in keeping with our democratic tradition, you may send us hate mail at out-of-office@goodbye.com
The last time Dollops was here, everyone cribbed about the selection process for everything - projects, promotions, rewards, punishments, who gets to be outriders for the Terry Fox run - EVERYTHING. We're happy to announce Dollops has found a solution, one that's startling in its simplicity. We're hanging this sign from an Irish pub on our front door: "This is our back door. Our front door is at the back." With this, all back door entries are now official. Yes. Very much. Thank you.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Who Are You?
I'm not what you would call gadget-savvy (give me a Remington typewriter any day). Here's why: I've logged in with my password, terminator (really, that's my password) for as long as I can remember (and here's my user ID: Harry. Go on, make my day). My computer usually welcomes me with this message: "Good Morning Harry Terminator. Have you told your neighbour about our referral scheme ? If your neighbour joins us, we'll give you 30 paise extra for every line you post within the next 3-1/2 minutes !!!! Tell your neighbour now, Harry !!! TELL !!!" to which I would smile coyly and reply, "no, really, I can't take advantage of your generosity." And thus, life went on. Imagine my shock then, when one day I logged in as usual and my computer asked me "Who are you?" What a question ! How am I supposed to know !?! Those of you who know the answer to the question "Who Are You?", raise your legs.......There ! Not a single leg ! Some questions are best left unanswered.....or even unasked.
Anyway, after much cajoling and coaxing and threatening, I discovered that my computer wanted me to change my password......Oh ! Did I tell you my password is 'terminator' ? Sorry ! I changed it. It's now 'exterminator' (and you can still make my day because my user ID is still 'Arnold' - I haven't changed that). I also discovered that, like everything else, my computer too was made in China, and that terrified the living daylights out of me. The Chinese (in competition with the Japs) make phones that can take your picture, double up as a computer, sing songs for you, send messages to your neighbour who's sitting less than half a foot away, play games, and in some cases, even shoot you if you press the wrong buttons long enough. You can also make calls (if you have the time). I have one such phone....at home.....somewhere.....I'm saving money to buy a microscope to look for it. Anyway, that's why I'm not gadget-savvy. In fact, I'm petrified of anything that vaguely resembles buttons.
Addendum: The Japs will wait for the Chinese to come up with the inventions and then simply buy the company and patent the products and run around claiming it's theirs. (Unrelated to any of the above, an addendum literally means 'add' to the 'end'.....'ummm' - as in 'this is an after-thought').
Moral of Story: Learn Chinese. Your next TL will be Made in China.
Anyway, after much cajoling and coaxing and threatening, I discovered that my computer wanted me to change my password......Oh ! Did I tell you my password is 'terminator' ? Sorry ! I changed it. It's now 'exterminator' (and you can still make my day because my user ID is still 'Arnold' - I haven't changed that). I also discovered that, like everything else, my computer too was made in China, and that terrified the living daylights out of me. The Chinese (in competition with the Japs) make phones that can take your picture, double up as a computer, sing songs for you, send messages to your neighbour who's sitting less than half a foot away, play games, and in some cases, even shoot you if you press the wrong buttons long enough. You can also make calls (if you have the time). I have one such phone....at home.....somewhere.....I'm saving money to buy a microscope to look for it. Anyway, that's why I'm not gadget-savvy. In fact, I'm petrified of anything that vaguely resembles buttons.
Addendum: The Japs will wait for the Chinese to come up with the inventions and then simply buy the company and patent the products and run around claiming it's theirs. (Unrelated to any of the above, an addendum literally means 'add' to the 'end'.....'ummm' - as in 'this is an after-thought').
Moral of Story: Learn Chinese. Your next TL will be Made in China.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
"There's a Bomb on the Bus....."
I was bored. I looked at the clock - "1 more hour to go!!!" it screamed. I twiddled my thumbs idly, and for some inexplicable reason thought of Keanu Reeves. His immortal line from Speed jumped at me out of the blue and suddenly I had - what my 4-year-old nephew calls - "a great idea!"
I sent a message on the chat to our front desk - "There's a bomb on the bus" - I sat on my hands and waited - 5 minutes passed, nothing happened; 10 minutes, still nothing; 15 ...nada; I crept down the stairs slowly and peeked at the front desk. The receptionist was on the phone. I hid from view and watched. She hung up and turned to her monitor. She frowned, she rubbed her eyes, she looked around, she frowned harder...then, she shrugged and went back to her work.
I charged - "Didn't you get my message!?!?" I asked incredulously.
"Oh...you sent that..?" she asked unruffled.
"Yes!" I almost screamed and waited expectantly...she continued working. "There's a bomb on the bus!!!!" I gesticulated wildly.
"What bus?" she asked looking up and leaning back in her chair.
"How should I know!?!?!?" my eyes were huge and incredulous with disbelief.
She shrugged again and gave me a 'where-did-you-escape-from?' look and went back to work.
"Aren't you going to do something !?!?!" my voice rose to a shrill pitch.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked without looking up.
"Well...how about looking up at me for a start!!!! Aren't you worried? People are going to die!!!"
"People die all the time..." she said. I couldn't dispute THAT.
"Do something!!!" I commanded.
"Well....I can sing pretty well..." she offered sarcastically.
"Send everyone to the lunchroom!!!" I suggested ignoring her last remark.
"Why? Because there's a bomb on a bus somewhere in the city?" she asked
"What bus?!?!?" I yelled.
"How should I know?" she shot back..."You're the one that sent the message."
"Is that what I said!?!? No, no, I meant there's a bomb in this building!!!!" I was hysterical.
"Oh..?" she said.
'Oh' what!?!?! ...evacuate everyone then...send a message and ask everyone to go to the lunchroom. NOW!!!" I barked.
"Go to the lunchroom" she said yawning
"Just me!?! What will I do there all by myself!?!? Tell EVERYONE!!"
"I can assure you no one will want to go to the lunchroom now" she said.
"Tell them what I told you!!" I was talking very loudly.
"That there's a bomb on the bus?" she asked.
"No, no, that there's a bomb in the lunchroom! Then, everybody WILL go!!!" I screamed.
She looked at her watch and got up. "Look, you'll miss your van, and I'll miss mine...why don't you go home and take your tablets and get some sleep?" she was already on her way out.
"Oh...ah...yes, my van..." I mumbled and followed her tamely.
As I passed the security officer's cabin, I saw him glued to the TV. I peered in - Maria Sharapova was on center court in her night clothes under the blazing Aussie sun.
"It's hot there, isn't it!" I remarked.
"You bet" the security officer grinned.
"Psst..." I said, gesturing for him to come closer. He leaned out.
"There's a bomb on center court" I whispered.
"I know" he said....and winked.
I sent a message on the chat to our front desk - "There's a bomb on the bus" - I sat on my hands and waited - 5 minutes passed, nothing happened; 10 minutes, still nothing; 15 ...nada; I crept down the stairs slowly and peeked at the front desk. The receptionist was on the phone. I hid from view and watched. She hung up and turned to her monitor. She frowned, she rubbed her eyes, she looked around, she frowned harder...then, she shrugged and went back to her work.
I charged - "Didn't you get my message!?!?" I asked incredulously.
"Oh...you sent that..?" she asked unruffled.
"Yes!" I almost screamed and waited expectantly...she continued working. "There's a bomb on the bus!!!!" I gesticulated wildly.
"What bus?" she asked looking up and leaning back in her chair.
"How should I know!?!?!?" my eyes were huge and incredulous with disbelief.
She shrugged again and gave me a 'where-did-you-escape-from?' look and went back to work.
"Aren't you going to do something !?!?!" my voice rose to a shrill pitch.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked without looking up.
"Well...how about looking up at me for a start!!!! Aren't you worried? People are going to die!!!"
"People die all the time..." she said. I couldn't dispute THAT.
"Do something!!!" I commanded.
"Well....I can sing pretty well..." she offered sarcastically.
"Send everyone to the lunchroom!!!" I suggested ignoring her last remark.
"Why? Because there's a bomb on a bus somewhere in the city?" she asked
"What bus?!?!?" I yelled.
"How should I know?" she shot back..."You're the one that sent the message."
"Is that what I said!?!? No, no, I meant there's a bomb in this building!!!!" I was hysterical.
"Oh..?" she said.
'Oh' what!?!?! ...evacuate everyone then...send a message and ask everyone to go to the lunchroom. NOW!!!" I barked.
"Go to the lunchroom" she said yawning
"Just me!?! What will I do there all by myself!?!? Tell EVERYONE!!"
"I can assure you no one will want to go to the lunchroom now" she said.
"Tell them what I told you!!" I was talking very loudly.
"That there's a bomb on the bus?" she asked.
"No, no, that there's a bomb in the lunchroom! Then, everybody WILL go!!!" I screamed.
She looked at her watch and got up. "Look, you'll miss your van, and I'll miss mine...why don't you go home and take your tablets and get some sleep?" she was already on her way out.
"Oh...ah...yes, my van..." I mumbled and followed her tamely.
As I passed the security officer's cabin, I saw him glued to the TV. I peered in - Maria Sharapova was on center court in her night clothes under the blazing Aussie sun.
"It's hot there, isn't it!" I remarked.
"You bet" the security officer grinned.
"Psst..." I said, gesturing for him to come closer. He leaned out.
"There's a bomb on center court" I whispered.
"I know" he said....and winked.
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