How I Met A Corporate Bitch And Puked All Over Him

If you are one of those subspecies of Canis lupus appropriately self-domesticated for the purpose of corporate breeding then it is all the better for you to refrain from perusal of my blogposts at this very instant or you might aggravate your rabies  (which is not necessarily good for your career though it might work well with your poor driver or domestic aid).

Well, it is tough to be funny in these trying times. But I manage to squeeze out my daily dose of humor from incidental interactions (an instance of which I will narrate shortly) with members of the corporate community. I can’t help running into at least one of these social parasites every time I step out of my apartment. I swear they are omnipresent,  gracing every space on the earth with their ubiquitous obnoxiousness. I’ll save the subject of management business for another day and for the present I will talk about the more noxious entities of the corporate world – Managers. While most of  them are injected with the virus and are chronic hosts of this affliction, the rest are just wannabes as opposed to ‘aspiring  managers’. FYI, there are aspiring doctors, aspiring engineers, even (as preposterous as it may sound) aspiring  scientists…but there is no such thing as an Aspiring Manager. Yes, yes, (thanks to our highly regarded IIMs and the multitudes that strive for admission into these worshiped temples of education that) it may not be a commonly acknowledged fact as of now but it’ll be very soon. At least as soon as India sees its first openly gay, if not lesbian, President. Anyway,  here it is – the rungs of the ladder (bottom-to-top) one has to climb to get to be a top-level manager are represented here fyi:

wannabe manager–>

desperately wannabe manager–>

cocksucking manager stage1–>

cocksucking manager stage2–>

cocksucking manager stage3–>

…50 years later…

–>blowjob mongering manager (goes home every day to  see his wife  fucking her driver and contemplates  suicide on a daily basis but lacks the fucking bit of nerve)

Besides the front desk receptionists in other departments/offices, English language is one of the items in the long list of things heavily abused  with impunity by these airheads. Don’t get it? Sample this: Management education is one thing and management as an occupation is an “entirely different ball game altogether“. “Ring any bells?”, “Think out of the the box, guys”,  “Well then, let’s cut to the chase“.

Laugh Out Loud. Seriously. Are they serious! This corporate language started evolving  way back in the primitive ages in America, I agree, but why are these Indian monkeys aping it! I hope they are not trying to challenge the notion that Mathematics is the only true universal language… Anyway, coming back to the incident I promised to narrate, here is an everyday regular conversation I overheard between two wannabe managers while traveling in the city bus today morning and standing adjacent to their seats:

wannabe 1: “Good Morning. How are you feeling today?” <shakes hand firmly with wannabe 2, gives him a warm smile, offers the seat next to him>

wannabe 2: “Good Morning. Real good, thanks. How about you?” <with a wide smile, seating himself next to 1>

(An innocuous exchange of greetings as it seemed but may have led some uninitiated onlookers to believe they were homosexual friends who had casual sex last night. It’s just the beginning…)

wannabe 1: “So how was the job?” <maintaining steady eye contact while lowering his head>

(Only for a second I presumed it was blowjob, from the way the line was delivered, but I continued to listen to the chat in that assumption for kicks. To add to my kicks my friend who was traveling with me and standing next to me really believed  what I only assumed, and I didn’t bother to give her any perspective because for all I knew they might’ve really been homosexual, casual sex partners who were wannabes too. So we continued listening to their conversation.)

wannabe 2: “I just went with the flow, dude. My performance was appreciated thoroughly by one and all in the department. I can’t thank you enough for that opportunity.”

(Not much innuendo there…?)

wannabe 1: “You should thank my boss for it. It’s his call dude, not mine really.”

wannabe 2: “Hmm. I liked the job and I’m sticking with it.”

wannabe 1: “Great. Now it’s a win-win situation for you as well as our company, eh?”

wannabe 2: “Maybe. But it is hard to get my arms around it, if you know what I mean. I think I need more teammates for better performance and delivery.”


wannabe 1: “The ball is in your court, dude. You are free to take the ball and run with it. But first you should meet my boss.”

wannabe 2: “My previous boss threw me under the bus last week over a project I gave my sweat and blood to. So I had to quit. Hope the new boss is different.”

(My poor friend wondered if he was tossed under the same bus we were traveling in and how in heaven’s name this guy was out  of the hospital so soon.)

wannabe 1: “Definitely. But with our boss you should really mind your Ps and Qs.”

wannabe 2: “Anything else?”

wannabe 1: “You got to keep a stiff upper lip while dealing with boss’s fancies sometimes. And be on your toes. You should always make it happen but not take in more than you can chew.”

(At this point I couldn’t control my laughter any longer, I had to laugh out loud and so I let it out. Unfortunately, the  last dialogue I heard about chewing changed my laughter into puke and I puked all over wannabe 1)

wannabe 1: “Lady, is something wrong with you?” <with the nastiest face in the world, raised his voice, clenched his fist>

(My friend apologized and said that I wasn’t well. I laughed my heart out this time. No more puke. She explained I was delirious because of an overdose of medicines. He, being a pussy as expected, loosened his fist and tried to wipe puke out of his shirt. Meanwhile…)

wannabe 2: “You and your friend may take our seats, please, we can stand, we are close to our station.” <He prompted 1 to  get up and offered the seats to us, with a corporate variety plastic smile plastered to his face>

wannabe 1: “Yes sure, be seated. We have to get down in a minute anyway.” <quite irritated>

(I was thoroughly enjoying it all. My friend was a little shaken by the sudden turn of events..)

wannabe 1: “Friend, please hold my cellphone and wallet. I’ll wipe my pants and put on my coat before we get down.” <handing over his phone and wallet to wannabe 2>

wannabe 2: “Cool phone. Oh, it’s vibrating. You are getting a call from……..from my previous boss?!?!” <utterly baffled,  confused, shocked>

wannabe 1: “What? Are you sure? Check the number again. Give it to me.”

wannabe 2: “Yes, I’m damn sure. It’s his number and his photo too flashing on your screen. To come to think of it he looks a lot like you too. Are you relatives?”

wannabe 1: “Wait, let me see…….Shit. Our boss. I mean my boss. He asked me to engage you in this project somehow.  So I did. You won’t quit now, will you? You signed the contract, remember. Come on now, beggars can’t be choosers, I say.” <Adding insult to injury. The bus stopped and it was their turn to get down>

(“Meet the new boss. Same as the Old boss,”my friend and I cried in unison and I laughed hysterically, till I slipped into delirium. They either don’t listen to music or they didn’t get the joke right then. How could they? Wannabe 2 was almost in tears and wannabe 1 was covered in my puke.)


Last morning, having little to do at work I walked down to my favorite coffee shop in town. I picked a seat in a cosy corner of the café and settled down to a drink of delicious hot coffee. Sitting right there, I could watch human beings bustling about outside the glass doors of that blissfully quiet café. They were like tiny amorphous specks in the sea of life flowing endlessly on wheels on the city roads. The next thing I knew, I began to ponder over life- my life. A little here and a little there I digressed but every time I bounced back to it, for the rest of the day, even after I left the café, till I reached home, and after…
As I delved deeper into the realms of introspection, I became aware that besides all the day-to-day trivialities which make up the froth that one has to swim through mindlessly to go forward in time, I have a passion for something in my life, just one thing: writing. The thoughts followed thus…
I’m not a great writer, not even close to it. I enjoy writing nevertheless. It is true that certain passionate thoughts and emotions easily translate into weighty words but it happens to me exclusively when I’m caught in situations with no access to writing pads or any sort of recording instruments. And, when I make efforts to retain them in my mind they somehow seem to lose their fire as soon as I prepare to set them down at the end of a busy day. At such times, I
put the pen away, save the ink for another day, and pick  a book to read. Maybe it is frustration caused by the emotionally unbalanced city lifestyle.  Maybe it’s just my mood. Anyhow, the next time that it happens, I decided to do away with pens and papers, typewriters and electronic machines, and just sit and muse with eyes closed, instead of begrudging some author her magnificent book…
So there I sit with my eyes closed, to mould amorphous thoughts into feelings, to inject life into dormant and dead ideas, to tune up emotions, to direct emotions through the Writer’s Magic Loop and to see them come out of it as delectably flavored English words. Then, with my eyes closed, I string the words together, shuffle the strings around till they hit the right notes and reflect the right shades. When the words all fit into a perfect composition and I’m
certain that they are impressed upon my memory, that I can soon grab a pen and commit to paper, a sense of accomplishment emerges. As soon as my eyelids part to reveal the spark of eternal triumph in my eyes, the words in my mind inevitably dissolve in the deluge of light they are exposed to…the sense of triumph is crushed with the disappearance of the Magic Loop…and alas! I find myself left abandoned in my car, eyes wide open, caught in a traffic jam, raucous horns honking all around; and I look out of the side-window to see what appears as an amorphous vision of a boy sitting in the corner seat of a café, sipping his coffee, staring directly at a speck that is me and probably wondering about his own life…his own frustrations.