Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head

Not old, not young. Thirty one is a "very viable die-able age", to borrow from Arundhati Roy.

Just got a reminder this weekend when I had to undergo a minimal medical procedure.

What do you do when life hands you lemons?

a) Make lemonade.
b) Ask for tequila and salt.
c) Juggle with them.
d) Ask life to mix you a martini instead.
e) Make yourself a Lemon Drop Martini.
f) Squeeze the citric juice in your boss's eyes. ( Feel free to replace "boss" with your "ex" )
g) Give life a wedgie.
h) Sell lemonade at ten dollars per cup.
i) Make them into Lemon and Chilly talismans and hang them outside your house/ cubicles.
j) None of the above.

If your answer is "None of the above", please let me know what is it that you do?

This Thursday me and Amitabh were waiting for Prashant to wind up his day's work. I was actually expecting Prashant to drop me at a mall in Mulund on his way back home so that I can buy myself some casuals.

Something was keeping Prashant from calling it a day at 7:30 PM. What was that? Expectations. One of the project managers in UK wanted him to hang about in the office. Not because he wanted Prashant to fix something that might come up, but because he wanted Prashant to be updated with the latest status on a release that was being tested in the UK. Prashant would have been of no real help as his developers had signed off for the day. And the status could have been mailed to him anyways. By the way he also carries a BlackBerry. Amitabh who is the India project manager was not loving this. But the "relationships guy" that he is, he never really calls a spade a spade.

I have nothing to do with their project, but I could not resist from sticking my nose where it did not belong. I told them about my divisional manager in my first job.

Less than an year out of the college, I was mismanaging (with the wisdom of hindsight) the manufacturing of some equipment that were to be a part of a new plant for one of the biggest industrial house of this country. The project plan said that a shell had to be completely welded by end of the day and it was not. I made a decision that I was allowed to make. I asked the welder and his help to stay over for extra 4 hours and complete the shell. That would mean an extra Rupees 300 paid out as overtime. I left the shop and the welder called me up later in the evening to update me that the shell was done. The next day I was summoned by Mr. Min in his cabin at 8:30 AM. I was expecting a pat on the back when he actually asked me the reason for spending that extra 300 Rupees. He opened up the project plan and explained to me that the welding activity had a float of more than 7 days and that the project would not have been delayed if that shell had taken one extra week to complete. There I was standing in front of one my Gurus, admiring the power of critical path which until that moment was just a silly path got by forward and backward pass on a network diagram. I loved the lessons, but they came in front of Mr. Syan and I am sure he thought I was an idiot. Mr. Syan, who was having his morning tea with Mr. Min that day, was another senior executive. He had been Mr. Min's manager once and was one of my Gurus too. Thank you Mr. Min. Thank you Mr. Syan.

After recounting this incident, I asked Amitabh if he, the UK project manager, Prashant or their managers would ever want anyone to work extra hours, unless absolutely necessary, if they were paying for those hours?

Welcome to the world of software development, white-collar workers and loose project management.

This is becoming a more usual affair now. Often when I enter the lobby of my office building, I find a group of wannabees surrounding one of our CXOs and smoking their way to glory. The CXO would be smoking too, of course !

And this reminds me of an old tradition from Saurashtra, the land from where I come. The tradition of consuming Kasumba (opium-water prepared in a special way). The ruling class in Saurashtra then, the Kathi Darbars, used to be the hosts to what was called a Dayaro. Dayaro was a gathering of people who were favourably inclined to the Darbar, usually his courtiers. The riff-raff were not invited and the Darbar used to have class preferences for the Dayaro. The Charan had to be there. The Charan used to sing songs that praised the Darbar and his illustrious ancestors and their bravery in wars. Kasumba flowed and was consumed by the gathering often in expensive metal cups or even using their palm-cup, depending on the status of the host. Many decisions of administartion (Amal) were taken at such Dayaras. Opium was also called Amal. Many of those in the Dayaras were wicked or plain asinine, but they had the Darbar's ears. A Darbar under the influence of Kasumba.

Hope the Dayaras have not moved from Darbargadhs of Saurashtra to the Business Parks of the nation !