Of Grey Haired Men, Ancestral Chairs and Free, Bored Mice

I am enjoying work. Actually on second thoughts, the work is ok. But I am still enjoying the whole thing, the whole feel of interning. In fact, I already think, “Damn, just 6 more weeks to go, couldn’t it be stretched further?”

I wondered why. It is not about the company, err, the companionship I mean. I am surrounded by grey haired, forty year old men, who look like they have spent more than fifty years here doing the same thing for most of their life. Or probably more. And they do not talk cricket (well, some do talk about Tendulkar been the best, Yuvi the worst and the rest of them between the two of ‘em). I certainly don’t enjoy that. I mean I have no problems with them per se; in fact, most of them have been more than helpful to me. But, holding a conversation with them, well, that’s another story altogether.

And no, it is certainly not about money. In fact, the stipend that I would get, would only reach the doors of my bank account, once I am done with these two months (but, that also means that I will be richer by a substantial amount at one go!). That’s another reason why I should get out of this place quick. “To make a quick buck” as they say.

Then? I still wonder why…

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As I was writing this, I heard someone swear behind me. A volley of not-so-nice words left his mouth. He was probably talking about his boss. To another guy. As I looked at him, I realized that this was the same guy, who had afforded me a “Red Carpet” welcome on the first day of work. I was led to my work station. I sat on the chair assigned to me. Suddenly, I hear this same man, tell me to get up, because, it was his chair.

His Chair?

I thought, probably, it’s a part of his ancestral property that has been passed through generations. And he couldn’t stand seeing anyone else sit on it (no puns intended there). I was assured that was not the case. Anyways, I was polite enough to get up and hand it back to him as soon as he asked me to. You know better than to argue with people whom you do not know. If Murphy had his way, this man could well have turned out to be my boss. So, for me, the matter ended there. I searched for another chair and sat.

Some moments later, I hear him crib to someone else, in his native language that I happen to understand, “They should put Name Tags to the chairs, or else we have to start begging for our own chairs.” Begging? For our own chairs? I laughed. Almost too loudly.

Cynical? Sarcastic? I would say, Phhunny! “A Forty something man enters office. He sees something that makes his blood boil. Someone is sitting on HIS chair. He turns the chair around. Sees a 20 something guy. Me. He realizes his mistake. Realizes who I am. Apologizes for his misdemeanor. Begs me to return his chair. Begs real hard. I take real pity on him. I oblige.”

I never saw that man between that first day and today. Wonder how he tracks HIS chair, whenever he’s not in office. Probably uses GPS

Technology is such a good thing.

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Heard of “When the cat is away, the mice will play” I am sure. I am the mouse. The cat is definitely away. For the week at least. Unfortunately, have nothing to play with. No Gmails, and no Orkuts obviously. ICICIdirect is conspicuous by its absence as well. Rains in Bangladesh do not help matters one bit.

Hence, I am left with no play.

I also know that, ‘All Work and no Play makes Jack a dull boy”. Assuming the Jack and Mice tantamount the same entity, and based on the above assumption that I am a mouse, I certainly think that I have become a Dull Boy (Doesn’t the above hypothesis justify that?)

I just hope Cats don’t read Blogs.