This is an old joke, but is still effective...
And if you feel offended.... it's your problem, mate...
One day, three consultants, one from Wipro, one from Infosys and one from TCS, went out for a walk.They were old buddies from an Engg College, and they were together for a college reunion...
For no apparent reason, they went into this zoo and passed a monkey. Being in the same business and from the same college, there was a little bit of a peer competition going on between them - they couldn't resist testing themselves against each other- especially the Infosys guy.
He said to the others: "Why don't we prove who is the best among ourselves?"
Why not, said the other two.
The Infoscion said "Let's have a test. Whoever makes this monkey laugh,works for the best firm".
By mutual agreement, the Infoscion took the first turn.Being a pure logical strategist, the Infoscion tried to make the monkeylaugh by telling jokes. The monkey stayed still.As a more practical consultant, the Wipro guy tried to make funny gestures... no good, the monkey stayed put...
Now, comes the TCS guy... being the practical guy he was always trained to be, he whispered something into the monkey's ear, and it burst out laughing at him.
The other two were astonished.How did this TCS guy manage to beat them? No way were they going to accept defeat so easily.
So the Wipro guy said "OK, let's take another test. Let's make this monkey cry!!"
So there they went again, applying the same methods as before.The Infosys guy narrated sad stories, the Wipro guy made sad gestures,and they failed again...
Then, the TCS guy whispered something into the monkey's ear and lo! Itstarted crying, patting the TCS er's shoulder!
The other two just could not believe their eyes!
So the Infoscion said "OK, you've won twice. If you can win just thisone, we will bow to you. Let's make this monkey run".
And he barked at the monkey and ordered him to run. Of course, it did not move.
The Wipro guy, true to his type, pushed and prodded the monkey- still no go.
So... here comes TCS guy, again, and whispers into the monkey's ear.
The monkey just takes off!
It runs and runs as fast as it can, as if itwas scared to death!
The other two surrendered. Said: "OK, we give up. You're the best among us, and you work for the Best firm of the three. But please,please tell us your secret," they begged him.
"Well", said the TCS guy,"
The first time I made it laugh, I said I work for TCS.
The next time, I told the monkey how much I get paid...so it started crying.
And then I said that I was here for recruitment!!!"
-one of the countless forwards in my mailbox
Tuesday, August 29
Thursday, August 10
Reflections: The Bonafide Certificate
As I felt my wallet getting lighter by almost three grands on that hot April afternoon, I was happy to finally have tickets to and from Delhi. It was third week of April, 2005 and the prep leave was staring down students at BIT, Mesra as the lull before the storm. For students from the 2k1 batch, it would have been the last storm before they get to stand up to the Vice Chancellor, on an elevated stage in a ceremony where the sheer number of people being awarded their degrees wears down those attending the function. Nonetheless, I had to brave another storm, one whose ominous clouds had been gathering on the horizon for quiet some time now in a far off land, Delhi.
In the preparation for my visa interview and the associated sanctioning of the loan by the State Bank of India, Ma had called me that uneventful afternoon wondering if it would be possible for me to come down to Delhi to sign some important papers and be present in person till the burden of the education loan is put on my shoulders for the next few years to come. As I quickly ran through the dates, I realized that I had enough attendance in all subjects to deny BIT the previlige of handing me a F* (which essentially meant repeating the class). Also, since the prep leave was just a couple of days away, it was not a bad idea to dash back home and come back in time for the final tyranny, the end semester exams.
As I walked into the canteen to break the good news to my gang, something struck me. It was almost 3 pm and I had another day to get a bonafide certificate needed for the loan. The certificate essentially stated that I was a student of BIT, Mesra and that I had been staying in hostel # 3 , yada..yada..yada..I almost froze. A cold sweat descended upon me. Anything to do with the administration in BIT was a pain in the @$.
Collecting my notebook from the table top, I bid adieu to my friends, not expecting to see them that evening. Walking in the high rise corridors, it was just another day at Mesra. Students walking out of classes, yearning to run to the canteen or the comfirts of their room. Teachers, dispassionate as ever, coming out with attendance registers in their hands with the borderline F* case students meandering around, pestering them to take a lenient view of the bunked classes. Girls, mostly shy, walked in groups chattering animatedly about how some professor looked at some not-so-worth-looking-girl during the lecture and giggled away. The ones with boyfriends, with an air of dominance around themselves, walked out as though the jailbreak plan was almost final when the siren thwarted their plan for freedom. All in all, nothing too different from a hot, sweaty summer afternoon in Mesra.
"Mji ka office yahi hai kya?", (Is this the office of Mr. M?),I asked the peon sitting outside .
To protect the identity of the concerned person, I would refer to him as 'M'.
Without looking up and paying scanth attention to my querry, he nodded in affirmation. Post 3'o clock in Mesra is time up for most of the administration. The peon was no different.
"Ka chahiye? Saahab beejee hain. Thori der me pata karna". ( What do you want? Sahab is busy, check out in some time).
I did not have the luxury of time on my side. It was thursday afternoon and my train left on Saturday. As I tried peeping through the curtain separating my view from the 'officer' who would issue me my certificate, I decided to let go the issue till Friday morning. After all, realistically speaking, I would not have gotten the certificate that day and my request would have anyways been pushed to the next working day. I walked off the main building cursing SBI for making me travel 1325 kms to Delhi just for a signature.
Friday morning was busy and I checked out Mr. M's office just before the lunch break. As I should have guessed, he was out. Anyways, I took the first step and filled in the application form with all my details which included the reason why I wanted the certificate.
Purpose: Visa Interview.
I walked off believing the certificate would be ready the next time I would walk in. Wrong again. At 1 pm, there was no sign of the elusive Mr. M. Infact, he had not shown up since morning. Bravo. I checked in at 1:30 pm again. No luck. At 2 pm, even the peon was gone. These were ominous signs of lurking trouble. It was Friday afternoon and I was leaving the next morning. At 3 pm, I was somehow sure that Mr. M would be in his office. And Bingo!! There he was. Since there is no reason for the administration to come on time or being receptive to the needs of the students, who end up coughing out a fortune for their salaries, Mr. M was relishing a small cup of tea with some 'guest' of his.
"Sir, I had applied for a bonafide certificate. I was hoping that it..."
"When did you apply?", he almost spat on my face cutting me short.
"This morning."
On hearing that a student expects things to be done within a few hours, as they should be, he almost jumped out of his rickety wooden chair. I had breached the invisible line of implicitly questioning the working of this man.
"What do you think of yourself? You think your work is the most important one in the world? Dont people have other issues to deal with?"
I was speechless. The lashing left me with nothing else to speak but to ask if I could expect it the same day. I explained to him how I had to catch the train the next day and why was it important for me to get the certificate. No use. He asked me to come the next day, raising my expectations with the sentence,"I shall see what I can do".
As I walked off despondently, it was another day lost. End of friday with nothing in hand. Saturday morning was my last bet in getting the certificate else my trip to Delhi would have been of no use. Instead of being filled with desparation, I was somehow determined to "extract" the certificate out of Mr. M.
Saturday morning. At 8:30 am I was standing outside Mr. M's office. My train was scheduled to depart from Ranchi at 2:30 pm and I had to leave Mesra by 1 pm at any cost. Going by Ranchi's traffic and roads, an hour is what it takes to travel 11 miles from Mesra to the station. (Looking back, I ride 11 miles now in not more than 10 minutes. Sighh!!).
M arrived at 10 am. I had already started to hate this name which somehow reminded me of stray dogs pouncing on unattentive passerbys. Hence the prefix 'Mr.' is dropped henceforth. As M took his seat, he was visibly not happy to see me around first thing in his weekend 'morning'.
"What do you want now?", he barked.
Now what does one say to such a question? His tone pretended as though I 'needed' something from him which was not mine in the first case. Not trying to mess up, I clarified.
"Sir, the bonafide certificate."
"Oh yes. Why do you want one now?", the cracking tone growing even more restless.
Without thinking too much into his demeaning behaviour or tone, I went along. I had no choice.
"Sir. I am travelling to Delhi for some paper work needed for my visa. I need the certificate for my visa interview".
"Visa? What Visa? Where to? Where are you going?"
"America".
"Amrikka? Why?"
What why? To design fashion clothes for Paris Hilton. Didn't you know that? I was loosing it with his incessant barrage of apparently senseless questions.
"Sir, I am going there for higher studies. For my masters degree."
"Where are you going? How do I know you are going? Whats the proof that you have a visa interview?"
These are the moments when one feels like kicking the person sitting in front, casually sipping his tea and totally cut off from the need of the time.
"Sir. I have no proof of my visa interview, but I have a letter of acceptance from my university", I retorted back, raising my meak voice for the first time in the exchange.
That did not go down well with M. He shot back, "Get me the proof. Then I shall think about the certificate".
What was he thinking? Was he thinking he could get away with depriving me of my right as a student? Sometimes the best way to cross a river is to flow with it downstream and walk back along the shore. I decided to show him proof. As I ran back to my room to get my hands on a print out from State University of New York ( I was supposed to go there before Carnegie Mellon happened), I was aware of the fact that this might be my last chance at procuring the certificate. Saturday is half day working at Mesra and I had a window of 45 minutes to get through.
"Here it is!!", I spoke as I walked into M's office. He was a little taken aback by my belligerence but decided to look into the A4 paper I handed over to him. Adjusting his huge granny-style rusted spectacles, he read every line carefully. I was confident that there would be no pretext left after this for not handing over 'my' bonafide certificate. As I started imagining driving on the Brooklyn bridge, I was jolted back to reality.
"I dont have time right now. There are many applications which came before yours. The certificate would not be issued today."
"What? What are you talking about? I am supposed to catch a train in sometime", I resisted.
"I am not responsible for your travelling or staying. Go out. Come on Monday".
There is an old adage in Hindi, "Jab ghee seedhi ungli se na nikle to ungli teri karni parti hai"(when its impossible to get work done the right way, hack!)
"Alright sir. I believe you. Just give me what you said in writing. That you shall not issue me a bonafide certificate even after 2 days and for no apparent reason except that your ego is too big. Please give it in writing so that I can ensure, through my means, that I get the certificate today."
Bombed. Numbed. Shocked. Speechless. Disillusioned. Melted. I dont know how to describe M's expression at my statement. He succumbed.
I had my bonafide certificate within the next 15 minutes. After much heckling, I had a piece of paper which would ensure I flew to America at the end of that summer. As the train started from Ranchi station that afternoon, I could almost smell the air in Central Park. At last, I was on my way...
Links to my previous posts:
Reflections: The Campus Placement (1)
In the preparation for my visa interview and the associated sanctioning of the loan by the State Bank of India, Ma had called me that uneventful afternoon wondering if it would be possible for me to come down to Delhi to sign some important papers and be present in person till the burden of the education loan is put on my shoulders for the next few years to come. As I quickly ran through the dates, I realized that I had enough attendance in all subjects to deny BIT the previlige of handing me a F* (which essentially meant repeating the class). Also, since the prep leave was just a couple of days away, it was not a bad idea to dash back home and come back in time for the final tyranny, the end semester exams.
As I walked into the canteen to break the good news to my gang, something struck me. It was almost 3 pm and I had another day to get a bonafide certificate needed for the loan. The certificate essentially stated that I was a student of BIT, Mesra and that I had been staying in hostel # 3 , yada..yada..yada..I almost froze. A cold sweat descended upon me. Anything to do with the administration in BIT was a pain in the @$.
Collecting my notebook from the table top, I bid adieu to my friends, not expecting to see them that evening. Walking in the high rise corridors, it was just another day at Mesra. Students walking out of classes, yearning to run to the canteen or the comfirts of their room. Teachers, dispassionate as ever, coming out with attendance registers in their hands with the borderline F* case students meandering around, pestering them to take a lenient view of the bunked classes. Girls, mostly shy, walked in groups chattering animatedly about how some professor looked at some not-so-worth-looking-girl during the lecture and giggled away. The ones with boyfriends, with an air of dominance around themselves, walked out as though the jailbreak plan was almost final when the siren thwarted their plan for freedom. All in all, nothing too different from a hot, sweaty summer afternoon in Mesra.
"Mji ka office yahi hai kya?", (Is this the office of Mr. M?),I asked the peon sitting outside .
To protect the identity of the concerned person, I would refer to him as 'M'.
Without looking up and paying scanth attention to my querry, he nodded in affirmation. Post 3'o clock in Mesra is time up for most of the administration. The peon was no different.
"Ka chahiye? Saahab beejee hain. Thori der me pata karna". ( What do you want? Sahab is busy, check out in some time).
I did not have the luxury of time on my side. It was thursday afternoon and my train left on Saturday. As I tried peeping through the curtain separating my view from the 'officer' who would issue me my certificate, I decided to let go the issue till Friday morning. After all, realistically speaking, I would not have gotten the certificate that day and my request would have anyways been pushed to the next working day. I walked off the main building cursing SBI for making me travel 1325 kms to Delhi just for a signature.
Friday morning was busy and I checked out Mr. M's office just before the lunch break. As I should have guessed, he was out. Anyways, I took the first step and filled in the application form with all my details which included the reason why I wanted the certificate.
Purpose: Visa Interview.
I walked off believing the certificate would be ready the next time I would walk in. Wrong again. At 1 pm, there was no sign of the elusive Mr. M. Infact, he had not shown up since morning. Bravo. I checked in at 1:30 pm again. No luck. At 2 pm, even the peon was gone. These were ominous signs of lurking trouble. It was Friday afternoon and I was leaving the next morning. At 3 pm, I was somehow sure that Mr. M would be in his office. And Bingo!! There he was. Since there is no reason for the administration to come on time or being receptive to the needs of the students, who end up coughing out a fortune for their salaries, Mr. M was relishing a small cup of tea with some 'guest' of his.
"Sir, I had applied for a bonafide certificate. I was hoping that it..."
"When did you apply?", he almost spat on my face cutting me short.
"This morning."
On hearing that a student expects things to be done within a few hours, as they should be, he almost jumped out of his rickety wooden chair. I had breached the invisible line of implicitly questioning the working of this man.
"What do you think of yourself? You think your work is the most important one in the world? Dont people have other issues to deal with?"
I was speechless. The lashing left me with nothing else to speak but to ask if I could expect it the same day. I explained to him how I had to catch the train the next day and why was it important for me to get the certificate. No use. He asked me to come the next day, raising my expectations with the sentence,"I shall see what I can do".
As I walked off despondently, it was another day lost. End of friday with nothing in hand. Saturday morning was my last bet in getting the certificate else my trip to Delhi would have been of no use. Instead of being filled with desparation, I was somehow determined to "extract" the certificate out of Mr. M.
Saturday morning. At 8:30 am I was standing outside Mr. M's office. My train was scheduled to depart from Ranchi at 2:30 pm and I had to leave Mesra by 1 pm at any cost. Going by Ranchi's traffic and roads, an hour is what it takes to travel 11 miles from Mesra to the station. (Looking back, I ride 11 miles now in not more than 10 minutes. Sighh!!).
M arrived at 10 am. I had already started to hate this name which somehow reminded me of stray dogs pouncing on unattentive passerbys. Hence the prefix 'Mr.' is dropped henceforth. As M took his seat, he was visibly not happy to see me around first thing in his weekend 'morning'.
"What do you want now?", he barked.
Now what does one say to such a question? His tone pretended as though I 'needed' something from him which was not mine in the first case. Not trying to mess up, I clarified.
"Sir, the bonafide certificate."
"Oh yes. Why do you want one now?", the cracking tone growing even more restless.
Without thinking too much into his demeaning behaviour or tone, I went along. I had no choice.
"Sir. I am travelling to Delhi for some paper work needed for my visa. I need the certificate for my visa interview".
"Visa? What Visa? Where to? Where are you going?"
"America".
"Amrikka? Why?"
What why? To design fashion clothes for Paris Hilton. Didn't you know that? I was loosing it with his incessant barrage of apparently senseless questions.
"Sir, I am going there for higher studies. For my masters degree."
"Where are you going? How do I know you are going? Whats the proof that you have a visa interview?"
These are the moments when one feels like kicking the person sitting in front, casually sipping his tea and totally cut off from the need of the time.
"Sir. I have no proof of my visa interview, but I have a letter of acceptance from my university", I retorted back, raising my meak voice for the first time in the exchange.
That did not go down well with M. He shot back, "Get me the proof. Then I shall think about the certificate".
What was he thinking? Was he thinking he could get away with depriving me of my right as a student? Sometimes the best way to cross a river is to flow with it downstream and walk back along the shore. I decided to show him proof. As I ran back to my room to get my hands on a print out from State University of New York ( I was supposed to go there before Carnegie Mellon happened), I was aware of the fact that this might be my last chance at procuring the certificate. Saturday is half day working at Mesra and I had a window of 45 minutes to get through.
"Here it is!!", I spoke as I walked into M's office. He was a little taken aback by my belligerence but decided to look into the A4 paper I handed over to him. Adjusting his huge granny-style rusted spectacles, he read every line carefully. I was confident that there would be no pretext left after this for not handing over 'my' bonafide certificate. As I started imagining driving on the Brooklyn bridge, I was jolted back to reality.
"I dont have time right now. There are many applications which came before yours. The certificate would not be issued today."
"What? What are you talking about? I am supposed to catch a train in sometime", I resisted.
"I am not responsible for your travelling or staying. Go out. Come on Monday".
There is an old adage in Hindi, "Jab ghee seedhi ungli se na nikle to ungli teri karni parti hai"(when its impossible to get work done the right way, hack!)
"Alright sir. I believe you. Just give me what you said in writing. That you shall not issue me a bonafide certificate even after 2 days and for no apparent reason except that your ego is too big. Please give it in writing so that I can ensure, through my means, that I get the certificate today."
Bombed. Numbed. Shocked. Speechless. Disillusioned. Melted. I dont know how to describe M's expression at my statement. He succumbed.
I had my bonafide certificate within the next 15 minutes. After much heckling, I had a piece of paper which would ensure I flew to America at the end of that summer. As the train started from Ranchi station that afternoon, I could almost smell the air in Central Park. At last, I was on my way...
Links to my previous posts:
Reflections: The Campus Placement (1)
Reflections: The Campus Placement (2)
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