Towards the end of last week, the unthinkable happened. Oh no, no, I am not talking about Rahul Dravid finally getting a hundred before the spectators died of old age. The issue was a lot less exciting than that. I was about to leave for work when my car refused to start. Nothing worked inspite of me trying over and over again. Well, being an experienced IT professional, I applied the standard troubleshooting techniques. I took a break and had a cup of coffee.
Surprisingly, that did nothing. Apparently, automobiles don’t work the same way as softwares do.
So, I let my natural instinct that has evolved over millions of years to take over. You see, we men are born with an innate ability of understanding complex mechanics of machinery. I opened the hood of the car and peered inside and it immediately struck me what the problem was !!
That I was a pristine idiot when it came to automobiles. It was clear that my instincts had not evolved enough. I was looking at this lump of metal pipes with the same expression on my face that I had when I saw my 10th grade maths question paper or for that matter, my 9th or 8th or 7th…well, you get the idea.
But thankfully, my lack of automobile knowledge (and maths) has been duly compensated by my skill to give up easily. This way, I don’t waste too much time in trying to do things I don’t have a clue about (here again is proof that my male instincts need more work). I closed the hood and called the service guy.
The mechanic said he could only make it on the weekend. So I had to manage the next two days without my car.
So I was forced to borrow my uncle’s car. This was kind of scary because his was a brand new car with no scratches yet and I did not want to be the one to scar it. I was extra careful when driving it and made sure that I never went beyond 50 km/h, giving a chance to all the drivers to yell at me and make rude gestures when they passed me by (I wish when they close their car door, they slam it on their fingers).
But the worst part of the whole thing was that there was no radio in the car which meant that, yep that’s right, * I * had to sing the whole time !!. And unlike a radio, I could not even switch stations to shut me up and ended up enduring my singing all through.
Two days passed by, it was Saturday and the mechanic came over. The problem was with the car battery which had conked out and had to be replaced.
So finally, I have my car back, it feels great to have the freedom to drive the way I want, to have the liberty to scratch or dent or bang up my car. I can speed up whenever I want to
But most importantly, I can now turn on the radio…
Monday, March 31, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Don't curse your job, it could be worse
Ever woke up in the morning thinking “Damn, not another day doing the same old job"? Every one of us has felt at some point that what we do was the worst job in the world. That is a gross exaggeration unless...unless you are a specialist in curing piles and fistula. I saw this hoarding advertising a doctor who had expertise in this specific area of ailments, actually I have seen such hoardings many a time but this time it got me thinking since I was in an especially bad mood cursing my job.
How bad could my job be compared to his ?. Well, think about it...this guy starts off his morning looking at the business end of the human anatomy and that too, one which is not even keeping good health (Note that I have tastefully refrained from using the idiom ‘pink of health’). How much worse can it get from there !!! . His best day is when a patient just sits there and he can get to have a good look at the patient's face. An experienced doctor in this field would have learnt to recognize people not by their faces…if you catch my drift…
"Hi Doctor, It's good to see you after a long time, I was treated by you once"
"Oh, really ?...hmm...could you turn around please ?......Ah, Hello Mr. Das !!"
And there is not much these people can talk about when they get back home from work. When the wife asks "Hi honey, how was your day", what's he gonna say...??. Dinner time is especially a bad time for questions like these. I suspect a lot of these doctors are never overweight.
And don’t even get me started on pathology.
So the next time you start cursing about how bad your job is, you would do well to remember that you are probably much better off than a lot of others. But if you are a doctor feeling offended at this post, I should hasten to add that at least you are not a politician who, by the way, is always in the pink of his health…
If that does not satisfy you, I offer my apologies standing up...ok, now it’s time to sit down...ouch !!
How bad could my job be compared to his ?. Well, think about it...this guy starts off his morning looking at the business end of the human anatomy and that too, one which is not even keeping good health (Note that I have tastefully refrained from using the idiom ‘pink of health’). How much worse can it get from there !!! . His best day is when a patient just sits there and he can get to have a good look at the patient's face. An experienced doctor in this field would have learnt to recognize people not by their faces…if you catch my drift…
"Hi Doctor, It's good to see you after a long time, I was treated by you once"
"Oh, really ?...hmm...could you turn around please ?......Ah, Hello Mr. Das !!"
And there is not much these people can talk about when they get back home from work. When the wife asks "Hi honey, how was your day", what's he gonna say...??. Dinner time is especially a bad time for questions like these. I suspect a lot of these doctors are never overweight.
And don’t even get me started on pathology.
So the next time you start cursing about how bad your job is, you would do well to remember that you are probably much better off than a lot of others. But if you are a doctor feeling offended at this post, I should hasten to add that at least you are not a politician who, by the way, is always in the pink of his health…
If that does not satisfy you, I offer my apologies standing up...ok, now it’s time to sit down...ouch !!
Monday, March 3, 2008
Parody is always fun
Sherlock Holmes looked at Watson; he had that glow on his face that suggested that he had figured out the answer to Watson’s challenge. Watson had got married for the second time and he had placed a bunch of photographs in front of Holmes defying Holmes to identify the person he had married.
Holmes ruffled through the photos and finally picked one and handed it over to Watson.
“There you go, she is the one” he said
“My God, Holmes, that’s amazing !!…how did you even figure it out” Watson exclaimed.
“Elementary my dear Watson, when you have eliminated all possibilities then whatever remains, however ugly…..must be your wife”
Watson whacked Holmes with the nearest table stand.
“For a guy who is no Tom Cruise, you have the nerve to say what you did” Watson said angrily
“Who the hell is Tom Cruise ??. This is 1902. He won’t even be born for another sixty years. What are you talking about”
“Oops, my bad. But still, you have no business making derogatory comments about my wife when you yourself look like a cross between a lamp post and a fish hook”
Their fight was interrupted by Mrs. Hudson “Sir, there is a young lady who wishes to consult you immediately. She says it is a matter of grave concern”
“Please show her into the living room Mrs. Hudson but before you go, could you get Watson off my neck ?”
Watson relented and loosened his grip on Holmes.
“Well, I am sorry if I offended you John, but pray stay with me. I may require your assistance on this case. Let’s go see what the lady has to say”
Both of them walked into the living room to find an elegantly dressed young woman in the way that young women would dress in 1902, whatever that means. She seemed to be in her mid twenties and had a frightened look on her face. She rose to her feet on seeing the two men enter the room.
“Hello Mr. Holmes, my name is Victoria Brown. And since this blog writer has no clue about London or England, I can’t tell you where I live”
“Fair enough. I see you are in discomfort as you walk towards us. My powers of deduction tell me that you had a nasty sprain in your ankle possibly when playing a sport and I would guess tennis “ Holmes said confidently. He noticed the admiring look on Watson’s face, a look that he always enjoyed seeing.
“Well not really, I stepped on dog poop on the pavement on my way in.”
“Aha !!, precisely…the foul smell tells me it must be the damn poodle next door. ” said Holmes trying to save face.
“I believe that’s just you Holmes” Watson leaned forward and whispered softly “You really should change your socks more often you know”
“And maybe you should get a stronger mouthwash” Holmes snapped back.
He then turned to the young woman
“So what is that you wish to see me about Ms. Brown ?”
“Well, Mr. Holmes, I have this strange problem. I moved into my new house last week. And every few hours I hear this extremely shrill noise. I have tried to figure out what it is but haven’t been able to do so. I have never had a good night’s sleep since I moved in. I need your help Mr. Holmes”
“Most interesting. I would be glad to help” said Holmes as he began to contemplate on the mystery. After a few moments, he replied “I could donate a wad of cotton to stuff into your ears, Ms. Brown”
“I think she means that she would like you to investigate the source of the sound, Holmes” Watson said
“But of course. Tell me Ms. Brown, does this noise occur at the around the same hours everyday”
“Yes”
“And can you please describe the neighborhood”
“It is quite a busy neighborhood Mr. Holmes. There is a market right across the street, a library at one end and a church at the other and there is also a railway station a few blocks away”
“That’s it !!, mystery solved. What you have been hearing are train whistles Ms. Brown. It looks like you are amazingly dumb. And that will be 50 pounds, thank you”
After the woman had left, Watson turned to Holmes and said “This is the crappiest case that I have ever been a part of”
“Maybe but it takes care of this month’s rent. Well, anyway come on Watson, let’s go to the pub down the street. I will buy you beer”
“Thanks Holmes”
“Get the photograph of your wife as well. I will take another look after I am drunk. Hopefully, she will look better then” said Holmes.
Watson reached out to grab the golf stick lying in the corner. But Holmes was already out of the door….
[Post Script: Due apologies to Arthur Conan Doyle and to all Sherlock Holmes fans, I am one too. Hey, it’s Monday, cut me some slack here…..]
Holmes ruffled through the photos and finally picked one and handed it over to Watson.
“There you go, she is the one” he said
“My God, Holmes, that’s amazing !!…how did you even figure it out” Watson exclaimed.
“Elementary my dear Watson, when you have eliminated all possibilities then whatever remains, however ugly…..must be your wife”
Watson whacked Holmes with the nearest table stand.
“For a guy who is no Tom Cruise, you have the nerve to say what you did” Watson said angrily
“Who the hell is Tom Cruise ??. This is 1902. He won’t even be born for another sixty years. What are you talking about”
“Oops, my bad. But still, you have no business making derogatory comments about my wife when you yourself look like a cross between a lamp post and a fish hook”
Their fight was interrupted by Mrs. Hudson “Sir, there is a young lady who wishes to consult you immediately. She says it is a matter of grave concern”
“Please show her into the living room Mrs. Hudson but before you go, could you get Watson off my neck ?”
Watson relented and loosened his grip on Holmes.
“Well, I am sorry if I offended you John, but pray stay with me. I may require your assistance on this case. Let’s go see what the lady has to say”
Both of them walked into the living room to find an elegantly dressed young woman in the way that young women would dress in 1902, whatever that means. She seemed to be in her mid twenties and had a frightened look on her face. She rose to her feet on seeing the two men enter the room.
“Hello Mr. Holmes, my name is Victoria Brown. And since this blog writer has no clue about London or England, I can’t tell you where I live”
“Fair enough. I see you are in discomfort as you walk towards us. My powers of deduction tell me that you had a nasty sprain in your ankle possibly when playing a sport and I would guess tennis “ Holmes said confidently. He noticed the admiring look on Watson’s face, a look that he always enjoyed seeing.
“Well not really, I stepped on dog poop on the pavement on my way in.”
“Aha !!, precisely…the foul smell tells me it must be the damn poodle next door. ” said Holmes trying to save face.
“I believe that’s just you Holmes” Watson leaned forward and whispered softly “You really should change your socks more often you know”
“And maybe you should get a stronger mouthwash” Holmes snapped back.
He then turned to the young woman
“So what is that you wish to see me about Ms. Brown ?”
“Well, Mr. Holmes, I have this strange problem. I moved into my new house last week. And every few hours I hear this extremely shrill noise. I have tried to figure out what it is but haven’t been able to do so. I have never had a good night’s sleep since I moved in. I need your help Mr. Holmes”
“Most interesting. I would be glad to help” said Holmes as he began to contemplate on the mystery. After a few moments, he replied “I could donate a wad of cotton to stuff into your ears, Ms. Brown”
“I think she means that she would like you to investigate the source of the sound, Holmes” Watson said
“But of course. Tell me Ms. Brown, does this noise occur at the around the same hours everyday”
“Yes”
“And can you please describe the neighborhood”
“It is quite a busy neighborhood Mr. Holmes. There is a market right across the street, a library at one end and a church at the other and there is also a railway station a few blocks away”
“That’s it !!, mystery solved. What you have been hearing are train whistles Ms. Brown. It looks like you are amazingly dumb. And that will be 50 pounds, thank you”
After the woman had left, Watson turned to Holmes and said “This is the crappiest case that I have ever been a part of”
“Maybe but it takes care of this month’s rent. Well, anyway come on Watson, let’s go to the pub down the street. I will buy you beer”
“Thanks Holmes”
“Get the photograph of your wife as well. I will take another look after I am drunk. Hopefully, she will look better then” said Holmes.
Watson reached out to grab the golf stick lying in the corner. But Holmes was already out of the door….
[Post Script: Due apologies to Arthur Conan Doyle and to all Sherlock Holmes fans, I am one too. Hey, it’s Monday, cut me some slack here…..]
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