Corporate Boredom

Although Mr. Dev is preternaturally kind, and has the most sympathetic tone of voice I have come across since KM Sir in school, I feel quite sheepish about approaching him for work. Today I asked him twice (just twice!?): "Can I help out with something?"

It seems almost evident to me that he really doesn't have work to assign.

After asking him (twice) for work, I sat at my provisional desk three cubicles away and listened distractedly to Beirut. Every twenty-five minutes or so, I would look fleetingly in his direction and then duck - hoping that he would notice me, but also hoping that he wouldn't.

When I was about to leave, I went up to him, gestured towards the exit, and said, "I should be off. Have to get the bus out." He nodded politely, and I felt like the flab on someone's arm. While striding out (ah, with legs as long as mine are, 'striding' is quite inevitable), I thought of how like a parasite I am - occupying prime office space, consuming coffee, gratis, etc.

Then I thought, maybe my not having asked for work a third time should be interpreted in light of some stout rebel in me - one that sticks its grisly tongue out at mammoth advertising corporations that have employees with proportionately-sized egos. But I suppose I'm a rebel only insofar as rebellion contains cowardice - for what prevented me from approaching Mr. Dev for a third time was just that. Comparable, I suppose, to the way a child who's just been snubbed by her benefactor might draw a bloated image of that benefactor with big, black teeth and purple hair.


  1. Ha Ha.

    How does it feel to be the flab on one's arm, Prax?

    And KM, the most kind and intent voice.

    Joy always,

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  3. Same pinch, sort of. Only, where i am is a home.

  4. Ha. "Same pinch" is a comforting phrase, smoodi.

    Good luck and I hope things improve (for both of us).


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