Today is three years since I accepted slavery in the IT services industry. It’s been three years of working 12 hour days, being entirely uninspired by my work, and meeting only two bosses I could really respect.
I was a delusional English post-graduate student when I thought that starting work on the Ides of March would probably be a fitting thing to do. Like Caesar, I'd also go my own doom, to a job I didn't want to do, biding my time for one year—until my dreams came to pass.
Unfortunately, two years later than that one year, I’m still biding.
This post was started at Maharaja, about 18 hours ago, over some vodka and seafood while I was watching the traffic at Chakala go by. Interesting thing about Maharaja, really. The place is an upmarket, family nip bar, if you get the Bombay meaning of the word “nip”.
No? Well, it’s a place that serves liquor by the quarter and is usually frequented by some people you’d not always be comfortable around. “Good girls from good homes don’t go to places like these.” :-)
I began my sojourns there only once I got my first paycheck. I’d go with an intriguing, serial arguer who became a dear friend over the course of many evenings and too much vodka. We’d sit, watch the traffic fly gently by, and talk about cabbages and kings.
Last night at midnight, watching the traffic pool madly around Chakala junction, I realized where life had come to for both Bombay and me. After two years of battling Microsoft Learning, their crazed project editors, content development managers, and product planners, I was unwinding after another crap day at work.
Three years ago, at Maharaja at midnight, there were only BEST buses flying like they couldn’t during the day.