Honestly, I’ve run out of topics now. I don’t go out, I don’t watch TV, I don’t go for movies, working out is out of question and I have stopped reading completely. Usually that happens when you’ve broken up with someone. I happened to have got a job!!
This unfortunate incident happened the day I came back from Vrindavan(okay, Bubu and I went to Vrindavan again for the weekend early this month, but certain things that happened there are not commercially viable, so would keep at that) and received a call from some consultant informing me about a post open at Kotak Mahindra Bank. I didn’t care about the post, I was more concerned about the brand name, and went for the interview that very day. A few questions later(which to my surprise, came to know were all true), I was hired and told that I wont be on the bank’s payroll. I didn’t care again. Now, I am suffering.
Vandana, a dear friend of mine(clearly overstating ‘dear friend’), who got through in JP Morgan told me, these days banks do not employ plain graduates, they outsource the work to consultancies and therefore, no graduate is on the bank’s payroll. Which means, there would be no Offer letter from the bank, but from the consultancy. Now this’ something I fail to understand, will a graduate who thrives on his credit card for ‘impulse purchases’ and knows Grana Padano is not a car actually require a job with a bank that barely pays his monthly expenditure? We all join somewhere post-graduation for the name, the experience to show in our CV, but if we have to write we worked for some consultancy who served at a bank, what purpose does that serve us anyway?
I gave myself a deadline, a month here and I’m joining some course that will land me in a bank/company’s payroll. I never got to understand why I was never interested to do what others were/are still doing, MBA. A few of us don’t even know the full-form and want to do it!! Coming back to the topic, which I now realized I haven’t set in this post, I now declare myself satisfied with life. I have stopped complaining, I’m working, have an aim in life, I want to study, and it’s the first time I have told myself that in my 21 years old pathetic life.
Relationship side, it’s the same old story. But then, we get to read ‘happily ever after’s only in books, don’t we?
Job: Credit Processing Associate(CPA), Business Loans, Kotak Mahindra
Occupational Hazard: Sore eyes and continuous approvals from parents(even to not coming back home at nights).
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Friday, September 5, 2008
My first title-less post! (Ashamed)
Okay, I'll own up to it. And I can't believe what I'm about to do. Well, I couldn't believe what I was about to do when I was about to do it....... God, I'm more confused myself. I got my chest and legs waxed. Period.
I don't know how people are going to perceive me from now on, but I took it quite well, the pain I mean... in quite a pansy way, though. I again went to my only neighbourhood salon, Cleopatra and asked if they did it for men. They answered in the affirmative, but on enquiring further, they told me they did not have any male practitioners. Surprised, I decided to give it a try anyway.
The change came in me when I went to a party last Saturday night and saw my love interest looking at the shaved/naturally smooth, built bodies dancing around. Okay, I'm overstating the "looking" part, but I only thought to myself, if I don't try it now, I might never find out what hours at the gym has fetched me so far, if anything at all. And since Cleopatra was giving me 5 sessions for the payment of 3, my not-so-good business mind stopped working then and there.
The session began with my chest. And so did my 'ooh's and 'aaahh's. I knew it would be painful, but never thought the definition of "painful" would have to be so vast, not to forget, the burning sensation after each pull. "Ladko ko kya problem hai, ladkiya to aaraam se karwa leti hain",(What is it with Men, Women take it so easily) , They ended soon only to tell me the person who does the lower body was unavailable, which meant I had to come back again the next day and go through the gruelling session yet another time.
Day 2: With rashes all over my chest, I went to get a few more of them, this time on my legs. My Economics teacher from School(we called him 'Chattu', for his surname was Chatterji and we hated him, Happy Teachers' Day, Sir!) while explaining the definition of 'Utility' once asked us why we had to pay the barber for giving him our own hair strands. Similar was the case with me, just that I was exchanging hair strands for bumps all over my skin; very generous, yours lovingly, Cleopatra!!
The lower areas were more painful than the thigh portion, and this time, maybe due to a different practitioner, it wasn't that painful. And soon I figured, if done correctly, waxing isn't that bad an experience. And the fact that I had to come back again, to use up the 4 remaining sessions ofcourse, I was satisfied, my future with Cleopatra won't be so bleak. Now, 24 hours after waxing my legs, the rashes have subsided over the chest, my legs are still burning, I smell more of Lacto-calamine, moving naked around the house and every time my love interest calls for meeting up, I give some dumb excuse to not risk being seen this way.
So much for true love!
I don't know how people are going to perceive me from now on, but I took it quite well, the pain I mean... in quite a pansy way, though. I again went to my only neighbourhood salon, Cleopatra and asked if they did it for men. They answered in the affirmative, but on enquiring further, they told me they did not have any male practitioners. Surprised, I decided to give it a try anyway.
The change came in me when I went to a party last Saturday night and saw my love interest looking at the shaved/naturally smooth, built bodies dancing around. Okay, I'm overstating the "looking" part, but I only thought to myself, if I don't try it now, I might never find out what hours at the gym has fetched me so far, if anything at all. And since Cleopatra was giving me 5 sessions for the payment of 3, my not-so-good business mind stopped working then and there.
The session began with my chest. And so did my 'ooh's and 'aaahh's. I knew it would be painful, but never thought the definition of "painful" would have to be so vast, not to forget, the burning sensation after each pull. "Ladko ko kya problem hai, ladkiya to aaraam se karwa leti hain",(What is it with Men, Women take it so easily) , They ended soon only to tell me the person who does the lower body was unavailable, which meant I had to come back again the next day and go through the gruelling session yet another time.
Day 2: With rashes all over my chest, I went to get a few more of them, this time on my legs. My Economics teacher from School(we called him 'Chattu', for his surname was Chatterji and we hated him, Happy Teachers' Day, Sir!) while explaining the definition of 'Utility' once asked us why we had to pay the barber for giving him our own hair strands. Similar was the case with me, just that I was exchanging hair strands for bumps all over my skin; very generous, yours lovingly, Cleopatra!!
The lower areas were more painful than the thigh portion, and this time, maybe due to a different practitioner, it wasn't that painful. And soon I figured, if done correctly, waxing isn't that bad an experience. And the fact that I had to come back again, to use up the 4 remaining sessions ofcourse, I was satisfied, my future with Cleopatra won't be so bleak. Now, 24 hours after waxing my legs, the rashes have subsided over the chest, my legs are still burning, I smell more of Lacto-calamine, moving naked around the house and every time my love interest calls for meeting up, I give some dumb excuse to not risk being seen this way.
So much for true love!
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