Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
eMail ids for Dummies
Every now on then, we make a small mistake that goes on to haunt us for the rest of our lives. Now I am not talking about serious mistakes - like hurting someone, or causing some material loss or damaging a relationship etc etc. I am talking about those careless, niggling, silly mistakes that you make without realising, that don't appear to have caused any damage Prima Facie, but just give them some time and they come back to eat you alive inside out.
On July 4, 1996, Sabeer Bhatia launched the legendary email service, HoTMaiL. This completely revolutionized the way people and businesses were to communicate with each other in the coming years. Geographical barriers were shattered, distances vanished overnight. It paved the way for the 'e' revolution and also, as a small insignificant by-product, paved the way for one of the dumbest mistakes I've ever made.
Year 1999. The whole world was buzzing with the 'Y2K' fever. It was a glorious time to be in for a 11th standard boy who had just got a brand new computer and was exposed to the world of internet for the first time. And the boy had been waiting a long time for this. He had worked hard the whole year to get good marks in his 10th standard Board exams so that he could get
the computer. Needless to say, he had spent the last couple of months reading up any computer magazine he could get his hands on to familiarize himself with the mysterious yet fascinating world of computers. The 'Nerd' virus had slowly started spreading in his body. His friends had told him that one of the first things he should do on getting a net connection should be to create an email account on Yahoo!, the most popular email service at that time.
Fast forward a few weeks. The computer and the net connection have finally arrived. The boy goes to yahoo.com and starts creating an email account. He is asked to select an email id.
The boy thinks for a while.
The boy types - bunny@yahoo.com (bunny being his nick name, an unfortunate consequence of being an Indian(hence the concept of nick name) born into a sikh family (hence - bunny!! ) )
The computer replies with message:
"Email id already in use. Select another"
The boy thinks long and hard.
The boy types - 'bunny2k@yahoo.com' (please note the '2k' .. referring to.... guess....guess.... ok.. here it comes.... The Y2K bug!! !!! )
The boy smiles.
The boy says to himself - "Who's the man!!"
The computer replies with message:
"Email id already in use. Select another."
The boy really thinks long this time.
The boy types - 'bunny2k_2002@yahoo.com'
The boy had always been a little ahead of his time.
The boy leans back and smiles.
The computer replies with message:
"Congratulations bunny2k_2002 . You have successfully created a
yahoo account"
What the computer really meant to say was:
"Congratulations dumbass, on selecting 'bunny2k_2002' as your id. Your friends and complete strangers will laugh at you for this for the rest of your life"
Of course, the boy did not see this message. The boy was happy. The boy was now 'IN'. He had an email address to give to girls. He had an identity that was funny and witty.
He was - 'BUNNY2K_2002' !!! All Hail !!
Now, I can act smart and say that this boy was a very good childhood friend of mine who now resides in a mental institute with similar crazy fools, but the sad truth is that this boy was indeed me and I now work in a software firm with other IT professionals!
Sigh... the places where life takes us.
The email id still prevails.
It doesn't seem so witty now that the boy is 24 years old.
It's still the butt of jokes among friends and complete strangers.
Not so popular with girls either.
bunny2k_2002 - not so funny anymore. Damn, it even rhymes! Sob sob.
Fast forward about 5 years. I was in final year of college. I was working as in intern in a IT firm. I decided that I couldn't possibly give 'bunny2k_2002@yahoo.com' to others as my email id. Oh the shame! The humiliation!
So I decided to create another 'respectable' and 'formal' email id.
Now, there are 2 kinds of people in this world. The kind who learn from their mistakes and move on in life and then there's the kind who like to practice making the same mistake again and again and again till they become masters of creating bad email ids.
My 'formal and respectable' email id turned out to be ...... wait for it........ here it comes......
sukhbirsingh.ait@gmail.com
..
..
WHO PUTS THE INITIALS OF THEIR COLLEGE IN THEIR PERSONAL AND RESPECTABLE EMAIL ID ???????
Man!! That's got 'Loser' written all over it.
Once again, not so popular with girls.
Today, just before writing this post, I created another email id for myself.
This one on sify.
ribhkus@sify.com
In case you are wondering, that's my name spelled backwards.
You may laugh now.
"....with every mistake, we must surely be learning
while my guitar, gently weeps..."
-George Harrison.
On July 4, 1996, Sabeer Bhatia launched the legendary email service, HoTMaiL. This completely revolutionized the way people and businesses were to communicate with each other in the coming years. Geographical barriers were shattered, distances vanished overnight. It paved the way for the 'e' revolution and also, as a small insignificant by-product, paved the way for one of the dumbest mistakes I've ever made.
Year 1999. The whole world was buzzing with the 'Y2K' fever. It was a glorious time to be in for a 11th standard boy who had just got a brand new computer and was exposed to the world of internet for the first time. And the boy had been waiting a long time for this. He had worked hard the whole year to get good marks in his 10th standard Board exams so that he could get
the computer. Needless to say, he had spent the last couple of months reading up any computer magazine he could get his hands on to familiarize himself with the mysterious yet fascinating world of computers. The 'Nerd' virus had slowly started spreading in his body. His friends had told him that one of the first things he should do on getting a net connection should be to create an email account on Yahoo!, the most popular email service at that time.
Fast forward a few weeks. The computer and the net connection have finally arrived. The boy goes to yahoo.com and starts creating an email account. He is asked to select an email id.
The boy thinks for a while.
The boy types - bunny@yahoo.com (bunny being his nick name, an unfortunate consequence of being an Indian(hence the concept of nick name) born into a sikh family (hence - bunny!! ) )
The computer replies with message:
"Email id already in use. Select another"
The boy thinks long and hard.
The boy types - 'bunny2k@yahoo.com' (please note the '2k' .. referring to.... guess....guess.... ok.. here it comes.... The Y2K bug!! !!! )
The boy smiles.
The boy says to himself - "Who's the man!!"
The computer replies with message:
"Email id already in use. Select another."
The boy really thinks long this time.
The boy types - 'bunny2k_2002@yahoo.com'
The boy had always been a little ahead of his time.
The boy leans back and smiles.
The computer replies with message:
"Congratulations bunny2k_2002 . You have successfully created a
yahoo account"
What the computer really meant to say was:
"Congratulations dumbass, on selecting 'bunny2k_2002' as your id. Your friends and complete strangers will laugh at you for this for the rest of your life"
Of course, the boy did not see this message. The boy was happy. The boy was now 'IN'. He had an email address to give to girls. He had an identity that was funny and witty.
He was - 'BUNNY2K_2002' !!! All Hail !!
Now, I can act smart and say that this boy was a very good childhood friend of mine who now resides in a mental institute with similar crazy fools, but the sad truth is that this boy was indeed me and I now work in a software firm with other IT professionals!
Sigh... the places where life takes us.
The email id still prevails.
It doesn't seem so witty now that the boy is 24 years old.
It's still the butt of jokes among friends and complete strangers.
Not so popular with girls either.
bunny2k_2002 - not so funny anymore. Damn, it even rhymes! Sob sob.
Fast forward about 5 years. I was in final year of college. I was working as in intern in a IT firm. I decided that I couldn't possibly give 'bunny2k_2002@yahoo.com' to others as my email id. Oh the shame! The humiliation!
So I decided to create another 'respectable' and 'formal' email id.
Now, there are 2 kinds of people in this world. The kind who learn from their mistakes and move on in life and then there's the kind who like to practice making the same mistake again and again and again till they become masters of creating bad email ids.
My 'formal and respectable' email id turned out to be ...... wait for it........ here it comes......
sukhbirsingh.ait@gmail.com
..
..
WHO PUTS THE INITIALS OF THEIR COLLEGE IN THEIR PERSONAL AND RESPECTABLE EMAIL ID ???????
Man!! That's got 'Loser' written all over it.
Once again, not so popular with girls.
Today, just before writing this post, I created another email id for myself.
This one on sify.
ribhkus@sify.com
In case you are wondering, that's my name spelled backwards.
You may laugh now.
"....with every mistake, we must surely be learning
while my guitar, gently weeps..."
-George Harrison.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Sunday, Bloody Sunday
How do you think an ideal Sunday should begin?
This is how I think it should be.
The warm rays of sun slipping, dodging their way through the numerous rain clouds in their way before managing to slip in through just the right amount of gap in your window curtains, hitting your face with the softest of caresses, gently nudging you to open your eyes to see the beautiful world outside just as the timer on your computer activates and starts playing ‘Desolation Row’ – like icing on a cake – to finally wake you up completely and make you sit on your bed smiling, feeling good about life and full of hope about the possibilities that this particular Sunday might offer you.
You then lazily walk to the door, pick up the milk packet, go to the kitchen, make yourself a nice hot cup of hot chocolate and just crash on the carpet in front of the TV, watching the ‘Classic Rock hour’ on VH1 while reading the newspaper, without a care in the world.
Now let me describe to you how the Sunday actually began for me today.
8:00 AM. Loud banging on the door. Someone is also repeatedly pressing the doorbell. Since I was in the middle of a dream where I was an undercover spy hiding in a hotel somewhere in Berlin, I run to get my pistol. I am not really sure but I think the door-banging and the bell-ringing goes on for about a min or so. I finally manage to drag myself out of bed. Very, very sleepy. Open the door to find a big pool of milk on the floor outside the door, which is slowly dripping down the stairs to the level below, where a bunch of housewives in their night-suits are standing and shouting something in marathi.
Total confusion.
Then one of them realizes that maybe – due the fact that I belong to a land 1500 km away from maharashtra – I DON’T speak marathi. So she switches the shouting to hindi and I am duly informed that I must clean this mess of spilled milk and wash it down with water and also clean the stairs till the next level because there is some inspection in our society today to determine the cleanest and neatest building.
(blink) (blink)
What the (--beeeeeeeeeeeeep--) ?????
(--beep--) (--beep--) hell.
(--beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep--)
%$^&%(#@%!~!@#^%$#*&^%$#@
NOTE: This is a family blog. Rating – U/A.
The reality slowly starts sinking in. The pool of milk has been caused by this wild cat - i call her 'Billi' - that roams about in our building. Earlier the milk man would leave the milk packet on the floor outside the door and the 'Billi' would rip it open, drink about 5% of the milk, and let the rest flow down the stairs. Since then, i had hung this bag made of thick cardboard outside the door and lived happily thinking that i had finally defeated the 'Billi'. But, it seems that this notorious cat, 'Billi', had been secretly training in the ancient chinese art of 'Flying Cat Style' kung-fu, because today, she managed to make a 2-inch wide rip on the cardboard bag and then rip the milk packet throught the outer rip and drank 5% of the milk letting the rest flow down the stairs.
Cats are mean. I hate cats.
Anyways, the nice guy that I am, there was not much I could do about the situation. So I trudged back into the bathroom, filled up a bucket of water and poured it outside the door. Of course, since water has this nasty tendency of spreading in all directions when poured on a flat surface, a large quantity of it ended up inside my house – with a significant milk component in it as well.
Oh crap!
As I was standing there, with both my feet in milky-water, my eyes half shut with sleep, watching this milky-water slowly creep towards my carpet, imagining the smirk on 'Billi's' face and feeling the stares of the 2 housewives standing on the level below, something strange happened and the 35 year old housewife, that resides in all of us, woke up inside me.
I got into hyper-efficient mode, cleaned up the stairs, cleaned up the inside of the house and even managed to make some small-talk with the two housewives on the level below.
By this time, I had entered my Obsessive Compulsive Cleanliness Disorder and I started cleaning the dishes and ended up spending about 1 hour cleaning the whole kitchen as well.
By the time I finished all the cleaning up, I realized there was no milk in the house, and my sunday was officially ruined. Now the general store is just outside my society gate, but I was too lazy to walk down the 5 stories and since the phone of the general store wasn’t working, I spent the next 15 mins looking for a scrap of paper somewhere on my desk where I had written down – a long time ago – the backup number of the general store. By the time I finally switched on VH1, the classic rock hour had ended and they were showing 5 men/boys/(?) dressed in white suits, dancing in an airplane hangar. Bummer!
My life is brilliant !
And how was your Sunday?
This is how I think it should be.
The warm rays of sun slipping, dodging their way through the numerous rain clouds in their way before managing to slip in through just the right amount of gap in your window curtains, hitting your face with the softest of caresses, gently nudging you to open your eyes to see the beautiful world outside just as the timer on your computer activates and starts playing ‘Desolation Row’ – like icing on a cake – to finally wake you up completely and make you sit on your bed smiling, feeling good about life and full of hope about the possibilities that this particular Sunday might offer you.
You then lazily walk to the door, pick up the milk packet, go to the kitchen, make yourself a nice hot cup of hot chocolate and just crash on the carpet in front of the TV, watching the ‘Classic Rock hour’ on VH1 while reading the newspaper, without a care in the world.
Now let me describe to you how the Sunday actually began for me today.
8:00 AM. Loud banging on the door. Someone is also repeatedly pressing the doorbell. Since I was in the middle of a dream where I was an undercover spy hiding in a hotel somewhere in Berlin, I run to get my pistol. I am not really sure but I think the door-banging and the bell-ringing goes on for about a min or so. I finally manage to drag myself out of bed. Very, very sleepy. Open the door to find a big pool of milk on the floor outside the door, which is slowly dripping down the stairs to the level below, where a bunch of housewives in their night-suits are standing and shouting something in marathi.
Total confusion.
Then one of them realizes that maybe – due the fact that I belong to a land 1500 km away from maharashtra – I DON’T speak marathi. So she switches the shouting to hindi and I am duly informed that I must clean this mess of spilled milk and wash it down with water and also clean the stairs till the next level because there is some inspection in our society today to determine the cleanest and neatest building.
(blink) (blink)
What the (--beeeeeeeeeeeeep--) ?????
(--beep--) (--beep--) hell.
(--beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep--)
%$^&%(#@%!~!@#^%$#*&^%$#@
NOTE: This is a family blog. Rating – U/A.
The reality slowly starts sinking in. The pool of milk has been caused by this wild cat - i call her 'Billi' - that roams about in our building. Earlier the milk man would leave the milk packet on the floor outside the door and the 'Billi' would rip it open, drink about 5% of the milk, and let the rest flow down the stairs. Since then, i had hung this bag made of thick cardboard outside the door and lived happily thinking that i had finally defeated the 'Billi'. But, it seems that this notorious cat, 'Billi', had been secretly training in the ancient chinese art of 'Flying Cat Style' kung-fu, because today, she managed to make a 2-inch wide rip on the cardboard bag and then rip the milk packet throught the outer rip and drank 5% of the milk letting the rest flow down the stairs.
Cats are mean. I hate cats.
Anyways, the nice guy that I am, there was not much I could do about the situation. So I trudged back into the bathroom, filled up a bucket of water and poured it outside the door. Of course, since water has this nasty tendency of spreading in all directions when poured on a flat surface, a large quantity of it ended up inside my house – with a significant milk component in it as well.
Oh crap!
As I was standing there, with both my feet in milky-water, my eyes half shut with sleep, watching this milky-water slowly creep towards my carpet, imagining the smirk on 'Billi's' face and feeling the stares of the 2 housewives standing on the level below, something strange happened and the 35 year old housewife, that resides in all of us, woke up inside me.
I got into hyper-efficient mode, cleaned up the stairs, cleaned up the inside of the house and even managed to make some small-talk with the two housewives on the level below.
By this time, I had entered my Obsessive Compulsive Cleanliness Disorder and I started cleaning the dishes and ended up spending about 1 hour cleaning the whole kitchen as well.
By the time I finished all the cleaning up, I realized there was no milk in the house, and my sunday was officially ruined. Now the general store is just outside my society gate, but I was too lazy to walk down the 5 stories and since the phone of the general store wasn’t working, I spent the next 15 mins looking for a scrap of paper somewhere on my desk where I had written down – a long time ago – the backup number of the general store. By the time I finally switched on VH1, the classic rock hour had ended and they were showing 5 men/boys/(?) dressed in white suits, dancing in an airplane hangar. Bummer!
My life is brilliant !
And how was your Sunday?
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
A Day in the Life of...
WARNING: THIS IS BY FAR THE LONGEST POST I HAVE EVER WRITTEN. PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH IT.
DISCLAIMER: The events that follow bear no resemblance to any person living or dead - other than me. Any resemblance found would be considered extremely creepy and therefore must NOT be shared with me at any cost. These are actual events and have not been modified in anyway to make them sound funny.
A couple of days ago, one of my favorite bloggers, Scott Adams, gave a detailed description of his day on his blog. I found it quite interesting and have decided to share with you the detailed description of a random meaningless morning of my life.
6:00 AM - Woke up, silenced the alarm and sat up on the bed. Looked at my toes for about 5 mins. Now people like to do various things when they get up early. Some go and make themselves a cup of tea, some go for a walk/jog, some study, some do meditation or yoga. I have this really simple thing that I like to do first thing in the morning -- sleep some more.
8:00 AM - Woke up again, looked at the time, cursed, and sat up on the bed. Looked at my toes for about 5 mins. Still wasn't sure if I had woken up or not because I could vividly remember the dream that I had been dreaming... I am strangely good at remembering my dreams... In this dream I was a member of an elite assassin squad preparing myself to hunt down an enemy spy hiding somewhere in a big warehouse right in front of me. I was carrying a Desert Eagle and an AK-47. The bullets were of orange color for some reason. I woke up just as we were about to enter the warehouse. Anyways, thankfully, something inside me clicks at this point of time and I go into Auto-Pilot mode. I go to the door and collect the milk packet, go to the kitchen and begin to make myself a 400 ml glass of cold coffee. There are no clean spoons. I begin to wonder if I should wash a spoon or just re-use an old one. I don't remember how long I ponder upon this because I am still in auto-pilot mode. I eventually decide just to rinse the spoon with water and re-use it. The cold coffee more or less makes itself since I have been doing this for so long now that I don't have to think about the individual steps.
8:15 AM - I sit down on the carpet in front of the TV with my glass of cold coffee and stare at the newspaper for a while. I realize that the words are not making much sense, which meant I was still not out of the auto-pilot mode. My hand reaches for the remote and automatically changes the channel to Zee Cafe where last night's run of "Tonight Show with Jay Leno" is coming. I watch it again (having already watched it last night) for about 15 mins. Finished about half the cold coffee by this time. Still in auto-pilot mode. Not good.
8:30 AM - Switch to Star World and start watching 'The Simpsons'. This is another morning ritual. Watching 'The Simpsons'. In about 15 mins, I have finished the cold coffee, but, I am also beginning to get out of the auto-pilot mode, so it's all right. I don't *officially* wake up till I have seen 'The Simpsons' in the morning and drank about half a liter of Cold Coffee.
9:00 AM - Did 'thing' that must be done in the morning.
9:10 AM - Read newspaper for another 10 mins.
9:20 AM - Started watching India TV - the greatest news channel in the whole world. They show only 'Breaking News'. The other day, for about 1 hour, they were showing 2 cobras mating in some town near Delhi.
WITH RUNNING COMMENTARY!
AND I WAS WATCHING!!!.
They were also playing that haunting 'Nagin' tune in the background. Brilliant!
9:30 AM - Realize that I should probably start getting ready for office. However I need a proper setup before I can start getting dressed. This primarily consists of two things - India TV running on the television with the sound muted off and some music playing. Generally, I like to begin my day with some good ol' Classic Rock. But today, I decided to start by listening to some soft country music.
9:35 AM - Manage to find some freshly washed underwear and head to the bathroom. Suddenly the song "Tennessee Stud" by Johnny Cash starts playing. Now I really love this song and suddenly, midway to the bathroom, I realize that I DON"T know how to play this on the guitar. It sounded like a pretty simple song with a great Chord Progression. So I retreated my steps back to the bedroom, connected the laptop to the internet and searched for the chords of the song. At about this point of time, I made the decision that I would write about today morning in my blog.
9:40 AM - Decided to check my Orkut homepage for new scraps while searching for the chords. Not many people scrap me, but I guess that's because I don't scrap many people either. Anyways, decided to delete all the scraps in my scrap book... Remove all evidence. Found the chords of the song and started practicing on the guitar.
9:45 AM - Could play the song pretty well by now. Decided to practice some singing as well. This song really suits my 'voice'. Or whatever it is that comes out of my mouth when I blow wind through my "voice bone thingy". My fingers start to hurt by now because I haven't been playing the guitar regularly recently. I decide to stop.
10:00 AM - Go for a bath.
10:05 AM - Come out from the bath. Some horrible song is playing. Spend the next 5 mins making a playlist for the remainder of the morning. Really tempted to play "Tennessee Stud" once more but decide that I am really getting late now. Mentally declare Code Red. Well... Maybe not red but definitely Code Dark Orange.
10:10 AM - Couldn't decide what to wear. Started ironing a freshly washed trouser but decided that I didn't have time so picked out some already ironed clothes from the wardrobe. Suddenly realized that most of my casual clothes either belonged to the yellow or the red color family. Was confused for a bit as to how this ended up happening. Made a mental note to buy some new formal wear soon.
10:30 AM - Fully dressed. Have to go the university today to collect my degree. I graduated 2 years ago. Find my marksheet and put in my bag. Go through the checklist of items that I cannot leave the house without - 1.Mobile phone 2.Keys 3.iPod 4.Wallet 5.Sodexho coupons
Everything is in my pockets. All set to go. Switched off the laptop, turned of the TV and tossed the remote on the sofa, switched off all the lights, pulled all the curtains, closed all the doors, watered the plants, picked up the lock and suddenly realized that I hadn't had any breakfast!!!
Now they say that breakfast is the MOST important meal of the day. So, needless to say, breakfast must be had. I figure that since I am already so late, a few minutes won't make any difference. Went to the kitchen, managed to find a clean bowl. Served some Kellogg's Chocos into it and put a little bit of cold milk. Then realized that there are no clean spoons left. Stand still for about 1 min, looking at all the dirty spoons lying in the sink to see if I can find one which might be reused. Finally decide that i'll have to clean one after all.
10:32 AM - Bring the bowl of Chocos to the living room. Then realize that I can't switch on the TV because the remote is lying on the sofa and there is the carpet in between and I am wearing shoes and I have this self imposed rule of 'No Shoes on the Carpet'. The laptop is also switched off. So, I just stand there in the living room, in total silence, looking at a some freshly washed laundry drying on the clothes rack, and begin to crunch the Chocos. Soon I notice that the Chocos make a crunching noise which resembles footsteps and if I time the crunching properly, I can make it sound like a parade of marching men. Not the republic day kind of parade. More like a group of men marching victorious into a city. This train of though leads me into imagining that I am a general leading a troop of allied forces into Berlin after the surrender of the Nazis - while I am eating Kellogg's Chocos.
10:35 AM - Finished the chocos. Locked the door and since I am on a fitness drive these days, I decide to take the stairs. Of course, since my building does not have any elevators, I don't have too many options.
10:35:30 AM - Climb down the 5 stories in about 30 secs. Could be improved. Clean the seat of my bike and decide to start it by rolling it down the slope of the parking lot instead of the usual boring method of kick-starting it. Drive away.
10:36 AM - Realize that I forgot to turn on my iPod. Stop the bike on the side and ponder for a while which song to listen to. Finally settle on 'Another Brick in the wall - part 1' . Drive off again.
10:39 AM - The song changes to "Theme of Don". The old don... with Amit ji. This brings a smile to my face. "Don" is one of my all time favorite movie characters. I get into full 'Don' mode. Thinking like him. Acting like him. I happen to be in that part of my office-bound journey where I pass through a stretch of narrow winding roads. So I start imagining that the Police is chasing me and I begin to look suspiciously at passer-by's. I am sure I managed to freak-out a few of them. I have a very vivid visual imagination and I like to call this phenomenon "Hallucinations on Demand". Then comes the best of part of the song - the conversation between Amit ji (Don) and Helen (Sonia). It goes something like ...
Sonia: "Insaan yeh jaan sakya hai ki chaand aur suraj mein kya chhupaa hai. Par yeh nahin jaan sakta ki ek ladki ke dil mein kya chhupaa hai."
Don: "Mujhe ladkiyon ke dil mein koi dilchaspi nahin. Isiliye to aaj tak zinda hoon. Oh god! Getting late. "
Sonia: "Ek peg aur banaoon? "
Don: "Some other time baby!!"
Sheer cinematic genious!
10:43 AM - The song changes to 'Bitter sweet symphony' by The Verve. Now this is the kind of song that makes me want to look at trees out of the window of a moving car on a rainy day. But since my bike doesn't have any windows, I decided to take the next available option - looking at the reflection of the trees in the rear window of the car moving in front of me.
Now some of you may think that this is a dangerous thing to do, but I have practiced this art to near perfection. I just use all my concentration power to focus on the rear window of the car in front of me and making sure that the distance between us remains constant. Now since the car acts like a shield to protect me from on-coming traffic, if done on a relatively pot-hole free road, this is a fairly risk-free thing to do. I do this for about 2 mins till the trees disappear from the road and I have to make a turn. The next few mins pass uneventfully.
10:48 AM - The song changes to "Tennessee Stud" !!! Now I happen to believe that the best place to practice singing for a budding singer with no-voice is while driving on the road on a bike. The noise of the engine coupled with the music already playing in your ears drowns out pretty much all the cacophonous frequencies that come out of your "voice bone thingy". This way, the only people you creep out are strangers on the road who don't really matter coz you're not likely to meet them again. Although I stay alone and have the whole house to myself, somehow, singing at the top of my voice in my usually-quite house always ends up giving me nightmares for days.
Anyways, I spend the remainder of my journey singing "Tennessee Stud" on the top of my voice while passers-by look on.
10:55 AM - Reach office. Park bike. Climb up the 4 floors in about 20 secs. Not bad.
11:00 AM - Log on. Read mail.
11:05 AM - Start writing this post.
The End.
DISCLAIMER: The events that follow bear no resemblance to any person living or dead - other than me. Any resemblance found would be considered extremely creepy and therefore must NOT be shared with me at any cost. These are actual events and have not been modified in anyway to make them sound funny.
A couple of days ago, one of my favorite bloggers, Scott Adams, gave a detailed description of his day on his blog. I found it quite interesting and have decided to share with you the detailed description of a random meaningless morning of my life.
6:00 AM - Woke up, silenced the alarm and sat up on the bed. Looked at my toes for about 5 mins. Now people like to do various things when they get up early. Some go and make themselves a cup of tea, some go for a walk/jog, some study, some do meditation or yoga. I have this really simple thing that I like to do first thing in the morning -- sleep some more.
8:00 AM - Woke up again, looked at the time, cursed, and sat up on the bed. Looked at my toes for about 5 mins. Still wasn't sure if I had woken up or not because I could vividly remember the dream that I had been dreaming... I am strangely good at remembering my dreams... In this dream I was a member of an elite assassin squad preparing myself to hunt down an enemy spy hiding somewhere in a big warehouse right in front of me. I was carrying a Desert Eagle and an AK-47. The bullets were of orange color for some reason. I woke up just as we were about to enter the warehouse. Anyways, thankfully, something inside me clicks at this point of time and I go into Auto-Pilot mode. I go to the door and collect the milk packet, go to the kitchen and begin to make myself a 400 ml glass of cold coffee. There are no clean spoons. I begin to wonder if I should wash a spoon or just re-use an old one. I don't remember how long I ponder upon this because I am still in auto-pilot mode. I eventually decide just to rinse the spoon with water and re-use it. The cold coffee more or less makes itself since I have been doing this for so long now that I don't have to think about the individual steps.
8:15 AM - I sit down on the carpet in front of the TV with my glass of cold coffee and stare at the newspaper for a while. I realize that the words are not making much sense, which meant I was still not out of the auto-pilot mode. My hand reaches for the remote and automatically changes the channel to Zee Cafe where last night's run of "Tonight Show with Jay Leno" is coming. I watch it again (having already watched it last night) for about 15 mins. Finished about half the cold coffee by this time. Still in auto-pilot mode. Not good.
8:30 AM - Switch to Star World and start watching 'The Simpsons'. This is another morning ritual. Watching 'The Simpsons'. In about 15 mins, I have finished the cold coffee, but, I am also beginning to get out of the auto-pilot mode, so it's all right. I don't *officially* wake up till I have seen 'The Simpsons' in the morning and drank about half a liter of Cold Coffee.
9:00 AM - Did 'thing' that must be done in the morning.
9:10 AM - Read newspaper for another 10 mins.
9:20 AM - Started watching India TV - the greatest news channel in the whole world. They show only 'Breaking News'. The other day, for about 1 hour, they were showing 2 cobras mating in some town near Delhi.
WITH RUNNING COMMENTARY!
AND I WAS WATCHING!!!.
They were also playing that haunting 'Nagin' tune in the background. Brilliant!
9:30 AM - Realize that I should probably start getting ready for office. However I need a proper setup before I can start getting dressed. This primarily consists of two things - India TV running on the television with the sound muted off and some music playing. Generally, I like to begin my day with some good ol' Classic Rock. But today, I decided to start by listening to some soft country music.
9:35 AM - Manage to find some freshly washed underwear and head to the bathroom. Suddenly the song "Tennessee Stud" by Johnny Cash starts playing. Now I really love this song and suddenly, midway to the bathroom, I realize that I DON"T know how to play this on the guitar. It sounded like a pretty simple song with a great Chord Progression. So I retreated my steps back to the bedroom, connected the laptop to the internet and searched for the chords of the song. At about this point of time, I made the decision that I would write about today morning in my blog.
9:40 AM - Decided to check my Orkut homepage for new scraps while searching for the chords. Not many people scrap me, but I guess that's because I don't scrap many people either. Anyways, decided to delete all the scraps in my scrap book... Remove all evidence. Found the chords of the song and started practicing on the guitar.
9:45 AM - Could play the song pretty well by now. Decided to practice some singing as well. This song really suits my 'voice'. Or whatever it is that comes out of my mouth when I blow wind through my "voice bone thingy". My fingers start to hurt by now because I haven't been playing the guitar regularly recently. I decide to stop.
10:00 AM - Go for a bath.
10:05 AM - Come out from the bath. Some horrible song is playing. Spend the next 5 mins making a playlist for the remainder of the morning. Really tempted to play "Tennessee Stud" once more but decide that I am really getting late now. Mentally declare Code Red. Well... Maybe not red but definitely Code Dark Orange.
10:10 AM - Couldn't decide what to wear. Started ironing a freshly washed trouser but decided that I didn't have time so picked out some already ironed clothes from the wardrobe. Suddenly realized that most of my casual clothes either belonged to the yellow or the red color family. Was confused for a bit as to how this ended up happening. Made a mental note to buy some new formal wear soon.
10:30 AM - Fully dressed. Have to go the university today to collect my degree. I graduated 2 years ago. Find my marksheet and put in my bag. Go through the checklist of items that I cannot leave the house without - 1.Mobile phone 2.Keys 3.iPod 4.Wallet 5.Sodexho coupons
Everything is in my pockets. All set to go. Switched off the laptop, turned of the TV and tossed the remote on the sofa, switched off all the lights, pulled all the curtains, closed all the doors, watered the plants, picked up the lock and suddenly realized that I hadn't had any breakfast!!!
Now they say that breakfast is the MOST important meal of the day. So, needless to say, breakfast must be had. I figure that since I am already so late, a few minutes won't make any difference. Went to the kitchen, managed to find a clean bowl. Served some Kellogg's Chocos into it and put a little bit of cold milk. Then realized that there are no clean spoons left. Stand still for about 1 min, looking at all the dirty spoons lying in the sink to see if I can find one which might be reused. Finally decide that i'll have to clean one after all.
10:32 AM - Bring the bowl of Chocos to the living room. Then realize that I can't switch on the TV because the remote is lying on the sofa and there is the carpet in between and I am wearing shoes and I have this self imposed rule of 'No Shoes on the Carpet'. The laptop is also switched off. So, I just stand there in the living room, in total silence, looking at a some freshly washed laundry drying on the clothes rack, and begin to crunch the Chocos. Soon I notice that the Chocos make a crunching noise which resembles footsteps and if I time the crunching properly, I can make it sound like a parade of marching men. Not the republic day kind of parade. More like a group of men marching victorious into a city. This train of though leads me into imagining that I am a general leading a troop of allied forces into Berlin after the surrender of the Nazis - while I am eating Kellogg's Chocos.
10:35 AM - Finished the chocos. Locked the door and since I am on a fitness drive these days, I decide to take the stairs. Of course, since my building does not have any elevators, I don't have too many options.
10:35:30 AM - Climb down the 5 stories in about 30 secs. Could be improved. Clean the seat of my bike and decide to start it by rolling it down the slope of the parking lot instead of the usual boring method of kick-starting it. Drive away.
10:36 AM - Realize that I forgot to turn on my iPod. Stop the bike on the side and ponder for a while which song to listen to. Finally settle on 'Another Brick in the wall - part 1' . Drive off again.
10:39 AM - The song changes to "Theme of Don". The old don... with Amit ji. This brings a smile to my face. "Don" is one of my all time favorite movie characters. I get into full 'Don' mode. Thinking like him. Acting like him. I happen to be in that part of my office-bound journey where I pass through a stretch of narrow winding roads. So I start imagining that the Police is chasing me and I begin to look suspiciously at passer-by's. I am sure I managed to freak-out a few of them. I have a very vivid visual imagination and I like to call this phenomenon "Hallucinations on Demand". Then comes the best of part of the song - the conversation between Amit ji (Don) and Helen (Sonia). It goes something like ...
Sonia: "Insaan yeh jaan sakya hai ki chaand aur suraj mein kya chhupaa hai. Par yeh nahin jaan sakta ki ek ladki ke dil mein kya chhupaa hai."
Don: "Mujhe ladkiyon ke dil mein koi dilchaspi nahin. Isiliye to aaj tak zinda hoon. Oh god! Getting late. "
Sonia: "Ek peg aur banaoon? "
Don: "Some other time baby!!"
Sheer cinematic genious!
10:43 AM - The song changes to 'Bitter sweet symphony' by The Verve. Now this is the kind of song that makes me want to look at trees out of the window of a moving car on a rainy day. But since my bike doesn't have any windows, I decided to take the next available option - looking at the reflection of the trees in the rear window of the car moving in front of me.
Now some of you may think that this is a dangerous thing to do, but I have practiced this art to near perfection. I just use all my concentration power to focus on the rear window of the car in front of me and making sure that the distance between us remains constant. Now since the car acts like a shield to protect me from on-coming traffic, if done on a relatively pot-hole free road, this is a fairly risk-free thing to do. I do this for about 2 mins till the trees disappear from the road and I have to make a turn. The next few mins pass uneventfully.
10:48 AM - The song changes to "Tennessee Stud" !!! Now I happen to believe that the best place to practice singing for a budding singer with no-voice is while driving on the road on a bike. The noise of the engine coupled with the music already playing in your ears drowns out pretty much all the cacophonous frequencies that come out of your "voice bone thingy". This way, the only people you creep out are strangers on the road who don't really matter coz you're not likely to meet them again. Although I stay alone and have the whole house to myself, somehow, singing at the top of my voice in my usually-quite house always ends up giving me nightmares for days.
Anyways, I spend the remainder of my journey singing "Tennessee Stud" on the top of my voice while passers-by look on.
10:55 AM - Reach office. Park bike. Climb up the 4 floors in about 20 secs. Not bad.
11:00 AM - Log on. Read mail.
11:05 AM - Start writing this post.
The End.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Dream on...
One year ago, I started this blog to solve the 2 major problems of my life:
1. How to make tons of money.
2. How to find the perfect woman.
The plan was simple. I would write in the blog. It would be funny and witty. I would then publicize the blog using cheap publicity stunts like:
1. Emailing every one in my contacts list.
2. Shameless word-of-mouth publicity (read my previous post - 'Why the name?' ).
3. Chinese Water Torture technique on my close friends.
4. And last but not the least, using the greatest (cheapest) publicity tool available to my generation - The Orkut Scrapbook.
According to my initial analysis and going by the response I got to my first post, I predicted that the readership of my blog would be something like:
End of first month - 10
End of second month - 100
End of third month - 1000
End of first year - 1000000
Now, no matter which way you look at it, a readership of 1 million has got to be worth something. I figured one of the big powerhouses of the web world (Google, yahoo, Amazon...) would buy me out. I would have settled for no less than $500 Million.
So this would have taken care of the 'tons of money' angle.
Now, the 'find the perfect woman' part of the plan was a bit more complicated.
To do this, I would have produced and acted in a film with the superstar Rajnikant. I would have hired Hrithik Roshan as a "Dance Double", John Abraham as a "Face Double", and KK as my "Acting Double". The rest I would have done myself. Needless to say, this film would have gone on to become India's biggest hit and because of the presence of both a North Indian (me) and Rajnikant (THE South Indian), I would have become a house hold name all over India. Now since the film would be such a big hit, it would be invited as an entry in the Cannes film festival. And there, on the red carpet, I would bump into Angelina Jolie. Our eyes would meet, sparks would fly, my "Body double", Salman Khan, would kick Brad Pitt's ass, and Angie and I would live happily ever after in a vineyard in France.
The plan was foolproof. It had to work.
But somehow, as I sit back now and reflect upon the 12 months that have passed since I started this blog, I find myself with a bank balance that is dangerously close to 3 figures and the only "New woman" in my life is the new maid that comes to my house. She doesn't speak any language that I understand, doesn't listen to Classic Rock, is not a fan of Manchester United, doesn't play basketball and doesn't like English Literature.
And I don't think she's a model either.
Oh, and the readership count of my blog has not crossed over into that mysterious realm of 2-digits.
Crap!
1. How to make tons of money.
2. How to find the perfect woman.
The plan was simple. I would write in the blog. It would be funny and witty. I would then publicize the blog using cheap publicity stunts like:
1. Emailing every one in my contacts list.
2. Shameless word-of-mouth publicity (read my previous post - 'Why the name?' ).
3. Chinese Water Torture technique on my close friends.
4. And last but not the least, using the greatest (cheapest) publicity tool available to my generation - The Orkut Scrapbook.
According to my initial analysis and going by the response I got to my first post, I predicted that the readership of my blog would be something like:
End of first month - 10
End of second month - 100
End of third month - 1000
End of first year - 1000000
Now, no matter which way you look at it, a readership of 1 million has got to be worth something. I figured one of the big powerhouses of the web world (Google, yahoo, Amazon...) would buy me out. I would have settled for no less than $500 Million.
So this would have taken care of the 'tons of money' angle.
Now, the 'find the perfect woman' part of the plan was a bit more complicated.
To do this, I would have produced and acted in a film with the superstar Rajnikant. I would have hired Hrithik Roshan as a "Dance Double", John Abraham as a "Face Double", and KK as my "Acting Double". The rest I would have done myself. Needless to say, this film would have gone on to become India's biggest hit and because of the presence of both a North Indian (me) and Rajnikant (THE South Indian), I would have become a house hold name all over India. Now since the film would be such a big hit, it would be invited as an entry in the Cannes film festival. And there, on the red carpet, I would bump into Angelina Jolie. Our eyes would meet, sparks would fly, my "Body double", Salman Khan, would kick Brad Pitt's ass, and Angie and I would live happily ever after in a vineyard in France.
The plan was foolproof. It had to work.
But somehow, as I sit back now and reflect upon the 12 months that have passed since I started this blog, I find myself with a bank balance that is dangerously close to 3 figures and the only "New woman" in my life is the new maid that comes to my house. She doesn't speak any language that I understand, doesn't listen to Classic Rock, is not a fan of Manchester United, doesn't play basketball and doesn't like English Literature.
And I don't think she's a model either.
Oh, and the readership count of my blog has not crossed over into that mysterious realm of 2-digits.
Crap!
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
The right and the wrong way to fill petrol
Although I make a conscious effort to look at the events happening around me as objectively as I can, sometimes, I just can’t help being judgmental.
Take for instance the way lady riders fill petrol in their scootys/kinetics etc.
I went to the petrol pump in the morning. There was a huge rush there which generally is the case at that hour of the day. Of course, I don’t mind standing in such queues at all thanks to me iPod. So I patiently waited for my turn. When it finally came, I told the guy how much fuel I wanted, took out the money from my wallet as he was filling the petrol, handed him the money when he finished while simultaneously closing the fuel cap on me bike, took the change and held it in between my lips. With my wallet still in one hand, I dragged the bike forward with the other hand so that others waiting behind me could come forward and start filling.
Total turn around time – approx 30 secs !!
Now before all this happened, I saw this lady waiting in the queue. She was on one of those scooty things where you have to lift the seat up to access the fuel tank. Now, all the time she was waiting in the queue, she was sitting on her scooty. When her turn came, she calmly put the scooty on the main stand. Next she proceeded to remove her “White” gloves (??) and her Taliban head gear. Next she opened the seat and the fuel filling process started. After the requested amount of fuel had been filled-in, she closed the seat and dived into this huge bag that she was carrying on her scooty floor. I suppose she was looking for her purse because that’s what her hand came out with. She took the money out of the purse, waited for the change, put the change back in the purse and put the purse back in the bag. Then she put on her Taliban head-gear and her white gloves, put the scooty on it’s feet, pressed the electric start button and zoomed off.
Total turn-around time – approx 3 mins !!
I am completely against things like reservation and stuff. Even the whole cry about “women’s liberation’ seems kinda old and meaningless to me in the present times. But for once, I wish that they’d start having a separate queue for lady riders at the petrol pumps. And they should employ a lady to fill the petrol in the queue. That way, you create jobs for ladies, the lady rider can chat with the lady filler discussing the last episode of Nach Balliye and SIX guys can get petrol filled in the normal queue in the meantime. A win-win situation I say.
Now here’s the funny thing. Every thing I wrote above is highly exaggerated. So much so that it’s almost all false (the part concerning the lady rider). But - think about this honestly - how many of you actually believed what I wrote and didn’t think that I was just making this all up??
See ??
I think I’ve still managed to make a point.
PS: My sincere apologies if I’ve offended any ladies. Your comments are welcome.
Take for instance the way lady riders fill petrol in their scootys/kinetics etc.
I went to the petrol pump in the morning. There was a huge rush there which generally is the case at that hour of the day. Of course, I don’t mind standing in such queues at all thanks to me iPod. So I patiently waited for my turn. When it finally came, I told the guy how much fuel I wanted, took out the money from my wallet as he was filling the petrol, handed him the money when he finished while simultaneously closing the fuel cap on me bike, took the change and held it in between my lips. With my wallet still in one hand, I dragged the bike forward with the other hand so that others waiting behind me could come forward and start filling.
Total turn around time – approx 30 secs !!
Now before all this happened, I saw this lady waiting in the queue. She was on one of those scooty things where you have to lift the seat up to access the fuel tank. Now, all the time she was waiting in the queue, she was sitting on her scooty. When her turn came, she calmly put the scooty on the main stand. Next she proceeded to remove her “White” gloves (??) and her Taliban head gear. Next she opened the seat and the fuel filling process started. After the requested amount of fuel had been filled-in, she closed the seat and dived into this huge bag that she was carrying on her scooty floor. I suppose she was looking for her purse because that’s what her hand came out with. She took the money out of the purse, waited for the change, put the change back in the purse and put the purse back in the bag. Then she put on her Taliban head-gear and her white gloves, put the scooty on it’s feet, pressed the electric start button and zoomed off.
Total turn-around time – approx 3 mins !!
I am completely against things like reservation and stuff. Even the whole cry about “women’s liberation’ seems kinda old and meaningless to me in the present times. But for once, I wish that they’d start having a separate queue for lady riders at the petrol pumps. And they should employ a lady to fill the petrol in the queue. That way, you create jobs for ladies, the lady rider can chat with the lady filler discussing the last episode of Nach Balliye and SIX guys can get petrol filled in the normal queue in the meantime. A win-win situation I say.
Now here’s the funny thing. Every thing I wrote above is highly exaggerated. So much so that it’s almost all false (the part concerning the lady rider). But - think about this honestly - how many of you actually believed what I wrote and didn’t think that I was just making this all up??
See ??
I think I’ve still managed to make a point.
PS: My sincere apologies if I’ve offended any ladies. Your comments are welcome.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Hello Champa
Check out the conversation I had about 15 mins ago with this phone banking agent. This has been reproduced word for word.
Voice: Is this mister Singh?
Mister Singh: Yes.
Voice: Hello mister Singh. This is Champa (name changed – coz I forgot her real name) calling on behalf of HSBC bank.
Mister Singh: Hello Champa.
Voice: Would this be a convenient time to talk to you mister Singh?
Mister Singh: Yes Champa. This would infact be an excellent time to talk to me.
Voice: Mr. Singh, since you are a valuable customer of HSBC bank, we have some special offers for you.
Mister Singh: Oh really! How nice. Pray tell me about them.
Voice: Before I talk to you about the offers, I would like to confirm if you have credit cards from any other bank apart from HSBC.
Mister Singh: No. I don’t. I am very satisfied with the service provided by your bank.
Voice: The first offer is regarding balance transfer to other credit cards. We are offering this feature on very low interest rates.
Mister Singh: Hello?? Hello?? I can’t hear you Champa. Hold on…
Voice: Hello?? Mister Singh? Can you hear me?
Mister Singh: Hello?? Hello?? Oh the signal is really weak here. Let me move to a different place. Hello?? Can you hear me Champa? Don’t hang up.
Voice: Hello?? Mister Singh?
Mister Singh: Hello?? Yes I can hear you now. Go ahead.
Voice: As I was saying, we have 2 offers for you. The first offer is regarding balance transfer to other credit cards. We are offering this feature on very low interest rates.
Mister Singh: Oh. How nice. But I just said that I don’t have any other credit cards.
Voice: Oh! Right. Okay mister Singh. Our other offer is regarding HSBC credit cards. We are offering you up to 3 more cards absolutely for free.
Mister Singh: You mean I don’t have to pay after I use them?
Voice: No no no no!!! You don’t have to pay any yearly rental or initial charges.
Mister Singh: Oh! But Champa, what will I do with 3 more credit cards?
Voice: Well mister Singh, you could give them to your family members.
Mister Singh: But Champa, I am a bachelor.
Voice: But you could give them to your parents or brothers and sisters.
Mister Singh: But they already have Credit cards, Champa.
Voice: I see. Anyways, thank you for your time mister Singh.
Mister Singh: No problem Champa. Hope to hear from you again about more offers.
Voice: (click)
Mister Singh: (laughing.....)
I can’t help wondering why I hadn’t written about this topic till now. These calls irritate me like few other things do. And I am sure many of you share my feelings. I have tried everything from politely saying “No thank you” to rudely hanging up the phone – but nothing seems to be helping. So finally I have discovered this new way of handling such calls which serves three purposes. Let me explain.
As you can see from the conversation pasted above, this call must have taken at least a min- min&half , as opposed to 10-15 secs had I said no in the beginning. Now these calls are costing these banks money. How much money – is up to you and me. Here is my theory-
There are a billion people in this country. Assuming 50% of those fall in the age group of income-earners. Assuming 10% of those fall in the category of middle-class, upper middle class salaried or self-employed people. Assuming only 10% of those have a credit card. This comes out to be 5 million people. I receive on an average about 2 calls per day from these banks. So this comes out to be 10 million calls/day. Assuming you make each call last a min longer than it normally does, and at 30 paisa/ min, this comes out to be 3 million rupees/day. That’s more than 1 billion Rs / year !!!
That’s a huge amount. So, just by bull-shitting the bank agent a little longer, you can cut a hole in the evil corporate bank’s pocket to the size of a BILLION rupees. That’s huge man. For 2 min of bull-shitting per day!!!
Now comes the second angle to my theory. I really feel sorry for these call center agents. I genuinely do. I would hate to do a job like that. Talking to irate customers all day long-man that’s gotta suck!!! I am assuming someone’s randomly monitoring these calls in the call-centre. So if this guys listens in to a conversation like I mentioned above, he would think – ‘Ah! Here’s a satisfied sounding customer. I am sure the agent is doing a good job. I must recommend her for a raise”.
Needless to say, this will cut another hole in the bank’s pocket.
Finally having a conversation like this makes me smile for at least 10 mins. I think that alone makes it worth it.
Wot say?
Voice: Is this mister Singh?
Mister Singh: Yes.
Voice: Hello mister Singh. This is Champa (name changed – coz I forgot her real name) calling on behalf of HSBC bank.
Mister Singh: Hello Champa.
Voice: Would this be a convenient time to talk to you mister Singh?
Mister Singh: Yes Champa. This would infact be an excellent time to talk to me.
Voice: Mr. Singh, since you are a valuable customer of HSBC bank, we have some special offers for you.
Mister Singh: Oh really! How nice. Pray tell me about them.
Voice: Before I talk to you about the offers, I would like to confirm if you have credit cards from any other bank apart from HSBC.
Mister Singh: No. I don’t. I am very satisfied with the service provided by your bank.
Voice: The first offer is regarding balance transfer to other credit cards. We are offering this feature on very low interest rates.
Mister Singh: Hello?? Hello?? I can’t hear you Champa. Hold on…
Voice: Hello?? Mister Singh? Can you hear me?
Mister Singh: Hello?? Hello?? Oh the signal is really weak here. Let me move to a different place. Hello?? Can you hear me Champa? Don’t hang up.
Voice: Hello?? Mister Singh?
Mister Singh: Hello?? Yes I can hear you now. Go ahead.
Voice: As I was saying, we have 2 offers for you. The first offer is regarding balance transfer to other credit cards. We are offering this feature on very low interest rates.
Mister Singh: Oh. How nice. But I just said that I don’t have any other credit cards.
Voice: Oh! Right. Okay mister Singh. Our other offer is regarding HSBC credit cards. We are offering you up to 3 more cards absolutely for free.
Mister Singh: You mean I don’t have to pay after I use them?
Voice: No no no no!!! You don’t have to pay any yearly rental or initial charges.
Mister Singh: Oh! But Champa, what will I do with 3 more credit cards?
Voice: Well mister Singh, you could give them to your family members.
Mister Singh: But Champa, I am a bachelor.
Voice: But you could give them to your parents or brothers and sisters.
Mister Singh: But they already have Credit cards, Champa.
Voice: I see. Anyways, thank you for your time mister Singh.
Mister Singh: No problem Champa. Hope to hear from you again about more offers.
Voice: (click)
Mister Singh: (laughing.....)
I can’t help wondering why I hadn’t written about this topic till now. These calls irritate me like few other things do. And I am sure many of you share my feelings. I have tried everything from politely saying “No thank you” to rudely hanging up the phone – but nothing seems to be helping. So finally I have discovered this new way of handling such calls which serves three purposes. Let me explain.
As you can see from the conversation pasted above, this call must have taken at least a min- min&half , as opposed to 10-15 secs had I said no in the beginning. Now these calls are costing these banks money. How much money – is up to you and me. Here is my theory-
There are a billion people in this country. Assuming 50% of those fall in the age group of income-earners. Assuming 10% of those fall in the category of middle-class, upper middle class salaried or self-employed people. Assuming only 10% of those have a credit card. This comes out to be 5 million people. I receive on an average about 2 calls per day from these banks. So this comes out to be 10 million calls/day. Assuming you make each call last a min longer than it normally does, and at 30 paisa/ min, this comes out to be 3 million rupees/day. That’s more than 1 billion Rs / year !!!
That’s a huge amount. So, just by bull-shitting the bank agent a little longer, you can cut a hole in the evil corporate bank’s pocket to the size of a BILLION rupees. That’s huge man. For 2 min of bull-shitting per day!!!
Now comes the second angle to my theory. I really feel sorry for these call center agents. I genuinely do. I would hate to do a job like that. Talking to irate customers all day long-man that’s gotta suck!!! I am assuming someone’s randomly monitoring these calls in the call-centre. So if this guys listens in to a conversation like I mentioned above, he would think – ‘Ah! Here’s a satisfied sounding customer. I am sure the agent is doing a good job. I must recommend her for a raise”.
Needless to say, this will cut another hole in the bank’s pocket.
Finally having a conversation like this makes me smile for at least 10 mins. I think that alone makes it worth it.
Wot say?
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