There are two men at the office who I think adequately represent the emotional highs and lows of spending from 9:30 (or 10:00) to 6:30 (or 6:00) in a basement.
The one who punctuates my day with joy is the chai man. I can't believe I haven't introduced him yet. He strolls the aisles of desks every couple of hours or so with a piping hot kettle of sugary chai, dishing it out to those who want it in little plastic shot glasses. Interestingly, you have to sign for every plastic shot glass you take--I'm hoping not to be charged at the end of my internship. Anyway, the affection I feel for this man and his inarticulate muttering, and the way he swings the pen attached to his clipboard so that it hits me in the face, knows no bounds. He is the office Santa Claus. I was strangely flattered when he accepted a piece of my chocolate yesterday.
On the other side of the coin is, and I don't know enough Indian names to give a good pseudonym, so I will call him, Mitch. Mitch! Every couple of days or so, someone says, oh, great, all you have to do is see Mitch and you'll be all set! I learned on my first day that "going to see Mitch" is like going to hang out in a black hole for two hours. It seems that everything I must do depends on him, yet he does nothing, therefore I can do nothing.
After my supervisor cheerfully told me to print some documents earlier--something I've been dreading for weeks--I managed to drag him down to the basement 5 hours after he said he'd come to hook my laptop up to the enigmatic and exclusive printer system. I was content to hover next to him, sipping my beloved chai, as long as it took, but watching Mitch performing his art did not inspire confidence. Eventually he was gripping his hair in his hands and moaning. Hm. He told me, it's not working, but he's going to check it out. That was two hours ago. Perhaps I'll just start etching things in stone.
I wrote a song while I waited:
I work in an office
I work in an office
kind of like the movie, The Office
but weirder
'cause it's India
darn it feels good to be a gangster (censored). good luck with the printing!
ReplyDeletethe office isn't a movie! also, that new show "outsourced" is basically the office in india i think.
ReplyDeleteTechnically, Tommy?
ReplyDeleteI think Erica, with her reference to the soundtrack, seems to have picked up that I actually meant to say "Office Space," dated as that may be for you kids now.
ReplyDelete