For the love of Wall Street

Those towering buildings, those opulent cars, those brisk walking savants, those coffee paper-mugs - it was 11 Wall Street! And, as always, there had to be a horde of jobless people standing there, closely noticing the people with jobs walk. There was another horde, who wanted to get clicked with that stock exchange in the backyard. And then, there was a confused boy, quietly stuck to the stairs beside, watching what those with and those without jobs were up to. He did have a job, just that it wasn't there.

Suddenly, a gasping old man sat beside. In an elegant British accent, he said, "You don't look like the one, but do you have a cigarette by any chance?"

"I have a pack, but I wonder if we can smoke here", said the confused boy. He was in awe of the guards standing in front of "The NYSE". But, he did light up, when the feeling of enjoying a smoke at the "Wall Street" overcame his fear of everything else in the world.

The two sat down, each with a cigarette in his hand. And cigarettes held between fingers make the weirdest of people talk. From life in India to life at Wall Street. From living in a suburb in Mumbai to living in SoHo in Manhattan. From a back-end Management Consulting role to a front-end Investment Banking role. From a new joiner Analyst to a high-level executive. From immature phrases to sentences of wisdom. From a role model for the boy to a peek into the past for the man. And everything else!

The conversations were so brisk that the confused boy who had a pack of cigarettes when he came to Wall Street was now just left with 10. He did find a way to cut the conversations short. He had a flight to catch and the old man felt obliged to get him a taxi, when there was none. What next? Who could get a taxi at 10 am in Wall Street!

Suddenly, the man said, "Let me get you one!". He did something with his iPhone and within a matter of seconds, there was a Limousine beside. The boy didn't want to miss his flight, and just thought, "What the heck! How much more will it cost? Let me just take it!" He knew he had an American Express card with him.

He reached JFK, and asked the driver how much he needed to pay. The driver, in his African American accent, just replied, "Dude, it has already been charged to your credit card." The boy, totally surprised, tried to understand something he never could. There was a concept where you could book a cab with your iPhone and the amount gets charged to your credit card. Welcome to Uber!

Then, he thought of paying gratitude to the British man, only to realize he had left his visiting card along with the 10 cigarettes in those staircases beside the NYSE. He remembered a sentence the wise old man had said, "Sometimes - one of those very few times - good things happen to good people and they miss out to thank those better people who made those good things happen."

Dedicated to those forgotten better people who make good things happen to good people. Cheers!

If it's You, please don't read!

All characters appearing in this article are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Every morning, I wake up to a call from an extremely enthusiastic girl. Just to remind you of the fact that most males from my Alma mater have the luxury of getting such calls only from their mothers, colleagues or wives (courtesy the increasing trend of young people falling into that trap). Of course, I am young and unmarried and my mother would never dare call me in the morning.

Anyway, when it comes to that call, a winter morning infuses enough courage in me to touch the "reject" icon. But, she never understands, does she? She keeps calling me, once every seven and a half minutes (a made-up number) until I finally decide to give up. Even the wake-up caller at the ritzy Ritz-Carlton (no, they still haven't automated that) would have given up on me. When I finally answer the call, contrary to my expectations, she never seems pissed at me and carries her bit of enthusiasm all along. My bewildered mind keeps wondering how she could still do it, after being rejected far too many times for far too long.

The one good thing about this time of the year is that it is not quite uncommon to switch ON your television to the sound of a Kookaburra. And again, there are only two good things about cricket these days - Matthew Hayden's commentary and Led Zeppelin's songs, the only things that keep me from falling asleep again.

However, one fine morning, I did manage to frustrate the "girl" to the extent that she reported my stakeholders of my lackadaisical attitude towards work. And yet again, she chose the best time of the day to do that. This time, I woke up to angry calls and I was obviously mad at everything wrong in this world. Again, I turned to my savior, the television, only to witness a very unusual scene. I could listen to victorious chants coming from the Barmy Army men in limited-overs cricket. The conditions so lousily favored the batting side that even the English batsmen were slogging away to glory. I so much hate the usual lopsided contest between the bat and the ball. The day couldn't have been worse. Suddenly, a wicket falls, and there's Bob Marley.

Now, I'm not a Bob Marley fan. But, he somehow reminds me of that West Indian quartet of the 1970s - Marshall, Garner, Roberts and Croft. Of the 1970s, when quick bowling was about the eyes, the art, the concentration to unsettle a batsman. Of the 1970s, when commentators used to say, "I wonder if this would be at his jaw as well", "That would have broken his jaw, that's ALL RIGHT". Of the 1970s, when aggression meant aggression, when all was fair in love and war. So much unlike today when a batsman gets unluckily hit by a bouncer and dies and the pundits call for a ban on bowling such deliveries.

And, I could somehow relate it to the workplace of today. Of course, my current workplace is much more kind than the past one could ever be. But, isn't today's workplace about the aggression, the ruthlessness, the art of unsettling others, the schadenfreude, the going-to-the-extent-possible to break someone else (and not just jaws)? Laid-backs don't stand a chance here. There are hopes, there are dreams, but, like it or not, the environment breaks more people than it makes. The cricket of the 1970s happened for good, but I'm not too sure if the workplace of today will be do any good. Anyway, life moves on!

P.S.: For people like me, who, more often that not, work on discovering trends in women, celebrities, make-up products, Botulinum toxin, under-wears, infertility rates et al., we need to dream. Only then can we stand against the workplaces of today. So, just in case, despite the repeated warnings, if you're reading this, I have only one thing to say, "With a pretty fucking please with sugar on top, let me sleep!"