I hit ‘Print’ on the document just as I dashed off to catch the shuttle to the airport. I planned to pick up the papers from the printer on the way. I am quite organized and planned that way. No extra step is ever walked if it can be avoided. If I really am organized and planned like I just was swanking in the previous couple of lines, then I would not be dashing to the airport, like I am doing right now, you might ask. But that is besides the point and doesn’t really matter in the bigger realm of things. What matters is whether or not I made the bus along with the papers in hand, and that my curious reader, I did!
It is barely 5 o’ clock but it is depressingly and annoyingly dark outside. I settled myself on the cold leather seat of the comfortable office shuttle bus after a cursory ‘hi’ to the tight lipped driver. I felt instantly tired and that is odd considering I barely spent 5 hours at work today. Of course, not including the elaborate 2 hour going-away lunch for a coworker at the slightly upscale Italian restaurant with live-singing and all that jazz. Mention about lunch brings back a niggling feeling of being swindled off of fourteen bucks for a mere salad that I reluctantly ate cursing my homeopathic doctor all the while. Well, if you are to avoid seafood, meat, onions, garlic most primarily, not delving into a list of other insignificant edibles [or in-edibles] one is left with nothing but the starched tablecloth as an option for lunch. So it was quite my lucky day to actually have had a choice of fresh salads.
The Caprese salad, like the name suggested, was a simple affair. Four slices of tomatoes cut into identical and geometrically precise circles, by an experienced hand and a forged knife I would guess, topped with a generous layer of mozzarella cheese, a small branch of basil leaves perched expertly on the cheese, the whole matter floating on a layer of olive oil, gilded with a crisscross pattern of some brown sauce. [And that by the way is everything! Trust me!!]. The whole thing was quite appealing and I would have been quite proud and happy with my pick if I hadn’t really gotten a chance to glance at the other plates on the table. And given that I polished off my plate squeaky clean in a record time of 2 minutes and 46 seconds I did not have anything better to do than stare enviously at the rest of the folks working enthusiastically on their three course meals, quite justifying their fourteen dollars. Going Dutch does have its disadvantages for certain dogs on certain unlucky days.
Let me clarify I am not frugal by the usual standards, for good or for bad. Rarely would you spot me wince at shelling out exorbitant money for ridiculous things. In fact that happens to be my favorite pastime. But the nasty email that gate-crashed into my inbox just before I jauntily set off for lunch really pitched its tent in my mind. The contents of the email were very skillfully delivered in just three lines by my manager, a man (no wonder!) of few and effective words. He did not mince any words to announce the 10% pay-cut starting the first of January. We all knew it was coming but actually having a tangible amount and a date to it had quite a profound affect. A simple message. Happy New Year! And a lighter paycheck to go with it. So there you go, no more grunting and groaning under the weight of it while walking to the bank. They do watch out for their employees or what!! Someone up there surely has a sick sense of humor.
10% less. Now lets see what that would mean. One less shopping trip to the mall per month, no more visits to the spa [even with the enticing free backrubs and all that], fewer of those “I am proud of myself so these bunch of roses and a congratulatory pat on the back” moments, well, the pats can continue though. In other words a simple Gandhian lifestyle. Not too shabby, but think of the irony, I just spent fourteen bucks [for a 7 buck salad no doubt] for someone off to greener pastures to make twice as much as I make now and three times as much as I will make a month from now. Ok folks, now don’t make a dash to your calculators to figure out my salary, because for one my Math is quite rusty and then secondly I am prone to over-exaggeration. So don’t even try.
The arrival of the shuttle bus at the airport put a welcoming end to the tired train [or plane?] of thought. The only comforting thought for the moment is the eternal hope of getting upgraded to First Class and get a decent free meal for dinner. Cheap thought. But it did set my spirits right for the moment.
The airport is crowded like always. Delayed flights, missed baggage, family reunions, kids screaming, people running around frantically up and down the escalators.. Ah! The usual drill!! It used to fascinate me at one point, but too much of anything is not pleasurable. I darted adeptly around a little kid with a whimsical looking toy, a purple poodle I suppose, as I hastened to the Easy Check-In machines. The fact that I never really found them any easy is a side-note and I blame it entirely on my big and complicated first and last names and the way they are spelt [and mis-spelt] in various systems. Even the CSR agents at the counter fail to help me, well, they try to pronounce it and that’s not a good start.
A quick glance at the boarding pass for the departure gate tells me I don’t have to worry about the workout I missed out on for the last one week. I check my watch. Quite a race against time. A rich aroma of grounded coffee however makes me break my step. No, I don’t drink coffee, but my trained brain knows that there is a Eli’s cheesecake on-the-go kiosk right next to the Starbucks counter. I deftly pick up my favorite “Triple Chocolate Truffle” and pay the amazed woman behind the counter with the exact change. [And you did not believe me when I said I am organized.] If Eli’s teamed up with the airlines and gave me miles for every pound of cheesecake I ate I could make a free trip to the moon and back. With an upgrade to First Class.
Twenty minutes later I am contentedly seated in 1B with a nice view of the cockpit, the handsome pilot and his first officer [until the flight takes off that is]. I smile viciously as the people behind struggle to fit their baggage into the already full overhead cabins. The plane saunters slowly onto the runway and as it picks up speed towards the end of the runway I can sense the rush of adrenaline inside me, as always. But today it is for a different reason. I know that as soon as the flight is airborne they serve beverages and meals. And they are all free of cost. I pulled out the print out from my messenger bag. I know that the story is incomplete but yet the excitement was nonetheless there. The heading read “Fly on the Wall - By [our very own] Sisyphus”. From the corner of my eye I could watch the flight attendant heating the porcelain plates deftly. I turned the pages slowly as the words played a soothing affect on my mind. The humming of the airplane, the deafening noise, the pressure on the ears, the soft and reclining seat… slowly as I started drifting off into sleep the last image that lingered on my mind was the flight attendant walking towards me, tray in hand.
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Dating Rules
After reading a hoard of articles on dating from "Love and Zen: Tips to finding Mr. Right" to "18 Body Language Clues to tell that he is interested" there I sat, sweating about my date tomorrow. No, it ain’t my first date [well, first date with this guy actually] but it might as well be. Dating according to the-very-Indian me is not something that gets better with experience. Well, maybe there are a few things that you learn from past experiences like everything else in life, but then again every date is different and unique, be it good, bad or ugly. Talking about dating and first dates specifically, there is a whole new world out there. A dating dictionary that explains all the dating terminologies, dating jitters, dating etiquette, dating tips and tricks [?], dating do's and don’ts and the list continues. I ventured into this world all by myself, so there, no one to blame for it either. At least with the traditional arranged marriages one can go cussing and cursing parents, grandparents, customs, traditions, neighbors [well, why not? Especially if they are the inquisitive ones and keep a count of the many ‘boys’ who come to see you], the extremely itchy and irritating nine yards of ‘pattu’ [silk] saris and such.
All articles on dating start off with “There are no written doctrines for doing it right” and end up with a set of rules which, according to the author, if followed, will result in you showing off your bling-bling to all of your gushy girlfriends. Some rules are totally bizarre, like this one that says when women insist on paying their part of the bill it’s like telling the guy, “I could never be interested in you”. Who wrote it? My grandmother? Oh! And there is this other article about “How to Lose a Guy on the First Date?” and one of the rules is “Tell him that you are really looking forward to marriage!” Unless I am noticeably getting excited about spending his money in future or explain to him the difference between swiss, cross-rose and princess cut diamonds and tell him my preference why should that really freak a guy out? I just don’t get it. Maybe it is all the Indian upbringing and lack of exposure to the concept of having a boyfriend or a date since an early age that is making me ask such silly questions, so pardon my silliness, if that is what it is. [Just a pointer for men, there are articles on “How to drive away a man slowly and painfully”. So beware and be prepared.]
Anyways, all the tangential talk is not getting me any closer to stopping my profuse over-thinking and nervousness of tomorrow’s date. I never knew picking out a dress involved so much of rocket science before all this dating business started. Not too short, not too long, not too tight, not too loose, not too flashy, not too dull, heck, I cannot wear my comfy oversized gray sweatshirt is what you are saying? I did go ‘pshaw!’ to warnings from other experienced girl friends of mine about the dress code for dating until one date when the guy waltzed in, in a free “Sign up for Ameritech” T. Though I don’t go judging a guy by what he wears this was really pushing it over the edge. At the same time, this other time I was totally creeped out when the guy took dressing up too seriously and ended up in a blazer, tie and crisp, razor-edge creased shirt so buttoned up to the top that I don’t know if I was imagining or really saw him turn pale and bloodless in the face after a while. Finally I accepted that dress code for a date is not really that overrated like I originally thought.
I pruned and preened my fingernails and toenails meticulously; trying hard to remember the last time I had a professional manicure done. Then it came back, in a torrent, the memory. It was the date I had with the Seattle guy; let us call him Venkat for convenience and to make him sound real. Venkat is your typical energetic, smart and ambitious eligible Indian male. This was in the beginning of my dating career. I think it was my very first official date and I think it was his first time too. Two dating novices, we made plans for the meet. Where to meet, when to meet, what flight, whether or not he will pick me up, yada yada yada. But what did not occur to us was to discuss what we would do on meeting. It would be my first time to Seattle and so I did not really know what to expect other than the famous quaint coffee shops and the grunge music. So off I went in my favorite long velvet skirt, dangling earrings and pointed heels, looking almost hippie-ish. The outdoors loving guy had small hikes planned for us to spend time between our meals and to chat. The outdoors loving girl thought that the idea was great except that stilettos are just not made for hiking. So the first day went with me wincing at every step. But the great surprise came the day after when Venkat casually announces, “Plan for the day – rock climbing”.
And very considerately added “Don’t worry, we can rent climbing shoes.” But how will a guy ever comprehend the agony associated with watching your neatly French-manicured nails chip off little by little.
Life goes on. I finished making a mental list of all the neighborhood restaurants and directions. All I hoped at this point is that my current date knows what he wants to eat and doesn’t leave the burden on me to decide what he would like. Long distance adds a different dimension to dating that has not been extensively written in the dating articles. My date is flying all the way from New York to here. And it is his first time in Chicago. What would he be expecting to see? Me? Chicago? I don’t know. It was just so much easier to fly in, meet the guy, let him do the planning and fly back. Yes, of course there are ordeals like rock climbing to put up with. [Before any Rock Climbing enthusiasts especially the west coast folks pounce on me for what seems like ridiculing the fine sport of the times, let me tell you I love rock climbing. No seriously, I do! I suck at it, but that’s a different story, or maybe the same story, because I don’t like making a fool of myself in front of a stranger]. The only other time when a guy flew in to meet me it was a total disaster.
So here comes date number 2. Mistake number 1 – He doesn’t ask me what airport is closest to me before buying ticket. I drive an hour and a half to pick him up from the airport. First mistake, so some slack is cut by very generous me. Mistake number 2 – [already mentioned before] wears free Ameritech T shirt. I make a legible note in my list of unpardonable sins. Mistake number 3 –After making a brash announcement that he is very hungry he refuses to co-operate with me to pick any cuisine or restaurant by shrugging shoulders and very benevolently adding “I am ok with anything.” Brushing away the three mistakes I walked with him to some restaurant I picked, me looking like I dressed up for the Emmy’s in contrast to my companion. We sit down; the waiter with a cheery face walks over to take the order. My date goes “I am ok with anything.” The waiter turned around towards me, hopefully. I, quite perplexed to find myself in an unprecedented situation, place my order and smiled at the waiter indicating that I am done. Later I felt sorry and I ordered something for the poor guy. But by the end of the day I must have heard the same line over and over again [is this music ok for you? – I am ok with anything. What do you think of watching a movie? – I am ok with anything. Do you want to call it an evening? – I am ok with anything!!] that it was ringing in my ears long after the guy left to wherever he came from.
I could go on and on about first date horrors, but that isn’t the intent of the blog. But what is the intent of the blog, I ask myself? Silence echoes. So anyways, since I have come to the end of my dating gibberish [or rather I am just tired typing], I think it is only fair to follow the unwritten law and lay down my set of rules for dating No-No’s.
In no particular order, here are my pet peeves regarding dating:
• The bed-head look might take your cute-quotient up a notch maybe, but brushing your teeth really helps. Pop in a mint [even though you have no plans of kissing on the first date] before the date, unless the restaurant you plan to take her has 10 feet long tables for couples. So don’t jump right out of bed for a date.
• NEVER greet a woman with a Yo! And don’t slap her back when she says something funny.
• Don’t spring surprises like rock climbing, batting cages etc on unsuspecting women who must have spent a fortune at Mario Tricoci’s trying to impress you with fancily done nails.
• Take dressing a little bit more seriously than going to a baseball game in summer with your friends. But at the same time don’t show up in vintage brand name clothing and make her wardrobe look like pathetic trash unless you really are a dot com millionaire.
• “I don’t mind any kind of food” is not really the most thrilling answer to a woman who is planning on picking one restaurant from a hundred available ones. Having an opinion helps.
• Don’t ever reveal your true intentions that you are there in the dating market because all your drinking buddies are either married or hooked up with other girls. It doesn’t really make a woman feel too special.
• The fact that you never relinquish the remote when there is a football game doesn’t really fall in the brag department.
• Talk about fashions, mani-pedi combos, the colors of the turtlenecks in your wardrobe, the number of shoes/belts in your closet, perfume brand names, Ricky Martin, Russell Crowe are topics that we surely do enjoy. But with our girl friends!! Unless we are looking for a partner to watch “Will and Grace” with.
• The next worst thing to bringing your mom on your first date is to keep talking about her [with misty eyes]. Your mom, your idol, your little secret. How about that?
• Being technology savvy is cool. But arriving on your date with a whole slew of gizmos, like iPods, camera cell phone with inbuilt Java server that runs practically any application written in Java, GPS [unless you are really really bad with directions and don’t mind admitting it], laptops with built-in airbags [remember the IBM notebook ad?] etc scream “NERD” rather than cool. So beware unless that IS the image that you are trying to project.
• DON’T pick up every single call on your cell phone. Even worse, don’t tell all your friends that you are on a date. Not only is it something that we don’t want to be published on the front pages of the newspaper and discussed on DB, it also gives away that you are very excited that you finally found a date.
• Please don’t make a big scene about picking up the tab. If the woman insists then let her pay. At the same time if you want the woman to pick it up too, somehow drop a hint about going Dutch. There is a risk of coming out as cheap, but get your priorities straight.
• The date you bagged with the extremely cute looking blonde when you were a TA might impress your drinking buddies at the bar. So save those details and spare us.
• There is a subtle difference between being chivalrous and being a snob. Open the door for the lady but do not order food for her.
The list is definitely not exhaustive so I will feel free to come back and edit it whenever I please. After all, it is my blog. After saying this I feel compelled to add a standard disclaimer that all opinions presented here are mine and entirely mine. I speak for myself and only myself. Most of the situations presented here are hypothetical but very much possible and realistic, so no relationship/dating advice, thank you!! Boys, I know that you can come up with plenty of dating mistakes that women do and advices. So feel free.
All articles on dating start off with “There are no written doctrines for doing it right” and end up with a set of rules which, according to the author, if followed, will result in you showing off your bling-bling to all of your gushy girlfriends. Some rules are totally bizarre, like this one that says when women insist on paying their part of the bill it’s like telling the guy, “I could never be interested in you”. Who wrote it? My grandmother? Oh! And there is this other article about “How to Lose a Guy on the First Date?” and one of the rules is “Tell him that you are really looking forward to marriage!” Unless I am noticeably getting excited about spending his money in future or explain to him the difference between swiss, cross-rose and princess cut diamonds and tell him my preference why should that really freak a guy out? I just don’t get it. Maybe it is all the Indian upbringing and lack of exposure to the concept of having a boyfriend or a date since an early age that is making me ask such silly questions, so pardon my silliness, if that is what it is. [Just a pointer for men, there are articles on “How to drive away a man slowly and painfully”. So beware and be prepared.]
Anyways, all the tangential talk is not getting me any closer to stopping my profuse over-thinking and nervousness of tomorrow’s date. I never knew picking out a dress involved so much of rocket science before all this dating business started. Not too short, not too long, not too tight, not too loose, not too flashy, not too dull, heck, I cannot wear my comfy oversized gray sweatshirt is what you are saying? I did go ‘pshaw!’ to warnings from other experienced girl friends of mine about the dress code for dating until one date when the guy waltzed in, in a free “Sign up for Ameritech” T. Though I don’t go judging a guy by what he wears this was really pushing it over the edge. At the same time, this other time I was totally creeped out when the guy took dressing up too seriously and ended up in a blazer, tie and crisp, razor-edge creased shirt so buttoned up to the top that I don’t know if I was imagining or really saw him turn pale and bloodless in the face after a while. Finally I accepted that dress code for a date is not really that overrated like I originally thought.
I pruned and preened my fingernails and toenails meticulously; trying hard to remember the last time I had a professional manicure done. Then it came back, in a torrent, the memory. It was the date I had with the Seattle guy; let us call him Venkat for convenience and to make him sound real. Venkat is your typical energetic, smart and ambitious eligible Indian male. This was in the beginning of my dating career. I think it was my very first official date and I think it was his first time too. Two dating novices, we made plans for the meet. Where to meet, when to meet, what flight, whether or not he will pick me up, yada yada yada. But what did not occur to us was to discuss what we would do on meeting. It would be my first time to Seattle and so I did not really know what to expect other than the famous quaint coffee shops and the grunge music. So off I went in my favorite long velvet skirt, dangling earrings and pointed heels, looking almost hippie-ish. The outdoors loving guy had small hikes planned for us to spend time between our meals and to chat. The outdoors loving girl thought that the idea was great except that stilettos are just not made for hiking. So the first day went with me wincing at every step. But the great surprise came the day after when Venkat casually announces, “Plan for the day – rock climbing”.
And very considerately added “Don’t worry, we can rent climbing shoes.” But how will a guy ever comprehend the agony associated with watching your neatly French-manicured nails chip off little by little.
Life goes on. I finished making a mental list of all the neighborhood restaurants and directions. All I hoped at this point is that my current date knows what he wants to eat and doesn’t leave the burden on me to decide what he would like. Long distance adds a different dimension to dating that has not been extensively written in the dating articles. My date is flying all the way from New York to here. And it is his first time in Chicago. What would he be expecting to see? Me? Chicago? I don’t know. It was just so much easier to fly in, meet the guy, let him do the planning and fly back. Yes, of course there are ordeals like rock climbing to put up with. [Before any Rock Climbing enthusiasts especially the west coast folks pounce on me for what seems like ridiculing the fine sport of the times, let me tell you I love rock climbing. No seriously, I do! I suck at it, but that’s a different story, or maybe the same story, because I don’t like making a fool of myself in front of a stranger]. The only other time when a guy flew in to meet me it was a total disaster.
So here comes date number 2. Mistake number 1 – He doesn’t ask me what airport is closest to me before buying ticket. I drive an hour and a half to pick him up from the airport. First mistake, so some slack is cut by very generous me. Mistake number 2 – [already mentioned before] wears free Ameritech T shirt. I make a legible note in my list of unpardonable sins. Mistake number 3 –After making a brash announcement that he is very hungry he refuses to co-operate with me to pick any cuisine or restaurant by shrugging shoulders and very benevolently adding “I am ok with anything.” Brushing away the three mistakes I walked with him to some restaurant I picked, me looking like I dressed up for the Emmy’s in contrast to my companion. We sit down; the waiter with a cheery face walks over to take the order. My date goes “I am ok with anything.” The waiter turned around towards me, hopefully. I, quite perplexed to find myself in an unprecedented situation, place my order and smiled at the waiter indicating that I am done. Later I felt sorry and I ordered something for the poor guy. But by the end of the day I must have heard the same line over and over again [is this music ok for you? – I am ok with anything. What do you think of watching a movie? – I am ok with anything. Do you want to call it an evening? – I am ok with anything!!] that it was ringing in my ears long after the guy left to wherever he came from.
I could go on and on about first date horrors, but that isn’t the intent of the blog. But what is the intent of the blog, I ask myself? Silence echoes. So anyways, since I have come to the end of my dating gibberish [or rather I am just tired typing], I think it is only fair to follow the unwritten law and lay down my set of rules for dating No-No’s.
In no particular order, here are my pet peeves regarding dating:
• The bed-head look might take your cute-quotient up a notch maybe, but brushing your teeth really helps. Pop in a mint [even though you have no plans of kissing on the first date] before the date, unless the restaurant you plan to take her has 10 feet long tables for couples. So don’t jump right out of bed for a date.
• NEVER greet a woman with a Yo! And don’t slap her back when she says something funny.
• Don’t spring surprises like rock climbing, batting cages etc on unsuspecting women who must have spent a fortune at Mario Tricoci’s trying to impress you with fancily done nails.
• Take dressing a little bit more seriously than going to a baseball game in summer with your friends. But at the same time don’t show up in vintage brand name clothing and make her wardrobe look like pathetic trash unless you really are a dot com millionaire.
• “I don’t mind any kind of food” is not really the most thrilling answer to a woman who is planning on picking one restaurant from a hundred available ones. Having an opinion helps.
• Don’t ever reveal your true intentions that you are there in the dating market because all your drinking buddies are either married or hooked up with other girls. It doesn’t really make a woman feel too special.
• The fact that you never relinquish the remote when there is a football game doesn’t really fall in the brag department.
• Talk about fashions, mani-pedi combos, the colors of the turtlenecks in your wardrobe, the number of shoes/belts in your closet, perfume brand names, Ricky Martin, Russell Crowe are topics that we surely do enjoy. But with our girl friends!! Unless we are looking for a partner to watch “Will and Grace” with.
• The next worst thing to bringing your mom on your first date is to keep talking about her [with misty eyes]. Your mom, your idol, your little secret. How about that?
• Being technology savvy is cool. But arriving on your date with a whole slew of gizmos, like iPods, camera cell phone with inbuilt Java server that runs practically any application written in Java, GPS [unless you are really really bad with directions and don’t mind admitting it], laptops with built-in airbags [remember the IBM notebook ad?] etc scream “NERD” rather than cool. So beware unless that IS the image that you are trying to project.
• DON’T pick up every single call on your cell phone. Even worse, don’t tell all your friends that you are on a date. Not only is it something that we don’t want to be published on the front pages of the newspaper and discussed on DB, it also gives away that you are very excited that you finally found a date.
• Please don’t make a big scene about picking up the tab. If the woman insists then let her pay. At the same time if you want the woman to pick it up too, somehow drop a hint about going Dutch. There is a risk of coming out as cheap, but get your priorities straight.
• The date you bagged with the extremely cute looking blonde when you were a TA might impress your drinking buddies at the bar. So save those details and spare us.
• There is a subtle difference between being chivalrous and being a snob. Open the door for the lady but do not order food for her.
The list is definitely not exhaustive so I will feel free to come back and edit it whenever I please. After all, it is my blog. After saying this I feel compelled to add a standard disclaimer that all opinions presented here are mine and entirely mine. I speak for myself and only myself. Most of the situations presented here are hypothetical but very much possible and realistic, so no relationship/dating advice, thank you!! Boys, I know that you can come up with plenty of dating mistakes that women do and advices. So feel free.
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