The conference room feels like its being roasted in farts. The air conditioners, liberators from the fat heat of the summer, let out fermented air slimy like the inside of a bum rash. The place is packed - chairs and people brought in from various work stations fill every corner. Too many new employees and not enough planning. The COO holds forth, while the rookie of rookies does his best not to pass out.
He catches Shruti's eye, his colleague who has been more than kind and smiles. She had warned him about the interminable boredom of the weekly meeting.
A joke is cracked by the COO - people smile audibly - and one man laughs. Not a laugh of the amused. It is a clear laugh, goes up and down with precision. Its the opposite of when you laugh at a clown.
He looks around, the man with the laugh. Around the room his eyes go, the laugh ebbing away without the company that public obsequiousness requires. He splutters on for far too many seconds, I can't take it anymore. I meet his gaze and smile audibly.
It is not taken as a mark of solidarity, but rather seen through for what it is. A condescending gesture, half sucking up half charity.
As his gaze passes over mine it is obvious that he realises, with uncharacteristic intelligence the arrogance of my acknowledgement. He has been used to being a sad little man for a long time now. He stumbled into this job. He is agreeable and personable, and over five years rose to a position of relative importance in a small organisation by the sheer inertia of bureaucratic promotions and raises.
It is hard to say whether he realises the picture he paints. A chubby little man, out of his depth. Asking questions to appear intelligent and failing miserably. Surrounded by young women, clad in the latest NGO chic with twangs in their accents - some american and a few english. They are below him in the hierarchy, but listened to more.
He does not acknowledge this to himself often. He knows that greater renumeration for what he does will be hard. In your fifties, trying to keep up with grating little words like ideate isn't going to be easy. Difficult enough to be not worth a try.
His department has trudged along quite well the last few years. But the whole place is expanding. Offices have multiplied and so have the people. It was only a matter of time before he got an idiot, over eager and over smart. The way the 'sir' and 'ji' roll of my tongue is far too deliberate. To him, I know I am better and calling the boss by his first name like everyone else make it far too obvious.
The boss feels a pain in his knee and his stomach and his back. It all emanates from the mildest of paunches. He thinks of ways to reign the new boy in.
He does not acknowledge this to himself often. He knows that greater renumeration for what he does will be hard. In your fifties, trying to keep up with grating little words like ideate isn't going to be easy. Difficult enough to be not worth a try.
His department has trudged along quite well the last few years. But the whole place is expanding. Offices have multiplied and so have the people. It was only a matter of time before he got an idiot, over eager and over smart. The way the 'sir' and 'ji' roll of my tongue is far too deliberate. To him, I know I am better and calling the boss by his first name like everyone else make it far too obvious.
The boss feels a pain in his knee and his stomach and his back. It all emanates from the mildest of paunches. He thinks of ways to reign the new boy in.
