The pen…or in this case the blog…is mightier than the sword. Admissions for the next batch have begun at college. It’s unbelievable that just a year ago, I was nervously filling out essays and admit forms and waiting for my interviews and the whole show. 260 potentially bright candidates would trust their futures with our esteemed institute and would be set on the path to greatness. ( I am expected to be saying all these nice things…just in case one of them are reading). Anyway, I am helping out the admissions committee. Why am I doing so? A couple of reasons. The sheer entertainment of reading various peoples essays extolling their greatness through the essays and vainly attempting to glorify mundane feats like “ I am awesome because I attend work every day” , keeps my mood up. In fact, friends have genuinely commented that I seem happier. I thank the future batches for the absolutely free entertainment. I don’t think I am to be saying all these things, but then when you look at the second reason, you’ll understand my angst.
The second reason I decided to help the team was to get a chance to render my services during the admission process as a true Bangalorean and get a chance to head home for a few days. But apparently, to the committee, I am not Bangalorean enough. Call it red tape, and ‘might is right’..or whatever to justify that the committee guys get first choice, but I can only laugh at the logic being thrown at me to justify ‘ I am not Bangalorean’. First and foremost, people who have merely worked there for a few years in the city, do not qualify as Bangalorean; as the common destination would have been office, pub, mall, store, office, pub , mall , store,….and the vicious circle continues. Hardly the ‘Bangalorean’.
But it is this excuse that takes the cake and got me laughing so hard that the old appendix began hurting again. One member is apparently claiming that since all that person’s friends have moved to Bangalore, they qualify as being Bangalorean. By that decree, I am a native of Chicago and Sydney too. (Ola peeps…wasssaaaaap?). This is absolutely hilarious…. I decided to stop listening to anymore excuse for the fear that my spleen my burst out.
I don’t understand why people cannot come straight to the point. Think of when we were kids playing cricket and the kid batting got out, he would proclaim ‘ Mera batting khatam…mera bat…main ghar jar aha hoon’ (translated for the benefit of some…I’m done with my batting, it’s my bat, I am going home). And apparently future managers still follow the same tactics. We just cleaned it up and put the tag of ‘strategy’ on it. Anyway, I know…and hope…you admission committee chaps are reading this and taking a good laugh at yourselves. Gnaaaaaaaaahhhhh! :P
The second reason I decided to help the team was to get a chance to render my services during the admission process as a true Bangalorean and get a chance to head home for a few days. But apparently, to the committee, I am not Bangalorean enough. Call it red tape, and ‘might is right’..or whatever to justify that the committee guys get first choice, but I can only laugh at the logic being thrown at me to justify ‘ I am not Bangalorean’. First and foremost, people who have merely worked there for a few years in the city, do not qualify as Bangalorean; as the common destination would have been office, pub, mall, store, office, pub , mall , store,….and the vicious circle continues. Hardly the ‘Bangalorean’.
But it is this excuse that takes the cake and got me laughing so hard that the old appendix began hurting again. One member is apparently claiming that since all that person’s friends have moved to Bangalore, they qualify as being Bangalorean. By that decree, I am a native of Chicago and Sydney too. (Ola peeps…wasssaaaaap?). This is absolutely hilarious…. I decided to stop listening to anymore excuse for the fear that my spleen my burst out.
I don’t understand why people cannot come straight to the point. Think of when we were kids playing cricket and the kid batting got out, he would proclaim ‘ Mera batting khatam…mera bat…main ghar jar aha hoon’ (translated for the benefit of some…I’m done with my batting, it’s my bat, I am going home). And apparently future managers still follow the same tactics. We just cleaned it up and put the tag of ‘strategy’ on it. Anyway, I know…and hope…you admission committee chaps are reading this and taking a good laugh at yourselves. Gnaaaaaaaaahhhhh! :P
Comments
HAHAHAHA!!!!
HAHAHAHAHAH!!!!