Wednesday, June 30

FedEx to ex-Fed

People will tell you that time flies. Someone with Chandler Bing's way of dealing with awkward conversations will quote Groucho Marx, "Time flies like an arrow; Fruit flies like a banana". And in some parallel universe I too share my amusement with this absurd notion of the speed of time.

Sadly, that universe isn't this one. One year ago, I had just returned from Day 1 of "W2D", one of the many attempts at commodification of the English language by converting every possible word into a noun, capitals and all, sapping it of all possible meaning. I have met, by now, several interesting people including my Gujju roommate, my flatmates-to-be, my "buddy", two females who talk incessantly about ISB, an orkut-acquaintance of my flatmate who I dismiss as the superficial pretty little girl and an overly sincere girl in pink who I count as one of the last females who would interest me. My first opinions were wrong as usual. Over the next few days, we will go through a puzzling set of events, almost as if the writers of HEROES or LOST had written them, introducing ourselves countless number of times. I always open with "I am a geek", barely resisting "...and proud of it".

They call it the "Honeymoon Period". Yes, more nouns that make little sense. I do hope nobody has a honeymoon where the highlight of the day is being assigned a cubicle. Then follow more inexplicable trainings that involve making guesses at what more terms like the Privacy Portal or Ethics in Action mean. There are the odd Java and Oracle trainings where the world makes sense again, especially coveting time spent with the overtly sincere girl.

Then we're asked to make a choice. Nothing less than the red pill, although sans the dramatic warning and CGI. In every parallel universe but this, I do not make the blunder of picking VM, known as "Ethical Hacking" to those who don't know better. Although I curse being parted from the herd, training with a smaller group excites the elitist in me. That is about the only thing that will keep me wading through months of method-less quackery, surrounded by automatons, most of who couldn't differentiate its from it's.

A word like officious is truly understood only when you meet someone who could practically have that as his middle name. Which is why one must, at least once in their lives, go to work. I notice this bad boy of VM soon enough and things go without our paths crossing for quite some time until my flatmate has already clashed with him and resigned. My days at work become elongated, turning into a constant struggle at keeping myself from shouting something that would make me look like an existentialist teenager. One very early Dilbertian morning I decide I have had it. I will not spend more time trying to learn the shortcuts to fickle Microsoft products when my heart lies with Ubuntu. Weighed with memories of Hyderabad Blues and Bloody Sunday 2, I quit.

I made several choices that led me to lying jobless in my flatmate's apartment, waiting to beg a professor to take me under his wing. SPS over TI. Deloitte over IBM. VM over IAM. Sincere girl in pink over her roommate. Maghadheera over Malanna. And even though time hasn't flown so much as crawled this year, I don't regret any one of those.

PS: The post started when I remembered watching Federer vs Rodick about a year back. Hence the title.
PPS: The Groucho Marx quote is one of the best puns I ever heard.