In a world that is increasingly global, I am often pleasantly surprised at how easily I get along with people who, literally, are oceans away. Yet, I might often not get along with people who have grown up around much of the same culture and events that I did. However, every country seems to have these stereotypes within their nation which they guard themselves from. For instance, I might not think twice before talking about my latest tat to an Aussie colleague, but I would rather die before my conservative Indian best friend found out.
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Within the nation, geography and coasts threaten to form virulently opposing teams. Case in point: I have friends who have settled on the east and west coast of the US. And even though America isn't even their native country (they are naturalised citizens/work visa holders), 5 years down the line, I can literally see the fake California tan or the uber sophisticate New Yorker accent through the phone lines. Both have their pluses - a particulary uptight friend has become a fan of wearing hippie skirts and joined chacha classes in SF. A Berkeley cousin has had her ambitious edge softened. A t-shirt and sometimes unwashed tracks wearing school friendwho is now in finance in NY turned up in a sports jacket, polo shirt and khakis when we last caught up over coffee. Another hopeless romantic has turned into a ball crushing career driven type since moving to Philly.And don't even get me started on South India vs North India.But it runs deeper.Some of these cultures are born of a city. To a point where even if you are from North India, Delhi-ites are a completely different breed. Sydney and Melbourne are as compatible as chalk and cheese. It seems we are increasingly becoming a product of our city rather than our nationality, language or even parentage. This is not so true of country folk. If you're from Sweden, damn it, you're Swedish. If you're from France, it would matter if you came from wine county or from Paris. While on the topic, one thing about West Coasters bothers me. All of the very tiny sum people of 7 that I know from California have this aggravating trait - they appear super friendly, but they aren't. You think you're in, but you're not. They take their career damn seriously, but they'll pretend like it isn't a big part of their lives. East Coasters - you get what you see. When they're working, they'll tell you to sod off. But if they had to cancel on a plan, they'll call you on the weekend and make sure you spend some time together. If you're in you're in, hook, line and sinker. If you're out, they won't even bother talking to you. West Coasters can forget you in a heartbeat. But they'll never let you know. Its considered rude.That's my $0.02. Hopefully, no west coasters are reading this. :)
The dust is finally settling
11:50 AMSo, obviously, my brain is not capable of subscribing to normal human reaction. Which is why my last day at a job was an occasion for it to rejoice - every night with a different set of people for 7 straight days - and this after working from 8am to 9pm for 3 of those nights because I wanted to finish my work myself rather than hand it over (honestly, I can be such a child - I have no idea what I was proving to whom). I didn't hate the job - far from it. My only complaint was the long hours. Yet I happily, ecstatically bounced, skipped even, out of work at noon on the last day, fulfilled with the improbable completion of my madly ambitious self created work.
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I may not have a problem with all this - but others did. The range of reactions when I told people I was leaving:- "What? Why? Are you going back to India?"- "Oh, are [insert rival/client/vendor company here] - "Let me guess - you're getting married *smug grin*" (????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)- "Cool. So when's the farewell party?"- "But you'll still come to office to meet us right?" (duh, what now?)- "Oh, that's horrible. Did you want to talk about it over coffee - I'm free now. Or how about tomorrow?" (this from a person I barely know and have never met outside of the office walls)- "Hey, can I take your desktop then? Mine's so slow...."I was thoroughly amused by the way it panned out. It was very dramatic. Professional confidentiality disallows a more detailed description, but I think it kills the person who has to tell you you're being let you go more than you. You almost feel bad for the guy.Anyway, come Friday night, I was recovering from 7 days of non stop work and play at a friend's house over a very smoky green apple hookah which mixed with cigarette smoke and alcohol earlier on left us with a very strangely alien high. Next day, I came home, shopped, cooked a fancy lunch, cleaned, applied first coat of varnish on a pending carpentry project and went to sleep at 10pm. I have given myself a deadline of 2 months - for what? Not sure. What's the ultimatum at the end of 2 months? Nothing. Its just 2 months of a jobhunt and rediscovering what it means to have time to think. I still don't know what it is I'm supposed to think about.I wish I had this awful feeling its all going to hit me and I'll plummet head first into an abyss of self pity. My parents are now desperate to see an iota of emotion. But it won't happen. Its not denial. It simply wasn't that important to me. I have this feeling this was meant to happen - it's supposed to force me out of something. What? God knows. My worldly faculties fail to grasp how losing your job is a good thing in the middle of a recession.What is wrong with me?Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Errata
7:42 AMApologies for the three spam ridden posts. They appeared via my Mail2Blogger email id, a feature which I have now disabled. Many thanks to Onkar for pointing it out.
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