A day in the life of a Client servicing exec (mine)

The following events describe the total chaos that precede and follow a visit from the ever exuberant Dee.
A sunny morning, when the rain gods have taken pity on us, wonderful weather greets us on our day to work.Our spirits buoyed, we file into our desks and plan our day. Okay. Urgent press gets priority.Our 5 member team is whittled down to 3 since our a.d. is out with a bad back and our a.e. has suspected flu.

Having no clue about the job that’s just been thunked on my lap, I familiarize myself with the need to connect telecom and Indian independence. Also juggling horrendous hoardings that have been changed at least thrice.
The sup and trainee hover around protectively.

Our merry pace at work suddenly accelerates (with our heartbeat) when we are informed that Dee and S.P. are on their way to “personally supervise & approve” the press ad. (translated as ‘sit on our head till we expedite’)

Poor D Ray G and Sidee have been given the task of making the obscure connection between telecom and independence. One option has been bombed and time till 11 has been spent trying to salvage it in vain. No recycling possible for option 1, 1 A, 1 B and 1 C despite valiant attempts.

Arrival of Dee in a breeze sets everyone going at a typhoons pace. Her black skirt and stockinged legs draw people’s eyes like magnets. She nonchalantly skips about and cracks a couple of sad ones with M G P and COO.

Given the task of tailing her and sticking to her like a burr, I keep at it fervently. Her meanderings are cut short by my leading her into a conference room to repose. S.P. meanwhile lodges himself in the COO’s cabin, deep in discussion with Wabs on strategy.

Since storms cannot be contained in teacups, I’m half dragged to the creative side trying to hold Dee’s curiosity on how our press ad is turning out.

A sweating Sammy working things out with Sidee and D Ray G as quickly as time permits. Voila, layout almost done. Dee gives her blessing, S.P. gives his.
Then comes the fine tuning.

AGM at 3, and at 2 S.P. promptly heads in that direction. Lunch in the aforementioned conference room with Dee. Sammy comes in to help with the PC (polite conversation). In non work related things, Dee is actually quite cool. Lunch is spent eating subs and discussing Feng Shui fish. At 5 minutes to 3, Dee trots off giving us breathing space till 6.30 to figure our lives out.

Artworks etc happen and the legal twist needs approvals. So we wait till 6.30. high level stress since we have around 6 of them to go (2 double spreads and 4 language ones).

At 6.30 they saunter in hungry. After being fed and watered, they suggest changes that are made super fast. Thrice we show them, thrice they ask for changes. The fourth time we hit a jackpot and are lucky (or so we think). Our creative guys decide we haven’t had enough for one day. D Ray G begins making noticeable changes in the layout.

Deadline crossed by a wonderful 5 hours, we send out the files.

“Oh! What have you sent” accompanies a shocked expression by our Sup as he checks it.
I have a near heart attack and the trainees knees buckle.
His face breaks into a smile. What a time to play a prank!!!

S.P. has left about 2 hours ago. Dee hovers around looking into other people’s computers and taking advantage of our general busy-ness to play Polly pry to perfection.

Ché holds fort making ultimate PC. First she gives subtle hints about cabs.
Then it becomes not so subtle till I image she is going to forcibly pack her into a one and send her away.
No such thing. Dee decides she wants to go back to hubby and after a sweet round of goodbyes she leaves in a whirl.

All our nerves near collapse we gleefully make our way home. The end of another exciting. Adventure-filled day.

Rainy wainy

I trundle through wet streets with my many bags hoping to reach work on time. The incessant patter of rain on my umbrella leaves me quite deaf. This grumpiness from the person who loves rain and prayed for it?! Let me clarify, I like watching the rain when I’m warmly snuggling in my bed with a mug of hot coffee. But reaching work sopping wet to a welcoming air conditioner with the appearance of a wet chicken… well that’s not part of the plan at all. So I pinged God on his IM. “wht da heck?!”. His reply -“rotflmao”. Sigh, it’s not very comforting when God’s laughing his ass off at your plight. “wtf??!!!” I type back furious.
Well it’s like this. We humans love to curse things. When it’s hot we curse the heat and pray for rain so we can curse it instead. When it rains we yell our head off at the wetness dreaming of cool winter days. Through chattering teeth in winter we yearn for sunshiney summers with all its vacation. All year round God is grumbled at. So he gets his kick out of making us look like wet chickens, cooked geese or cold turkey.
This season goes both ways, the smell of lovely wet earth vs fungassy clothes, blissful weekends to cold and wet weekdays. Good and bad are a couple and they’re here to stay.

Shopping? (cringe!)

The dictionary defines Chores as a hard or unpleasant task. Shopping for me is a Chore (with a capital C). On my one free day –Sunday, mum decides to drag me shopping at the supermarket. It’s pouring and by the time I get there, I look like a wet chicken. With as much dignity I can muster, I enter the fully air conditioned supermarket and listen to the background score of my teeth chattering (very kelvinator). It looks like they’re giving everything away free, judging by the number of people who’re there. There were all sorts of people–fat ones, thin ones, tall ones, short ones…mostly fat ones.

For someone with motor skills two levels above an ape, my mother very adventurously asks me to maneuver the shopping cart. I sigh and grab my cart only to have one of the wheels run over my toes. Mentally yelling at myself for wearing Floaters instead of shoes I sigh and follow mum into the labyrinthine shopping area. “Ouch!” the wheel again as I tried to reverse my cart. As I peer at my toe to evaluate the damage, one supreme shorty decides she wants biscuits from the topmost shelf and causes a cascade of crème biscuits on my previously unbruised head. Now I’m bruised from head to foot (well, my inbetween is miraculously unscathed… not for long though). Looking daggers at her isn’t helping 'coz she’s scuttled off. It would have been better if I had kept my eyes firmly in front of me. Someone with motor skills even worse than mine decides his shopping isn’t interesting enough and playing bumper carts might enhance the experience. Result: a bruised middle. In spite of all the blubber that shields my tummy, I know it’s gonna be a blue bruiser.

Somehow I make my way out of aisle one (in my head, it pops up like a video game: LEVEL 1 COMPLETE: LEVEL 2)

A fact I’ve accepted is, the wheel of my shopping cart has an affinity for my toes. It doesn’t help that other people want to run me over too! And in all this, my mother is blissfully unaware, in her wonderland of aisles filled with things to stack her cart with. The heavier my cart gets, the more unmanageable it becomes.

To make my life a little more bearable, I add some Sprite to my cart only to have mum promptly put it back on the shelf and launch into the “diet” lecture. The chocolate I sneaked in is sneaked back with “the look”.

Feeling great pity for myself, I decide to tame my undomesticated cart. By then, my toes hurt, my legs are aching and my head is throbbing. Just then a kid decides to throw a tantrum and launch himself onto the floor kicking and screaming. Half of me wants to pick him up and pet him, the other half wants to spank the brat. I ignore wailing Wally only to find myself abandoned by mum. The 4 yr old in me wakes up and I panic (why?! I’ve been here a gazillion times) still, I want my mum!!! I scan the aisles and find her looking at some new fangled precooked mishmash. Relieved, I rush to be near her. I go one way, my cart goes the other and the stack of soups comes down crashing. The staff is now glaring at me (they think I’m the creme biscuit crasher). Mum decides the faster she gets me out of here the better. She doesn’t want to be “black listed” for having a delinquent daughter. Luckily, the checkout is reasonably empty as I pile my stuff on the counter, grab my bags and leave.

Will you be there for me?

Lately, so many people have been asking me this. As if, in their storm tossed lives, they look for one constant, one rock… weather-beaten but there. They are unsure of where they go and when they will come. But if they do come back, they need the assurance that someone will be there for them, someone they can come back to. They want me to be that person- who will listen to them, be a balm on their travel weary bodies, soothe their uprooted hearts and minds. In the dynamic, ever-changing they ask, “will you be there for me?”
I say, “Yes, always.” Not forever, because forever has ceased to mean anything…. So, always, till the end of time. But when I ask them the same question, they look apologetic as if making an excuse for their fickle minds, hearts and loyalties.
So I sigh, and continue being there for them, without anyone “being there” for me.