Wanna hear my sad story in detail. Here is it.
After a night full of preparations (for which I regretted later) I reached about 30 minutes before the stipulated time, but the security officer took me to a monotonous sightseeing throughout the whole building, as he was not sure about the way to the office. Tired and fed up, I left the security officer half the way, as I was sure that another circle around the building was awaiting me.
After a tiresome walk I managed to reach at the entrance of the so called big company, just 10 minutes before the scheduled time.
The reception counter resembled a posh five star hotel, but had no one there to collect my resume or direct me towards the interview board. I was feeling sorry for myself, that I came all the way, taking a leave (a LOP), leaving my works, for such an unpleasant response. After a long time I saw someone nearing the reception and rushed to complete my preliminary formalities.
I was taken to a Hi-Fi cabin & a pot bellied man with thick glasses, introduced himself as the TL and started the interview. Half of the chat was about the number of degrees that he had and a long chain of boring praises for his writers, gosh! I should stab me for listening to that, as the latter part was really heart breaking.
I was told a test and to my surprise they gave me an 18 page document for rewriting. It had all about the business progresses and matters related to some Middle East countries. I was told that the best writer of the firm had drafted the document. My curiosity doubled!!!
But I started reading the so called best document, I felt like screaming aloud, as the document was a bin of mistakes and plagiarism, with lack of clarity and coordination of ideas. The whole document had just a few high sounding words fixed together, modified with the help of a few pictures, and needed a thorough mending which could be possible only in a day or two.
I cursed my plan for travelling about 220km, wrote about 4 pages of the document, commented the errors and left the place. The next round of torment was from the HR and I was forced to pour out all my sadness at him. To my surprise he blatantly confessed that the document had mistakes, and that he couldn’t see it earlier. What else to say, I left the building murmuring Charlotte Bronte’s quote, “I try to avoid looking forward or backward, and try to keep looking upward.”
What if I live single? I have asked this question plenty of times to everyone who shows me a sad smiley.Some people are always keen to know whether I am really happy. The more evidence I give them about my happiness, the more they ask me.
These glorified savors blatantly question me wherever I go, as if they are really worried about my single status. What’s wrong in being single? Well, in my case I don’t find grave mistake in it. I love to live so until I get someone really worth marrying.
A single woman doesn’t always mean someone with loose morals, great to party or sleep with, just mistrust that the society carries out purposefully, due to the false notion that single people are failures. There are many noted people from all walks of life, who enjoy their single status, high up enough in their professions to be able to earn enough to live alone. But I have always seen that the society always targets a single woman making her life distressful.
Single or wed, it’s my life, why should the society be worried about it? And I always feel that the best way to have a happy life is not to get into a forceful relationship, but to build one, full of meaning and satisfaction. This can be possible only when you choose to wed someone who is completely of your own choice. If not, I feel, it’s better to remain single.
Marriage should never become a contract, but a gracious bondage between two individuals, that has to be maintained throughout life.
My dad said, “Watch the crowd, what if you get a topic to write “. To write about the crowd, what did he mean by that? Only he can answer it.
I just managed to get a coupon for a lime juice and a seat in the corner of the room, looking at the crowd waiting hungrily for their turn to grab plates filed with scrumptious food.
As I was enjoying that never-ending crowd a stout woman, with a plate of chappathi and curry, came hurriedly and almost sat on the bag that I had kept near me. God! my bag! Oh! I need to save it.
I valiantly took it away before the lady could crush my new Nokia 3500 mobile phone.
As I had my lunch from the office I didn’t feel any interest in those flavorsome dishes and hence started enjoying my lime juice, watching the crowd. The head of the lady near me was almost hidden in the plate that I could see only the small hump on her back. A minute or two passed and shocking me she finished her heavy lunch, stood up , her body a little, as if to fill in whatever she had. With a satisfying glee she left, sparing my bag and my mobile.
An , ice-cream, that would me the next turn in my list, as I had to wait my watch to tick 2700 times more. I went to the counter hurriedly to take a coupon for an ice cream, as my dad would not allow me to have one. Tonsillitis was something that restricted me from having ice creams.
But I couldn’t control the temptation.
The bearer gave me a long list, vanilla, butter scotch…., for my preference. I was in a dilemma. I hardly knew about the different flavors and brand names. The first is the best, I said “Vanilla Please”, but didn’t even know how it would look like.
Victoriously, I started enjoying my ice-cream, with the scary thoughts of tonsillitis and my dad who would reach there any moment.
The flow of crowd was still going on in full swing.
I managed to have it completely and gave my cup back on time before my dad reached the table. Tired of his journey and the pain on his knees he sat near me and had his lunch
As we were about to leave, I turned back to look at the cafeteria and the crowded food counter again. Adieu ! I loved that one hour.