It was going to be yet another night-up at work - these were becoming commonplace now. "Stretched working hours", as they were called, were a product of poor project management, wanton procrastination and false deadlines.
Sulking, I made my way back to my desk, clutching a cup of supersaturated hot chocolate. This colloid had served as a tonic a number of times at work, cheering me up whenever I couldn't listen to Hans Zimmer's soundtracks. Usually I'd find a familiar face at the pantry smiling up at me, and we would exchange a couple of words, but today the place was deserted. In fact, our floor was deserted except for our team, and a couple of ladies who selflessly catered to my want of distraction in a soulless building full of well dressed, robotic staff.
Stretched hours are often welcomed by experienced staff - I couldn't complain much either. After working at this company for over a year, I too had developed a liking for the place, much against my wishes though, and this had made me work with renewed enthusiasm, diluting my attempts to protect myself from becoming a "product of the system". I couldn't blame my colleagues - age had worn them out, and sitting at work sounded far better even to me, when compared with having to listen to the pestering questions of wives. Plus, we were offered free dinner and a free cab drop at home in addition to a day off as compensation. However, these were never an attraction to me.
Was it because I was afraid of becoming a wheel in the machine? Hadn't I already become one? The symptoms all seemed to point to that - I no longer rejoiced in those long solitary walks sans music, sans noise and most of all, sans that stupid smartphone (Wow, an oxymoron!). Either way, extra working hours left me exponentially more drained as compared to ordinary working days, ruining whatever remained of my evening/night.
It was my turn to order dinner that evening, and, disinterestedly, I picked up my phone and ordered four medium sized pizzas for our team of a dozen engineers to devour. A couple of them despised pizzas, but I decided to order them since they would be the simplest things to order, given that a Domino's outlet was very close to our office. I did it so mechanically that I realized only after placing the order that I had forgotten to ask around as to what each person wanted. And worse, I had only ordered vegetarian pizzas, and the whole team had heard me. Putting on my best expression of guilt, I looked around anticipating comments, but only received a couple of feeble "How long?"s. Thanking their hunger, I turned to face my two monitors, and, just to feel the fun in it, dragged a window from one monitor to another. This did feel like the Batcomputer sometimes.
Thirty uneventful minutes passed in silence, interrupted only by the sound of typing, clicking and the occasional "How much more time?" related talk. The wait culminated with impatient colleagues urging me to call Domino's Pizza.
I hesitantly obliged, and went outside to make the call. Before returning to my desk, I caught a glimpse of the sky, and felt a pang of disappointment. It was dark yet again. I found it hard to guess a day's weather, sitting in an air conditioned hall throughout the day so much so, that I started considering it a great privilege to be able to leave the office premises while the sun was still up.
We were prepared when the delivery boy came - they had crossed the 30-minute delivery time and we were - well, certainly I was in the mood to get away without paying for the pizzas. It would have been an understatement to say that there would be an argument, and I was delighted at the prospect of having one, especially after a long, boring day. It wouldn't have mattered much even if we had had to pay, since our company would bear the expenses, but I was determined to push this as far as I could. Domino's had got away with their conveniently flexible rules and manipulative staff who could flex these rules even further, more than a few times, and I wasn't going to let them have their way this time.
I looked down at my Taskbar and satisfied myself that they had taken a full forty minutes to deliver the pizzas. Going out, I saw a plump man, wearing the Domino's uniform and smiling up at us. I couldn't guess his age, but his eyes were innocent. What might have started as rude talk started off with the kindest words I could find in me - words that expressed my pity for the man's helplessness, but at the same time, echoed the firmness in my stand. The man handled it in a very dignified manner, being extremely open and honest - he told his manager over the phone that he had indeed reached our premises late, and even without the security check, he would've delivered our pizzas late.
A twenty minute argument on the phone with the manager bore no fruit and ended abruptly under the pressure of my starved colleagues, who looked like they were ready to slay me and take the pizzas.
Since it was already night and our long-suffering delivery man had been very polite with us, I felt a reconciliation was in order. The conversation slowly drifted and I learnt that the boy's (yeah, I will address him as a boy henceforth) family hailed from Tamil Nadu, but they had settled in Bangalore, and that he lived with his parents here. Soon, he started showing a keen interest in our company and asked me if there were any career opportunities. I explained to him that we were an engineering consultancy, delivering work to clients in various fields of engineering. When I noticed that his interest did not diminish, I asked him what his qualification was. He told me that he was a student at a local engineering college. He went on to tell me that he was doing his third year in Mechatronics, and that he was only working part-time at Domino's.
Hearing this, my heart melted - and, mind you, I'm usually a cold-hearted creature. It took me a while to digest the fact that that he was nothing less that what I had been a couple of years ago - if not more. I make it a point to respect any human being as at least an equal, but I felt guilty at not having treated this boy sufficiently well. All this while I had only been impressed by his patience and dignity, but now I had started seeing him as a brother.
This might have affected me less if he had told me that he was living alone. I was compelled to believe that his family was in such a position that they needed him to work, though there could have been a dozen other possibilities.
As I walked towards our desks, semi-conscious of the twelve pairs of hungry eyes starting at the boxes I was carrying, I wondered at the cruelty of society- I had had every comfort while I was studying and had never had to, so much as go to to the market. Had I wasted all that? I had been pretty happy with my marks but now I felt I should have done more. Whenever people told me that when they were young they didn't have anyone to guide them- something that made me get angry. Now I was angrier- I had been contented with getting out of college with pretty decent marks, a job in a core company and, most importantly, without falling into wrong habits- all that any parent would want. But now I was guilty at not having done more. For an instant I pictured myself as a middle aged man saying to an irritated kid the very same words that adults told me, quickly realizing that only guilt would make someone talk l like that. So were all these adults - or rather, elders guilty? Were their saintlike personalities merely a mask to hide the guilt that had accumulated over the years? Well, at least they didn't ask me to think of them to be such perfect people- it had been my own judgement- and my mental image hadn't been entirely erroneous either. I broke off from this random thought train and looked around. It wasn't a bad place to work. I had grown accustomed to complaining about it, but now everything I had felt like a luxury I didn't deserve.
Back when I had been studying, I would consider it an achievement if I merely completed my homework and studies a little bit, but there were people who worked, did household chores and much more, in addition to studies. My parents hadn't, so much as, asked me to go to the market for something while I had been at home. And here, I was, working at a world-renowned MNC, a "dream" company for many, getting a decent (but certainly not satisfactory) pay, and still finding things to complain about.
This might not sound as a drastic revelation, my reaction might seem as melodramatic to many, and, in fact, Western readers might find it hard to discern the surprise in the boy's story, much less consider it worth brooding over, but, as with workplace harassment and the like, it is not the intensity of the act but the impact it has that matters.
I was definitely shaken, but, as with several other incidents in my life, this was going to become an insignificant memory. I looked down at my plate to find that I had finished my food. A glance around the place revealed that others had, too. I would have time to think about this later - now I had to turn on my monitor and finish of the rest of the night's work.
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