Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Random Stuff

The creative leave applications of my colleagues never fail to make me chuckle. One went, 'As my neighbour expired next to my door, I couldn't attend office.'!!

Or this peon of mine who got a telegram from his brother in the village telling him that their father had passed away ? This peon happens to be an alcoholic, so, expectedly, he was so broke that he didn't have the money to go to his village. I and a few others chipped in, and managed to rustle up enough to sponsor his trip and the other expenses there. The guy goes off, saying he'll be back in a fortnight or so. About four days later, we received another telegram "Father's dead, it's been 4 days, where ARE you?" A fortnight later, in saunters the peon, with his hair shaved off, and with a sad _expression on his face. We tsk-tsk sympathetically at his story of his father's demise and all the subsequent functions. Then, we produce the second telegram! His face was a sight!Turns out the lure of the juice of the grape was stronger than anything, and with all the money he had, he went on the bender of his life! Forget turning, his father must've positively revolved in his grave!

Here's another memory that surfaced from the mid-eighties. I was at our Nariman Point branch then, and the senior-most clerk, Mr. Tanaji (do tutaris sound in the background at the mention of the name?), in his usual style is sitting cross-legged on his chair writing something called the 'transfer waste'. It was a messy piece of work and took some experience to make it all tally at the end of the day and he was lost in it. Suddenly the Deputy General Manager of our bank visits us, and the branch in-charge is busy taking him around, introducing him to everyone. They reach Tanaji, who's beavering away with furrowed brow. After being introduced, and after noticing the HUUUGE transfer waste spread across the table, the DGM loses it, and asks Tanaji, 'So, Mr. Tanaji, what do you do?" Tanaji looks up crossly, stares awhile at the DGM, and replies, "I WORK IN CANARA BANK."

Recipe for the blues : Take a large glass. Pour water in it. You may stop now. Add a teaspoon of sugar, half a crushed ginger, a dash of chili-powder. Let it cool in the refrigerator for roughly half an hour. Take it out and chuck it out the goddamn window, preferably on the workmen's heads. Go out to the nearest bar and down a couple of stiff ones. Works everytime for me.

No comments: