A Sad Soptomi
Soptomi happening to be on a Friday, Chilla packs his best Cassnova dress, a bottle of Axe (oh I yeah, I still believe in those ads...someday power of faith will manifest) in his bag and drives to the office. Office work on this particular Friday is thankfully less, so looking at the clock on the system and surfing across blogs are the methods of killing time. Manage to dig up lot interesting posts from fantasies on horseback to what actually is sexual harassment about. Clock shows 3:30 pm...another one hour I off . Bengali association here I make my entry humming “Aare diwano mujhe pahechano…kahan se aya main ho DON“.
My guardian angel who you might be knowing has a habit of screwing up things with the same talent as his bestowed one slipped somewhere. Just 3:45 pm a beep in my cellphone tells me I gotta SMS. Must be someone caught in festive fever expressing her/his sarodiya greetings. And truly it was a greeting from the IT command center informing that our production server has been taking the last few breaths and it won't be long before it dies out. Ok, I look around for J, the nerd who loves doing all this stuff. SHIIT, the bugger left early...got some dentist appointment to clean the scales on his teeth, so that next time he approaches a babe in a pub he might put on the perfect Colgate smile. So it is me, the only superhero left, who unlike the other mutants of the clan prefers to wear the underwear inside, that can save the day from the perils of the dead server. Only he can bring back the dead from the clutches of hell...actually the Sys Admin can but I need to co-ordinate with him.
So Chilla picks up the weapon at hand, telephone receiver and Trrnng Trrnng calls up the Sys-Admin, another individual who'll shortly come to know that his Friday evening is doomed too. But I guess being the Sys-Admin he's geared up to give all sorts of ETA (Expected Time of Arrival,in case you are an alien in corp-world) which implies that's the time interval after which he'll give me the next ETA. The vivacious cycle will continue until one of his darts hits the bull eye. So round and round we go again and again, I add another 15 minutes in the ETA and pass on to my manager...who adds another 30 mins to it and passes it to his boss. What happens higher up the ladder can only be left to speculation. Chilla's super-guess is that server going down on a Friday evening is too trivial matters when compared to the latest putting techniques in golf is the bigger knowledge quest of the day.
By the end of three and half hours, Chilla manages to save the earthlings from another peril of zombies who managed to pull down the server. And zombies as you know can if not contained can be very dangerous. I hope Aparna being apt with zombies in her own Unix world can vouch for me. For the rest of my readers just take Chilla's word of caution on that. Anyways like Hercules I manage to bring back the dead server from the inferno just in time before it would've been roasted in devil's own tandoor. Draft a detailed mail with all words that carry no meaning yet constitutes a Root-Cause-Analysis report. Another look at the clock tells me it's 7:00.
Hooray I might be late, but still have hope to make it to the Pooja hall. May be the girls whom I'd fancied last year have already hooked up with the early-goers, but when I reach there by 8:15 pm I would still have Ms. Roy Chowdhury's Alur Dum. That lady if you can ignore her faked accented suggestion of "Duuh youv vaanth one more Aaaluhh" happens to be a fantastic cook. And then the desk phone rings again....this time it's my boss.
"Chilla, just read your RCA report, but you didn't attach the 32-step sanity check produce check-list with it along with the exact timelines". Aah the side effects of giving blackberry to your management...they can screw their subordinates even more effectively. With his appetite full he wouldn’t bother to look at his wife when they sleep in their mahogany bed. At the end of the day investment is a blackberry and its connection charges obtained at corporate discount.
Net results : Increased productivity…good looking balance sheet and a sexually starved wife and eventually a lucky and happy neighbor.
"Boss, I already did the important sanity checks, and our processes are up and running fine. I will send you the report first thing on Monday", I take my own chances before calling the shots.
"Chilla, you cannot ignore the processes. You know processes are what that makes our organization tick".
Oh really, then why is it all your review documents are prepared only before the quality audit takes place. But constrained by my rank all that I can say "Yes, I already have them on my notepad...I will fill up the sheet and send it to you by EOD". Actually it would be EON (End-of-Night) but neither of us was bothered to correct this mistake.
So the Soptomi gone down the drains, Chilla drives back home. Ironically the car stereo plays Kishore singing "Koi lauta de mere bite hue din" and I long for grasses from Maddox Square and pillars from Durgabaari. Ended up home with a quarter of Bacardi Rum from the 7/11 store round the corner. The roomie is excited about the porn CD he has got from another bird of the same feather and ends the news with "But Dada you are too intellectual for these raw flesh stuff". I think he purposefully does have a poke at my ego ,and I being the biggest sucker reply "Who says...let's watch it".
Gone are the Bong beauties, Gone are Ms. Roychowdhury's Alur Dum...I stuck with this pschyo and Jemma Jefferson with all her silicon talents and faked moans. And then my guardian angel smiled, the CD got stuck. Oh boy you should've seen the guy trying to fix the problem...he tried cleaning the CD head and he cleaned the CD, he licked it literally. But no use. Chilla's guardian angel wants Chilla to get drunk and play Kishore Kumar singing to the tunes of RD and that's what is bound to happen.
The funny part of getting drunk is the moment you think you need a couple of pegs more is the clear green signal to stop...but ask any drunkard he’ll tell you that's where he slips. So after finishing the rum, I open the fridge pull out a beer can. Gulp it down...and go for another. By the time the Kishore CD with all the MP3s finished and mind you there were around 20-30 of them I was barely able to put off the lights and go to bed.
(continued)
My guardian angel who you might be knowing has a habit of screwing up things with the same talent as his bestowed one slipped somewhere. Just 3:45 pm a beep in my cellphone tells me I gotta SMS. Must be someone caught in festive fever expressing her/his sarodiya greetings. And truly it was a greeting from the IT command center informing that our production server has been taking the last few breaths and it won't be long before it dies out. Ok, I look around for J, the nerd who loves doing all this stuff. SHIIT, the bugger left early...got some dentist appointment to clean the scales on his teeth, so that next time he approaches a babe in a pub he might put on the perfect Colgate smile. So it is me, the only superhero left, who unlike the other mutants of the clan prefers to wear the underwear inside, that can save the day from the perils of the dead server. Only he can bring back the dead from the clutches of hell...actually the Sys Admin can but I need to co-ordinate with him.
So Chilla picks up the weapon at hand, telephone receiver and Trrnng Trrnng calls up the Sys-Admin, another individual who'll shortly come to know that his Friday evening is doomed too. But I guess being the Sys-Admin he's geared up to give all sorts of ETA (Expected Time of Arrival,in case you are an alien in corp-world) which implies that's the time interval after which he'll give me the next ETA. The vivacious cycle will continue until one of his darts hits the bull eye. So round and round we go again and again, I add another 15 minutes in the ETA and pass on to my manager...who adds another 30 mins to it and passes it to his boss. What happens higher up the ladder can only be left to speculation. Chilla's super-guess is that server going down on a Friday evening is too trivial matters when compared to the latest putting techniques in golf is the bigger knowledge quest of the day.
By the end of three and half hours, Chilla manages to save the earthlings from another peril of zombies who managed to pull down the server. And zombies as you know can if not contained can be very dangerous. I hope Aparna being apt with zombies in her own Unix world can vouch for me. For the rest of my readers just take Chilla's word of caution on that. Anyways like Hercules I manage to bring back the dead server from the inferno just in time before it would've been roasted in devil's own tandoor. Draft a detailed mail with all words that carry no meaning yet constitutes a Root-Cause-Analysis report. Another look at the clock tells me it's 7:00.
Hooray I might be late, but still have hope to make it to the Pooja hall. May be the girls whom I'd fancied last year have already hooked up with the early-goers, but when I reach there by 8:15 pm I would still have Ms. Roy Chowdhury's Alur Dum. That lady if you can ignore her faked accented suggestion of "Duuh youv vaanth one more Aaaluhh" happens to be a fantastic cook. And then the desk phone rings again....this time it's my boss.
"Chilla, just read your RCA report, but you didn't attach the 32-step sanity check produce check-list with it along with the exact timelines". Aah the side effects of giving blackberry to your management...they can screw their subordinates even more effectively. With his appetite full he wouldn’t bother to look at his wife when they sleep in their mahogany bed. At the end of the day investment is a blackberry and its connection charges obtained at corporate discount.
Net results : Increased productivity…good looking balance sheet and a sexually starved wife and eventually a lucky and happy neighbor.
"Boss, I already did the important sanity checks, and our processes are up and running fine. I will send you the report first thing on Monday", I take my own chances before calling the shots.
"Chilla, you cannot ignore the processes. You know processes are what that makes our organization tick".
Oh really, then why is it all your review documents are prepared only before the quality audit takes place. But constrained by my rank all that I can say "Yes, I already have them on my notepad...I will fill up the sheet and send it to you by EOD". Actually it would be EON (End-of-Night) but neither of us was bothered to correct this mistake.
So the Soptomi gone down the drains, Chilla drives back home. Ironically the car stereo plays Kishore singing "Koi lauta de mere bite hue din" and I long for grasses from Maddox Square and pillars from Durgabaari. Ended up home with a quarter of Bacardi Rum from the 7/11 store round the corner. The roomie is excited about the porn CD he has got from another bird of the same feather and ends the news with "But Dada you are too intellectual for these raw flesh stuff". I think he purposefully does have a poke at my ego ,and I being the biggest sucker reply "Who says...let's watch it".
Gone are the Bong beauties, Gone are Ms. Roychowdhury's Alur Dum...I stuck with this pschyo and Jemma Jefferson with all her silicon talents and faked moans. And then my guardian angel smiled, the CD got stuck. Oh boy you should've seen the guy trying to fix the problem...he tried cleaning the CD head and he cleaned the CD, he licked it literally. But no use. Chilla's guardian angel wants Chilla to get drunk and play Kishore Kumar singing to the tunes of RD and that's what is bound to happen.
The funny part of getting drunk is the moment you think you need a couple of pegs more is the clear green signal to stop...but ask any drunkard he’ll tell you that's where he slips. So after finishing the rum, I open the fridge pull out a beer can. Gulp it down...and go for another. By the time the Kishore CD with all the MP3s finished and mind you there were around 20-30 of them I was barely able to put off the lights and go to bed.
(continued)
