What A Pizza Can Do

Yesterday, Jo (my boss who looks like Steve Jobs and Don Corleone had a love child who uses ‘fucking’ before every verb and noun) and Ni (who looks like she has walked straight out of a Tim Burton movie) were going through the ‘spaces’ for X pizza brand.

“So basically they’ve got this offer with all this stuff and at a very low price, lower than the competition’s. So they want to get people who’d usually have street food because it’s cheaper, into X pizza restaurant.” I explained.

“Can I go first?” Ni asked me, her body already in the mode to throw the words out and my ‘sure’ was just a formality. She jumped in and shot off her spaces which were sad to say the least. But she defended them with the vigour of a mama bear protecting her ugly bear cubs. Jo looked a little like a cat in the rain in front of her vehemence. And I wondered for the umpteenth time what had I been employed into.

“So anyway, we can totally talk about choice as the main thing here,” she concluded firmly, allowing no objections. Jo was quiet and then she said, unsurely, her eyes and lips straining, “Or you don’t think so?”

What kind of dynamic was this?!

Jo went into his explanation of things to Ni, “It’s just that choice is a bit generic but you can surely go ahead and brief the creative team on it. But I was thinking, can we do something around being broke since it’s about value for money?” he was silent for a few seconds, “What is broke in Hindi? Kadka right?”

“Yea, kadka,” Ni concurred.

I’d have to take their word for it, is what I said, since I didn’t know the Hindi word for broke.

“So can it be something like ‘Kadka? Then have X pizza ka tadka,’ Jo suggested.

I wanted to weep. My own simple suggestion, though not stellar was better than what either of them had suggested. A VP and the CSO.

Instead of telling him that his idea sucks, I said, “But I think it cues Indian cooking with ‘tadka’.”

“Does it?” Jo turned to Ni who nodded. “What is Tadka anyway?”

He googled it and informed us that it was tempering in Indian food.

“It sounds like it would be an Indianised pizza,” I reiterated.

“You’re right,” he said. A phrase he often ended up saying to me because he ended up being so wrong, so often and I’m just two weeks in the organisation. Help. Me.

At that moment his cabin door was opened by one of the account management VPs. A fellow who had thrown the phrase tent pole campaign at me in an email that had nothing to do with tent pole marketing at all. He was always laughing, crisp in how he spoke, a veteran advertising guy and like everyone in this agency, full to the brim with gas.

“Hey, AD, if I say to you ‘Kadka? Lagao X ka tadka’ (Broke? Put the tempering of X), what does it sound like to you?” Jo asked him.

“Oh my god Jo!” AD mock ran out of the cabin and then swerved around, “Oh my god! What are you even saying to me!”

All of us looked at him confused as did all the people outside the cabin.

“It means horny right?!”

All of us burst into laughter.

“Fucker! I said Kadka,” Jo called out amidst all the mirth.

“What is kadka?” AD asked, “It’s that only? No? What is it?”

“It means broke,” Ni chipped in with a laugh.

Kadka at best is close to Kadak which means hard in Hindi and from there AD had taken many leaps and bounds of imagination to understand that Jo was asking him that if he was horny he just needed X pizza’s tempering.

When we stepped out, a servicing person told me that it isn’t Kadka, it is Kadki. Good God, blind leading the blind in this office. On the bright side, my sister loves these office stories of utter frustration and finds them hilarious. At least my struggle is stand up comedy for someone.

Sexy Times

“Listen, on ABC laminates,” Lady Teeny begins, her face pinched with stress, “I saw the deck and it’s not really what NJ is looking for. And the guy you guys presented to, his minion, is useless. He has no idea what NJ wants and is going to set us down the garden path.”

My new boss, Jo and I stared at this hurricane of well-contained panic, the CEO of the agency sitting at the glass-top round table in Jo’s cabin. I was sitting next to her and Jo was facing her.

“NJ wants some sort of comm strat,” she continued, “He will jerk off to that.”

I suppressed the internal recoil, reminding myself that this is just agency speak.

“Comm strat?” Jo questioned.

“See those spaces are very advertising,” I embodied a question mark as she said it, “We don’t need to have creative spaces right now, we can just talk about the research’s triggers and barriers. And then have a comm strat flow and talk about the examples.”

“This is what NJ wants, he wants scripts,” Jo said.

“Yes, so we can take some kind of scripts stemming from the barriers and triggers, but in the form of a comm strat because that’s what he’ll jerk off to.”

“See, Teeny, that’s why we’d added the whole challenger bit at the start, mainly so he can masturbate over that, it’s the NJ-proofing we’ve done.”

At this point it was hard not to feel like we were at Sex Workers Inc.

“Listen, I’ve just come from a meeting and the creative got it totally wrong,” her eyes were sharp in that she wanted something, they were muddled in that they had no clue what they wanted. “Do you know what Arijit is doing?” she looked at me.

“Uh, no,” I said in no small part because I had no clue who Arijit was, being all of two weeks in the organisation aligned to a space cadet of a VP.

“He will go so far from this thought,” she looked at me as if I was secretly encouraging this Arijit to run amok and ruin the scripts. “We need to be authentic.”

This buzz word was the new ‘aspirational’ even as aspirational became a staple.

“Look we need to get in those examples, build a comm strat and take something that are like scripts but not scripts, stemming from triggers and barriers,” I swear to God I was at the centre of a spinning black and white spiral by this point. I just wanted to shout, “What the fuck do you actually want? Just tell us the problem not what you think is the solution.”

“I think we’re unnecessarily complicating it,” Jo was being nice but he clearly felt her anxious energy stinking up the cabin. “We should keep it as is.”

“At least let’s put in our earlier stuff,” she said, slightly exasperated, “Because then he’ll at least jerk off to that,” she cast me a glance and said, “Sorry about that.”

Ideally I’d like to not be a part of a conversation that has even one jerk off or a masturbate, but here I’d been hit with gibberish and three jerk offs and one masturbate. I’d already tried to make sense of this conversation and asked her certain questions, but she had launched into another rambling journey. Once she left, Jo translated what she’d said for me. Truly as of now, my new job is all about writing down my feelings with complicated words sown in.

Buzz

I used to think going through Facebook or Instagram profiles of my peers was depressing but going through their professional profiles makes me feel like I’ve spent my life counting butterflies and am a senior professional butterfly counter.

How is everyone so brilliant or so brilliant at selling themselves? And why were the butterflies more enticing to me than lessons in selling oneself or developing oneself so perfectly for the corporate world?

I know I shouldn’t compare because everyone has their own path but right now because my path is the equivalent of a ditch that I’m trying to get out of, I can’t help but compare the eight lane highways my peers seem to be cruising on in Ferraris. And I’m the monk who never had one.

Forget peers, my juniors seem to be all CEOs or becoming CEOs or near CEOs. They are lucky to have found their calling in an exact specific role that an organisation created, or perhaps it’s a particular mindset that helped them thrive. Either way, I feel rather lacking at this point. Like perhaps I’m not intelligent enough, or there’s something missing within me that makes for the opposite of an excellent addition to the corporate beasts army.

Another reason why I want to leave is the work itself. I was a very confident person back in advertising, when I was not a marketer at this particular organisation. But now, this role, the work, has taken something from me. And I have tried to make the best of it, won awards within constraints like you wouldn’t believe, delivered on campaigns simply on the strength of consumer truths and my own knowledge, but none of it makes me feel proud, or good. I can’t fake another smile here.

I realised why it bothers me so much, there is no depth to what I do. I used to sink my teeth into a problem, hold it up to the light, analyse it from different angles, seek more information and data and then and only then frame the right, the most powerful question. Once that was done, I knew finding the answer wasn’t far away. Which is why every intelligent person ever tells you to understand and frame the problem well – that is ninety percent of the work.

At this job all I am asked for is width. How much did I do? If it was shiny enough? Like I’m in a team of magpies. My boss literally texted me that I need to create more “buzz” on the brands. This is the word I grew allergic to when I joined this organisation. What the fuck is buzz? Is that a goal for a brand? Is that something to strive for? How do you measure it? How do you define it? No one ever had the answers to that question and looked rather impressed when I asked them. But then they went back to saying buzz buzz buzz because that’s easy and does not involve putting your brain through hoops. Just like my boss did. At this point I want to throw a bee hive at people when they ask for buzz.

The Employee From Hell.

I had no idea that my parents were such trendsetters.

They were the ones who started walking on the roof as a form of exercise, and lo and behold, most of our neighbours have now started doing the same. I suppose it’s to do with the fact that both of them are healthier than most for their age (touch wood), internally for sure but they also look amazingly fit and way younger than their years.

Today was a decent day, after our passive-aggressive arguments last week, my boss and I clearly longed for some peace and were polite paragons of cooperation. There were plenty of thank yous and sorrys. It was rather a perfect world order. I also realised that I have a pattern of making my bosses miserable if they make me miserable. The quid pro quo is strong here.

I don’t mean in a way that makes work suffer, but more like them suffer. I’m the kind of employee that acts as a reflective surface for suffering I suppose. Well, it takes a lot to make me like that too. I usually approach conflict with the aim to resolve it, it’s literally coded into me, so if I’m propagating it, some safety valve has switched off.

I remember in my first job role I was so unhappy with my manager and his debilitating micro-management, lack of a spine in front of external teams, and his incessant haranguing on weekends that I blocked him so he couldn’t call me. I’m not sure how long I intended to get away with it, perhaps it was a sub-conscious or partially conscious want to get fired? He figured it out and nearly wept while telling me how ‘No one had ever done this to him ever!’, but trust me he had made me weep far more. Granted that it was juvenile, definitely not up for a repeat, but it’ll always be a story to chuckle over. Luckily for all concerned, my request for a change of role was granted.

There was another time when I may have employed a sharp tone with my boss with a possible elevation of voice. Again, I had been goaded beyond limits of patience by repetition of a situation. But I did recognise that I was losing my temper and stopped abruptly, but not before my boss lost his and had to talk it through with a colleague and calm down with a long smoke break. I did apologise for that one but he’d already sorted it out in his head and was truly understanding of the situation.

Closer to the present, specifically last week, my boss took important calls, calls that affected the work flow, made me liable to look like a fool in front of our agencies, threw us to achieve impossible deadlines and all of this without consulting me. She pushed up the launch for a campaign and told us it’s the next day! This, after clearly delegating that the two of us, a colleague and I, were the ones leading this project. Both of us were in the same boat, confused, unable to understand how to make things happen in the timeline our boss had conjured out of her ass for all we knew. It took a call meeting titled ‘What’s The Problem’ to resolve this. Luckily, my sister had offered me a piece of advice before it, “Don’t get into an ego tussle with your boss. You won’t win even if you do.” So I went in meek but clear about why the whole issue had happened. My boss was feeling injured and resentful by our haranguing of her, “Fine, I’ll discuss with you guys before I take such decisions.” she said as though consulting with her team was the worst thing anyone could have asked her to do.

So there you have it, I hope the growth from the first incident to the last is apparent. All of us have our work place moments I suppose. Someday I’ll write about the first time I cried at the office.

Cherry Not On Top

Initially this post had started with H₂SO₄ generously lining the words, but then a little understanding as a base later, it turned out a bit salty, nothing too harsh. My Chemistry references are so beautiful, I could release a mix of H₂O, mucin, lipids, lysozyme, lactoferrin, lipocalin, lacritin, immunoglobulins, glucose, urea, sodium, and potassium. In other words, tears. Please don’t hate me, I’ll stop now.

So basically I wanted to talk about my boss, let’s call her Cherry. Cherry works when she’s ill. Cherry works on weekends. Cherry works late at night. Did I mention Cherry works with an IV drip attached to her arm, dragging it into office?! Did I mention Cherry asks work related questions on Whatsapp groups on Sunday night when they could’ve easily been sent on Monday morning? That’s Cherry.

I have judged her many times over the past few years. Does she not love herself at all? Or have basic consideration for her team? The way she handled her PCOS issue without a single trip to the doctor for months was shocking. This emotion heightened even more so because she got Covid two weeks ago. And she was working, when she could barely speak or walk two steps. She was working and not sleeping, when sleep is essential for recovery during any flu, forget the mother of all flus. I always think if I don’t truly respect someone I won’t get attached to them, but I am not as smart as I thought. Her well being does affect me, stupid and callous as I find her on many issues.

But let me give you context. Cherry comes from a family where her father left when she was young so it’s been her mother, her younger brother and her growing up. Her mother is a fun, vivacious, warm personality, but not necessarily the grown-up, practical, mature personality that a parent often needs to be. So it fell on Cherry to be that person in their household.

She mothered over her brother, and mother to the extent that she doesn’t want children. I guess some people take that love out of you and spend it all up. She’s the main earning member too, so her job is important. Especially since her husband lost his job two years ago and hasn’t found one since. So yes, she works on weekends and frets over the smallest things and works even when she ought to be resting, because there’s no one in her family financially stable enough to take on that role. On top of that, her mom recently complained of chest pains and had to be rushed to the hospital where they got to know that she had stopped taking her Diabetes medicine for the past year. Why? Because she didn’t want to. Her sugar had increased to such a level as to damage her nerves, hence the pain. Cherry defends each of her family members, spends on her younger brother and spoils him, defends her husband’s non pragmatic choices and bombastic attitude even so far as encouraging it all.

‘Why does Cherry accept such love?’ is the same question as ‘What happens when a parent leaves?’

What does it make someone believe about themselves? How does it impact self worth and self love? There are so many reasons why people grow up with only a few drops of self-love to live on, even with parents in the picture, maybe even due to those parents. But an absent parent, a parent that left, tends to be a concentrated blow to a child’s image of themselves.

So when I think of Cherry in the now, messaging, even when she ought to be resting, I am angry with her and for her. But when I think of Cherry along with where she comes from, I am sad for her, and feel like I can see her clearly. And maybe I can give her solutions that can help her within the constraints of her cage, or maybe just support her.

Because tomorrow when I’m in trouble, though my cage be bigger, it is my own cage. No one can, with anger at those bars locking me in, help me step out of the cage. So, I figure, if I want to support her, I’ll do it without impatience or irritation and just accept that she’ll do it her own way and that she gets that overall, I just want her to get better soon.

Also I am sorry about all the Chemistry references at the start. But not sorry enough that I promise not to repeat. Bye! 😛

Taking Credit

I’ll never get that pith that propels a person to try and take credit for someone else’s work. Insecurity yes, but what makes someone that insecure? There’s this person who happens to be a woman who is trying her best to stay in the spotlight. There is a new boss around so I suppose everyone wants to prove themselves but this person is going into the toilet metaphorically, and from there into the gutter.

Having been groomed in all women teams, I know how bad-ass and supportive women can be of one another. So it’s always a rude, annoying thing to come across a woman who has no such notions in life. It’s like we were cruising at hundred, and then traffic happened. This person is obnoxious to people and it’s hard to hear about it. She hasn’t been that way with me yet, and hopefully it won’t come to that. But I’m not exactly one to lose my temper in a way that is destructive. I mean sure, I’ve had my moments. But usually a measured response is my way, like a gentle slap. I’m just hoping I won’t have to do any of that.

My boss texted us that we don’t do things for credit anyway. I’m sorry it’s not about credit, it’s about ownership, the woman whose idea we’re taking is a person from a different team, whom this woman has completely sidelined. Also, it’s sad that we’ll be working hard on the campaign and this person will soak in all the glory. But I do believe in speaking my mind so I know things eventually fall into place sooner or later. Just got to keep moving and working for it.

My Ex-Boss.

The next few days shall be intense work-wise. By next few, I mean the week. In the spirit of taking our feedback on micromanagement seriously, my current boss has left me to my own devices, which is very stressful because now I’m managing the whole shebang. But I’d rather have it this way than any other.

I dreamt of my old boss, day before night and woke up with the classic, “Huh.” The specifics of the dream have evaporated like water left out in the heat. But the overall imprint was that it took me back to a time when he would simply be a source of joy and make me laugh more than anything else. Isn’t it mind-frikkin-boggling how dreams feel so real? And the disappointment when you wake up is so sharp and disorienting. It had to have been real.

Even when I was in the middle of the real thing, I realised I was unhealthily obsessed with his approval. I craved it. Perhaps because he was the first person to completely believe in me and was a strong team leader, which made me want to soak in his adoration and encouragement. At some point, I even asked myself, is this just that? Was I attracted to him? Because I’d be jealous of anyone taking away his attention, I constantly wanted to be near him and around him – I mean anyone with even a little self-awareness would ask themselves that. But fortunately, that inflection point where you can imagine things with a person, never happened with him. It was a different kind of obsession, if I’m being candid.

If he thought something was cool, it was cool. If he thought something wasn’t, I’d really have to love it very dearly for his opinion to not influence mine. I respected him a lot for his guts, especially in a company full of yes-men. I was…a child in the naive devotion I felt for him. A love that only a mentee can feel for her mentor. And since it was me, it’s intensity was like a clenched fist.

When you’re on that kind of a high, where someone’s approval is your drug, the crash is way worse. Since the approval served as a crutch propping up an addicted self-esteem, when the fix disappeared, my self-esteem took a hit. It was debilitating at the time. Thankfully, right now, there is a huge distance between writing the word ‘debilitating’, and feeling it. Which is why the dream itself was lovely till it lasted, and surprising, as I’d not been anywhere close to thinking about him.

Now, in retrospect, I can see a lot of things clearly. It’s weird that on such a day he remembered me. It was about a job with an insurance client. He asked if I’d be interested. To which I replied that I low-key pretended that the BFSI sector doesn’t exist until the company forces me to declare my investments. He laughed at that and said no problem.

It’s nice that he could reach out to me, it’s nice that when he did, I felt nothing but the pleasant feeling, like a gentle breeze, of having an old, but liked acquaintance wave at you from a distance.

I had never thought I’d get to this point.