my incarceration there, I maintained a pocket diary in which I noted
down the daily fiascoes coming my way. I have finally calmed down
sufficiently to edit out all the swear words and form the text into
coherent sentences.
11/08/2010: Shock! Astoundment! Nauseousness and a few "Zounds!"
thrown in - I am standing in the little cell that is to be my living
quarters for the next two months. I am aghast. I never figured taking
up a job offer with one of "the world's leading IT consultancies"
would include living in drab and dismal conditions like this room I
was supposed to call "home". Picture yourself in a pink box 8X8X12
feet in dimensions, containing two beds, a table and a plastic chair
and an attached bathroom. You will realise there is room for naught
else.
As I wonder, a little dazedly, what the hell I am supposed to do with
my full suitcase of clothes (no cupboard), the fan suddenly dies (no
power - power outages occurred more often than not - between 5:30 AM
to 2 PM, as I later found out). I drag the suitcase in and push it
horizontally under the bed and curse myself to sleep at night.
12/08/2010: The harsh tones of a popular Hindi number wakes me up (I
had forgotten to set "Minuet", which happens to be my preferred alarm
tone). I have no idea that this is to be the first of the many rude
jolts I'm to suffer for the duration of the day. I few minutes later,
I find out the bathroom doesn't even have a hot water faucet, let
alone a water heater; solar or otherwise. I'm thinking to myself that
I cold water shower at 6 in the morning on a daily basis is definitely
not good. As per routine, there was no power and I'm shaving in the
dark. Numerous cuts and nicks later, I'm dressed in what would be
called business formals and waiting for the company bus which is
supposed to pick us up from our lodgings at 7 AM (It finally turned up
an hour later). The rest of the day goes by in presentations by
bigwigs and departmental heads all vying for the award of "Most Boring
Person in a Tailored Suit".
Upside: I find out there are coffee-vending machines all over campus!
A special mention I have to make about whatever passes for food, here
in Heaven. Everything looks like a soggy rag heated in coconut oil and
tastes exactly the same.
13/08/2010: Today passed me by in a flurry of confusion. Dealer and me
decide to rebel against the lodgings given us. The first few
complaints we register have been met with deaf ears, some verisimilar
promises and a couple of stares that have but one reason behind their
being – to convey to us that the starer, by no means whatsoever,
approves of our firm's-reputation-undermining-business. Finally, the
HR people, having gotten fed up by our constant in-your-face attitude,
have challenged us to find better accommodation at the same price.
Poor fools! They have played right into our hands. Not for nothing is
Dealer named so.
We spent the afternoon watching a documentary on our Company's
"Founding Fathers" and gnashing our teeth whenever the narrator told
us how the Company proved to be a benchmark for Human Resource
Management.
14/08/2010: The weekend! We decide to go to the city – Bengali,
Beachball and me – to meet up with Dealer, Body and Sunny. We explored
the city today, which meant we managed to find a bar eventually where
our explorations stopped and Beachball got drunk and Bengali (who has
sworn never to see the inside of a bar again) freaked out. Beachball
launched into a loud tirade against the shortcomings of Heaven
("God-forsaken place!" she avowed) . Sunny & Body keep stepping out to
a cheaper pub next door where they can down a few stiff ones before
relaxing with the one drink each that they have ordered in the bar.
15/08/2010: While the rest of the country celebrates Independence Day,
Unpronounceable Town is bedecked in yellow streamers celebrating
God-knows-what. Dealer has weaved his magic and found rooms for us
with much, much better facilities at the same price. We only need an
OK from the Company and we can move there.
16/08/2010: "Training" began today. We had soft skills session all
morning – 4 hours of it. They've put us in batches (the easier to
control us). Bengali & Dealer are together. Beachball & me are in the
same group. There are 29 in our team. I immediately see Beachball and
me have no competition when it comes to soft skills (the rest seem to
have trouble putting two sentences together).
It feels like I'm in an air-conditioned jail. Permissions are required
in triplicate to go anywhere outside the building. I have to go down
to the bank 2 kms away during the half-hour lunch break we get to see
about my Fixed Deposit (we're supposed to submit a fixed deposit held
by us and the Company jointly for 2 years. A surety in case we cut
loose before the stipulated job period and the Company loses a very
valuable asset in us. I have managed to delay the proceedings at the
bank in such a manner that I will get the deposit receipt in a
moments' notice if I actually try. I, however, am dallying until they
stop discriminating in the workplace and agree to let us move into the
new lodgings Dealer found). It took me ten whole minutes to get the
permission to leave the premises and I have to run down to the bank in
the pouring rain and run back uphill for my Programming class. Did I
mention all rooms are air-conditioned in the Office? We have 4 more
hours of class in the afternoon. I spent all 4 hours shivering in my
wet clothes. The HR people have successfully avoided us all day. We
can't move tonight.
17/08/2010: Same story as every morning. Shaving in the dark and
shivering under a cold shower etc. I'm getting really irritated at
having to live out of my suitcase for 2 months. I iron my clothes
neatly every night and put them into my suitcase carefully. But then,
owing to lack of space in the room, I am required to place the said
suitcase vertically against the wall. Come morning and my pressed
shirts are wrinkled again. We are having a whole day of programming
today. I can't think more many more boring things to do. Dealer & me
finally manage to corner one of the elusive HR people. She tells us
she needs to clear it with a Bigshot guy. After class, in the evening,
we go to the administrative section – Dealer, Sunny, Body and me. We
have no idea about the cleverly sprung trap we've just walked into. HR
Head walks up and hauls Dealer and Sunny for having a hint of stubble
on their cheeks. She gives Body and me the once-over and hauls him off
for bad haircut for a good measure. Many insults (from HR Head) and
stunned looks (from us) later, we're back to patrolling outside
Bigshot's office waiting for him to get off his phone. He makes us
wait for half an hour more before motioning us inside. Without so much
as giving us a chance to say "Er…", he began lambasting us on our
audacity at even hinting at the inadequacies of the Company. I am
feeling very much like a schoolboy standing in front of a
formidable-looking headmaster. He keeps berating us for fifteen
minutes or so and then imperiously dismissed us from his presence. It
takes all of us to calm Dealer down (he was saying something about
teaching Bigshot the right way to knot a necktie).
As we are making our way out dreading the long trudge back to the main
gate of the campus and the longer walk (in my case) or bus journeys
(in the others' cases) from the gate to our personal hellholes, who
should stop by in his swanky car but Bigshot! He offered as a lift
which we politely declined. But he was rather insistent. I guess he's
trying to show his magnanimity. We let him drop us to the gate while
enduring another lecture on how we were no more than nasty
delinquents.
Over dinner, I decide to quit the Company.
18/08/2010: I quit! I think I'm free, the fool that I am. The sadists
at the company have one last bit of malice planned before we part
ways. When I quit and surrendered my ID card and paid my
transportation dues (they made me pay for a week's worth of bus
service when I'd actually used the bus thrice instead of the twelve
trips the charged me for), the HR people asked me to pay my surety of
50000 bucks which I was supposed to give them in the form of the Fixed
Deposit. The shrewd operator that I am, I hadn't even submitted them
my Service Agreement (which is an all-important document that makes
you their slave for the next 2 years). Without my Service Agreement,
they have no legal document that asserts my having been employed by
them and so, they cannot ask me to pay them a surety. This legal
jargon, I pointed out rather succinctly I thought. I was proved right
when, seconds later the HR people turned different colours ranging
from reds to blues. I was rather impolitely asked to leave the
premises which I did so with a spring in my step and a song on my lips
(first time I've thought of music in this life-sapping Hades). I
thought I'd outwitted them properly. There was a nasty surprise
waiting at the bank when I went in to collect my Fixed Deposit – the
bank informs me that I would need a letter from the Company allowing
the bank to remove the lien and hand over the money to me. Though I'm
pretty sure they would not help me out, I walk back through the
Hallowed Gates and, a few wasted minutes later, came back outside
empty-handed having been tersely informed by the HR Halfwits that it
was against company policy to hand out written documents to
non-employees. "Ah! Impaled upon my own sword" I thought.
Disheartened, though I was, I decided to go to the bank one last time.
I went straight to the manager and explained to him my situation. He
shook his head and held his hands out in a gesture of helplessness. "I
can see nothing that can be done without a letter from the Company
expressly stating that you aren't an employee of theirs anymore" he
said. I decided to bluff a bit and put on an expression of such
bravado that even I was surprised at the manager's sudden change of
tactics when I informed him that I was willing to pursue a legal
course of action and would file a criminal suit against the Company
and would make sure his bank's name figured prominently in the
lawsuit. The manager quickly called up the Company and explained my
stance to them. Five minutes later, his fax machine beeped and there
was a letter from the Company stating that I was no longer employed by
them. Five more minutes later, I was walking into the sunset with my
money in my pocket and feeling vindicated. I go to the railway station
and take the next train back home. Goodbye Hellhole.
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