Working On Saturday

Yesterday was my most fun working Saturday so far. In fact, it was the best Saturday I've had in a while. Went out to lunch with a bunch of people from office for the first time (at short notice, which meant I had to borrow money from my friend and eat my pasta later, but that was hardly a problem at all.)

Lunch was fun despite the restaurant's sheer pinkness. (Wow, "pinkness" is actually a word? I was quite sure it would get underlined in red.) Came back to office completely satisfied after the outing and the food. Since I didn't have much work to do and found that one of the graphic designers wasn't in office, I asked if I could use his graphic tablet. The GD head said that would involve a long installation process, so he actually asked around and found me one which wasn't currently in use and could just be plugged into the system! :)

I spent the rest of the afternoon playing around with it (and distracting other people by drawing them to use it too.) I had the time of my life!     

 

I used it (the tablet) to draw a picture of us at lunch (and Shruti drew the flower):

I know it doesn't look too different from things I draw on Paint without a tablet, but it's the first time I used one, and it took me some time to figure it out.

So yeah, I enjoy my usual day at work, but days like these make it special :) 

Bad Day

If you looked at the title and thought of the Daniel Powter song, please get it out of your head. It doesn't help someone who really has had a bad day. Not one bit. Thank you.

First off, today is Monday. Anyone who doesn't instinctively hate Mondays is not normal (and if someone like me can describe a person as "not normal", well, that's saying something). I'm one of those people who has to wake up at around six to be at the office by half past eight. I'm not saying I have a hard life; I just happen to have had enough today, with the building up of little annoyances.

First off, I sit in the bus and get my white tights dirty. Then I get told off by a conductor for not having some ID I've never heard of before and was apparently supposed to have. Next, the bus reaches one of the last few stops before the one I get off at, and then turns away in the opposite direction. I hurriedly get off, wait for another bus, get onto that, get off at my stop, and walk to office. End of part 1.

Minor dirt marks on white tights - manageable. But of course it wouldn't stop at that. Oh no. Mid-morning, I start eating oranges, and:

Orange juice meets white stole. Perfect. NOT.

Then I do something that would leave the most accident-prone people in this world impressed: I run over my own toe with the chair I'm sitting on. How does something like that happen to someone whose feet hardly touch the ground while sitting? It was not all that very different from Dick Casablancas here (00:30 onwards), although what happened to him is more amusing than what happened to me.

The rest of my time in office goes relatively smoothly. I shut down my computer and gather my things as soon as the clock strikes five (read: as soon as the computer says "17:00", but that sounds less dramatic). Two minutes before I step out, it starts to rain!

Now I'm someone who loves the rain, even when I'm not "sheltered" from it. I love getting wet, jumping into dirty puddles, and being happy when everyone else is looking worried. But come on, does it have to happen on the one day I decide to wear white? I can be as careful as is humanly possible, but it's not going to be of much use, because dirt and the colour white are unnaturally attracted to each other.

Seriously, guys, it's not healthy.

Some other boring stuff happened along the way, and I know you won't care to hear about it. In short, cramped bus, cramped roads, and two and a half hours, and I was back home, just in time to shower, eat dinner, post this, go to bed, and wake up early to hit the road once again tomorrow morning.

Every New Beginning Is Some Beginning's End

No more sleeping in until 10:30 in the morning. No more going back to bed after realizing that for a holiday, you’re up shamefully early. No more rummaging through the fridge and eating at odd times. No more chatting with friends for hours. No more spending all day listening to music and lounging around in nightclothes doing practically nothing.

I start work today, in a few hours, and I’m as nervous as could be. Why else would I wake up at this unearthly hour? I can stay up this late without too much trouble, but I am NOT a morning person. Never been this jittery except on the days we had basketball matches in middle school and high school. (Yes, I used to play basketball, and for someone of my height and general level of laziness I was quite good.)

It’s not so different, come to think of it – wake up early in the morning, pace up and down, do some warm-ups in an attempt to calm down, and prove yourself by putting on the best show that you can. Except that now I get to drink coffee instead of/ in addition to milk. And of course, I won’t be running around the office in bicycle shorts.

See? Not cool.

I’d rather not sleep another hour now because I have so much to worry about – what if I wake up late on the first day? How do I handle the possibility of a smelly person sitting next to me on the bus? What happens if I get to the office too early? What if I leave behind something important at home? Do employees get good coffee? Will the lunch break be long enough for me to quickly get some coffee from Gloria Jean’s? How many times a month can I buy coffee from there without going almost broke? What if they moved? (Hey Gloria Jean’s, do I get some coffee on the house in return for the free advertising?)

I know, I know, I write about coffee way too much. It threw me off track. What was I talking about? Ah yes, I was listing out deep, pensive questions that pave the way to finding a quick solution, should the problem arise. It’s a little distressing, dreading all the things that could go wrong. Excuse me while I think of something to cheer myself up a little. Maybe I’ll watch the last few minutes of Surf’s Up.

I’m back. (Why am I pretending this is a live chat? Maybe it’s because I’ve personified this window, so it’s like a dramatic monologue to a patient – if passive – audience.) Anyway, I have to mention how watching the last ten minutes of Surf’s Up before the credits roll – from the beginning of the contest to the beautiful final scene that ends with the awesome song – actually calmed me down. I recommend it to anyone with the jitters, because hey, how can you not be happy when you have cool penguins, an exciting surfing contest, brilliant animation, comic relief, an awesome funky chicken, that New Radicals song, and a perfectly splendid happy ending?

Now that I feel a little better, I’m thinking: They chose me through legitimate selection, so I shouldn’t be worried sick. My only real worry is that I may get thrown out due to the non-surfacing of blinding awesomeness, but I’ll try and make sure that doesn’t happen. I’m good as long as I make it through the probation period, do at least equally well after, and don’t (either during or after this stage) act delinquent.

Here’s to the beginning of my life as a working woman! (Ew, that makes me sound old.) Wish me luck!