Workplace Etiquette Primer

Worldwide, women’s right to work remains a contentious issue even today. It is only in the past few decades, that women have been allowed into offices, first as secretaries and then just all over the place; Really, so kind of you sir, so kind. Unfortunately, what this has come to mean is that men must attempt to modify their behavior to accommodate and respond to the more touchy sensitivities of their female colleagues. The rules regarding the same are several and frankly, just convoluted. For those confused souls who have spent years lost in that labyrinth of workplace norms and conventions, this is a simple primer; one designed to facilitate your speedy and artful maneuvering though a work day. For your convenience, the same is divided into sections.

Where your eyes, hands and in general your body must be.

While speaking, the voice emanates from the mouth in women, just like it does among men. Even the olfactory senses are linked to the ears, just as is among men. There is therefore no need to look at the third button on her shirt. Or thereabout. Similarly, when I am done talking and walk away, you must try and get back to your work. No good can come from staring at my butt.

My back, head, shoulder is/are not resting places for your arms or elbows. Leaning into is frowned upon. Especially from the back, as this may mistakenly be construed as trying to look down someone’s shirt. Sidling is also not appreciated either. As a general rule, you must imagine her throwing a punch and keep in mind that most women punch straight, rather than that roundhouse shit. Try to stay out of the reach of these punches. Simple as that.

On conversation

Conversation is fraught with pitfalls and is in general one of the trickiest areas to maneuver. There are so many rules. The most acceptable course of action is to pontificate on mundane topics like – the industry is growing in an unstructured manner or business is hard to come by or it looks like there won’t be any bonuses this year either or other similar management bitching. You throw in some jargon, she throws in some jargon, and it all flows naturally.

You may make requests for personal information e.g. – How old are you? – Only if you are a friend, a very good friend. Or scratch that. Not even when you are a friend may you ask those questions to a lady. Nor may you ask other questions with the intention of getting an approximate idea of such details. Yes, we get exactly what you are asking when you nonchalantly ask ‘So doesn’t it get lonely staying here?’

Even within this constrained set up, using vivid adjectives like ‘h*****i’, ‘c*****a’, is considered forward and consequently, unseemly. Now now, no one is questioning your right to your vocabulary nor indeed am I judging you. In fact, in all probability your use of the word was apt and most definitely called for. But, unfortunately, rules are rules and you must make all efforts not to appear uncouth. The only clawback under this rule is allowed when the lady takes the first step. Even in such case, you must refrain from cursing with gusto as you might with your college friends. And while at it, if you could contrive to look a trifle mortified about it that would be just wonderful.

This may all be a little overwhelming to learn all at once, so I’ll help you with a shortcut – when you get five continuous answers in monosyllables, maybe you have advanced into territory that she does not want you to chart. Retreat immediately and comment on the weather. See where that goes.

Dealing with confined spaces.

When travelling back from a meeting, which you have needlessly dragged me to, you have several options to choose amongst as the answer to the big question – What is the correct guiding principle during a cab ride. There is always the less than comfortable option of not talking at all and staring out of the window, forefinger placed on the chin and thoughtful expression on face. This could easily seem like a waste but you must attempt to apply your mind to thought during this time, after all who doesn’t need practice on that eh? You will notice that during this time I have not plugged into the radio nor did I dive into a book and instead I also sit with a similar dazed expression looking out of the other window. This is because said actions would be considered rude. Nor must one dial a buddy on the mobile device and start yammering on about weekend plans. This is not just rude, but also inconsiderate – I do not need to know that your nickname is Pillu (really dude?)

Of course, if you chose to converse instead, you could refer to the conversation section of the primer.

While in a cab, or in a meeting room, do not attempt to stretch. This sometimes lets those around you become intimately acquainted with that peculiar species of fungus or molasses or whatever it is you are breeding in your armpits. If it is accompanied by a yawn, the action might call into question your oral hygiene issues as well. And of course, it could always accidentally result, to your detriment, in your breaching the punch radius.

Now, it is time for me to sleep and as you will learn in future sessions, it is never acceptable to keep a lady up past her bedtime. So till we meet again then!

Mumbai: Maximum Shitty.

Dream city : The oxymoron used for the worlds largest sewage system. I mean come on, how can anyone call a place where the majority lives in matchboxes, a dream city? And no, by that I do not refer to the matchbox like apartments in which majority of the human population of Mumbai s human populace lives in. I meant that the mice are the majority stakeholders of this city. It is no wonder then that filth seems to form an integral part of the social fabric here. Which is why when a broker( now apparently called Consultants – I cannot decide if Mckinzey employees should be sad or happy about that) calls a house earth-shatteringly good, you can expect a hellhole with an asbestos sheet for a roof, built sometime in the Mughal era and last cleaned before the British left India.
Let us not dwell on filth, let us turn instead to rain. For filth brings us invariably to rains. Or at least in Mumbai it does. Trudging through all the filth of Mumbai, conveniently dissolved in rainwater so that the absorption by your skin and clothes is facilitated, is the richest experience this city can boast of. What can be more fun than getting stuck in office, because you do not feel like stepping into diluted imported dog shit, and playing antakshari with your Boss? Also, just FYI- it rains horizontally here. So just crossing a road with an umbrella in hand meant that I was soaked from shoe sole to spectacle frames. And by now that has happened so many times that I fully expect to find fish living in my shoes. So when in the city in Monsoon season, be sure to look up the Met predictions before you leave for anywhere( And I mean anywhere. Even that panwalas place next door) If it says Heavy to very Heavy( Oh how I miss the “Habby” pronunciation of Calcutta(No, not really)), you are safe. All trace of moisture will be wiped out by the sun. But if the prediction says Sunny climate expected, it will rain enough to bring the trains of the city and hence the city itself to a standstill.
Everything in the nightmare realm called Mumbai is 5 minutes away. Stand somewhere near Colaba( the southern most tip of Mumbai) and ask how to far off Borivali(the northern most tip) is, the average friendly Mumabikar will tell you,” Borivali? Bas 5 minutes. Walking.”(You’ve got to get the tone right.) OK so I am exaggerating. But seriously, if someone in Mumbai tells you that you have to walk 5 minutes to get somewhere, TAKE A CAB. Otherwise you will walk for half an hour and spot the building where they asked you to make the first of 5 left and 3 right turns.
But then you convince yourself that this is only because the people here walk fast. Really fast. Infact they seem to scramble like ants. And essentially, Mumbai is a city of worker ants. For I doubt the travel leaves much time for anything except work. This shouldn’t really bother me since I don’t really have a life, but what troubles me is that now I don’t even have a chance to have a life.