Miracle Workers...

Doesn't exactly have the same ring as "sex workers" but then ultimately thats what we are doing. And by WE I mean the depraved lot who parade around as Trainers ( the professionals not the bras). Hired by slutty corporates whose sole existence depends directly upon the oral gratification they can provided their melanin deprived boss across the seven seas.

A conversation triggered off this vehement outpouring (rather jaded at this point). While I was sitting there appropriately dressed but uncomfortable as straight man in gay bar, we feel into conversation about random things. Good times. Great pizza. Then I get a phone call. The lady on the other end is supposedly my colleague and she has some information for me. Here I must pause and give due attention to her accent. Imagine you had a telly that played only one Australian channel and suntv. Thats it. Nothing else. And you being the fidgety fart that you are have to keep switching channels. Imagine the cacophony that would result. Thats exactly how she sounds. Like a friggin kangaroo high on sambar. Anyhoo... I respond to her appropriately, "Yes, sure.. I'll meet you on the 4th floor... The meeting is postponed?! Oh thats a pity.. Yes.. Park5.. of course... I'll see you there.. Take care... bye." The lady sitting with me presently gives me the look as one would give a two headed goat or summat. "Why did you speak like that?!"....
..."Erm... like what?"
"Like.... 'oh... look at me... I have such a briddish accent' and shyt." This is still punctuated by that look she is giving me.
"Well part of my job profile man... They pay me to sound like a friggin brit...and as you can clearly see I do a sucky job of it."

Scoff...

She gets back to her chocolate fantasy and we resume the conversation about better things. But that look and that blatant statement was cooking in the backburner. Why the hell am I doing this? Teaching a bunch of wankers to speak in "Polished English"... with the "stiff uffer lif". Why am I turning each one of these poor innocent MTI rooted buggers into glo-ball citizens?? What am I trying to attain?

I for one am a stickler for identity. Make your own, however turd like it is.. it doesn't matter.. at least its your own turd. What am I doing with these kids? Making them into globally accepted turd bags?

Then the thought occurred to me. These kids walk into these BPOs especially the one which I work for, thinking, they have arrived. Fancy floors with bling bling inside of the tile. Funky Otis lifts with those shiny chrome doors where you can adjust your dupatta, tie and pull that wad of booger out of your nose thats shyly peeping out. They mesmerize them with their fancy toilets. For someone who is used to have tall blades of grass tickle their bums when they are relieving themselves of burden, this is sophisticated machinery. "Whaat? you have to sit... like you are sitting on a chair and do it?" "But the position is not right, it wont come out clearly." Trust these guys to come up concerns of not articulating correctly form the 'objectionable orifice'. Either ways makes sense don't it... its shite we are talking about... anterior or posterior is immaterial.

So screw all you glow-ball corporate world licking dingleberrys. Look at clearing your own backyard before you go and invest in an ornamental garden in the "Land of Fcuking Opportunity". "They pay better, plus you get exposed to various different cultures, plus the standard of living is high there, plus you hold a green card ( with other things that I shall not mention)" All of this serves what purpose? Just so that you can come back with an accent that met with an accident? Not to mention the dollar bills that dot your wallet. The former smoker of ganesh bidi now only drags Malboros, the hair that was formerly marinated in coconut oil now looks like a cat licked it... what with all the stylehardmyhari gels.

Ah... such is life i say... And unfortunately I am propagating these events. So, due to paucity of money here I am forced to do this. But not for long. There will come a time... when I will stop and get back to my home town of "Dementiahatten" Where I can roam wild and free in the ancient runes of my messed up topography. That day will come soon.... Till then.... Corporate slut it is... Sigh...