Monday, May 26, 2014

Marketing Wisdom from My Wise Mother

My mother fits nicely into society’s template of a strong, independent woman. At 50-something, she is an engineer with the country’s oldest telecommunication services provider. A heavily left-brained and calculative person, she can transform almost instantly into the overly-caring Indian mother with her ‘traditional’ values all intact. Over the last year of my marketing education, I have observed her purchase behaviour in the brief and scattered semester vacations and picked up her buying preferences over phone conversations when she tells me about her day. Here is a short summary of the things she does which when adopted on a larger scale might upset business models and render many ad people jobless.


Stay away from purchasing products that use celebrity brand ambassadors.

Reasoning: “If they invested the celebrity’s paycheck into improving the product, we’d either have a better product or more quantity. They pay these one-hit-wonders a bomb, complain about bad economy and pack only 70 ml shampoo in the bottle these days.”


Always buy fresh produce from the street-side carts at the supermarket’s steps.

Reasoning: “Fresh produce is never fresh in an air-conditioned environment. Moreover, these vendors need to make a living too.”


What shower gel?

Reasoning: “Contains Sodium Laureth Sulphate – a detergent used in various strengths of cleaners from floor to the face. Is there a Johnson’s Baby shower gel? Surely they know a fair deal about soap.”


Even well-marketed “health foods” don’t test her resolve.

Reaction: Picks up a pack of real green tea leaves from the shelf below Lipton Green Tea bags. I could not tell the difference from the brewed tea.


On trying to lure her with the newest Lay’s flavour-

Reply: “Come home for Diwali, I’ll make you sun-dried chips with cinnamon-garam masala flavour which will keep you warm in that Gujarat winter. I’ll make enough for your friends as well..there will be no air in the pack.”


At the end of a shopping session, my mother’s necessity-driven shopping cart almost always looks like she is close enough to giving big brands a run for their money. True, most of her choices are not necessarily convenient (the chips take three days to bake in the sun) but she has mastered the knack of choosing products that fit perfectly with her lifestyle, almost eliminating the concept of marketing-induced aspirational lifestyle. Some call it being close-minded, I call it power over marketing.

It’s not like my mum doesn’t experiment: between Dove and Himalaya’s new SLS-free shampoo, the switch was a no-brainer. She exhibits undying brand loyalty to Lakmé that goes over her anti-celebrity endorsement stand. Just yesterday, three Lakmé products were picked up after a disapproving look at Kareena Kapoor’s orange lipstick in the store display. Somewhere, somehow, this woman has found balance between being a marketing victim and not dismissing novelty altogether.


One of my goals this year is to bring back some of the aforementioned aspirational value into my mother’s lifestyle. Let’s see how that works out. 

Monday, February 17, 2014

That Writer I Love

That writer I love sits in that bar
Penning that story I’ll read tomorrow;
His words are like butter: salted, untempered
And glide ever so easy.

That writer I love spins tales magnetic
As his eyes when he pens them;
Of flavour and warmth they are full
Of the sun and skies they talk
Of the world and across they take me.

That writer I love tells me of lives
Of times I know not
Of landscapes of colour
That I cannot paint.

That writer I love leaves me hanging
At every line, I fall in love again;
“Close your eyes, I’ll tell you a story”
He says and keeps me waiting
To wake up to him glide away
His black cape trailing.


Sunday, October 13, 2013

Indian IT 101: Survival Guide

This guide is for you if..

..you’re stuck in a job you don’t like for reasons you cannot comprehend. Morning after morning, the shuttle is taken to work, breakfast had, coffee gulped down, desktop switched on and chair adjusted. Some emails to look forward to, tickets to be resolved, a meeting, perhaps a status call. You constantly dream of spending a day outside your work place..just one day, and fondly remember the last time you called in sick to pursue activities more meaningful than fire-fighting over emails. This yearning slowly translates to a desire to pursue something else for a living. You’re not ready to quit your job yet—clarity takes time you see—and there’s that service contract as well. Things need to be sorted and priorities need to be assigned without compromising on current career prospects and this guide has been developed to help you maintain a comfortable status quo. Hence the name ‘Survival Guide’ as opposed to ‘Learn to Love Your Work Guide’ or ‘Get You On-Site Guide’, which must also drop a hint or two on what to expect as takeaway.


Steps for Survival

Arrive at work as usual, earlier if you can. But make no mistake of physically turning up at your workplace earlier than your boss:  befriend technology. If your team starts coming in at 11 am, the first mail you send out better be at 10:20 am, just before you go to brush. Arrive at your desk a little after 11 am, sans bag, pretending to be fresh from a coffee break. It helps a great deal if you start going to work empty handed. In fact, a friend of mine used to place a dummy bag on his desk and quietly sneak in and out of tech park premises at will. But then he also lived within 90 seconds walking distance of said tech park premises so you may choose to weigh various options before taking a call.

Now, the tricky part: work. You do not like it, do not want to do it but see no way out of it. The challenge here is to do minimal work yet make your team (more importantly, manager) not notice the lack of balance in the universe. If you’ve been around long enough, you may use the services of an enthusiastic protégé and get some work done on pretext of ‘mentoring’. When such enthusiasm is unavailable in resources around (tch tch), careful delegation and seeking help is the way forward. However, stay around to observe and contribute to important developments that involve your work. Be alert in sending mails (never delegate this activity), scheduling calls and meetings, conveniently keeping your presence virtual. Volunteer to take up chhota-mota initiatives that may ‘add value to deliverables’: this is a fairly certain way of acquiring those brownie points during appraisal. Note that all of the above must be performed in a clever manner else you’ll end up doing more work than usual which is out of the scope of this guide.

General workplace behaviour must also be altered while you take your time to measure priorities. Adopt the ways of an enthu cutlet. Contribute to team building activities and general work atmosphere..basically anything that can ‘make your presence felt’. About once a week, stay back late, even if you’re doing nothing in particular because face-time is desirable. Use this time to talk to people around you and place building relationships over the highly-abused, flinch-inducing term ‘networking’. Hear their stories, share yours, try and collaborate and for all you know, your work may just start generating appeal.


And finally

How you spend your time during this status quo maintenance is up to you. Most people seek alternate employment, prepare for competitive exams or browse matrimonial sites (notice the avoidance of mentioning gender here). I used it to figure out the general direction in which my career could head, gathered information, worked towards some short and mid-term goals and finally ended up in a happier place. And if this post has got you thinking even a little, things are probably not going well for you and I do hope you take a leap in the direction you desire and sort things soon.


Disclaimer

This guide is based more on observation than experience. Potential employers may kindly not use it to judge my professional ways or brand me as trouble.


Saturday, April 20, 2013

How Uday Chopra Ripped My Will To Live


Kitne kitno ko star banaya, apne bete ko star nahi bana paya”, quipped a chirpy RJ on a Bangalore radio station, referring to Yash Chopra’s inability to make a Bollywood sensation out of his own son after having ‘discovered’ many a faceless wonder. My little brain with its limited Bollywood knowledge tried to disagree because Aditya Chopra was as big as most mainstream Hindi actors but apparently, he wasn’t the son being ridiculed on radio. Enter Uday Chopra.



Way back in class 6, a certain multi-starrer flick had got the entire school drooling. “Aishwarya Rai comes like a ghost yaaa” was heard between numerous ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s  directed at the leading men, all except one.  Over the next decade, the obliterated leading man made several appearances (quite understandably) in movies produced by daddy dearest. I am not of the opinion that looks make a good actor but Chopra Jr. was several notches below let-down in both departments. However, his lacklustre performances and a general deficiency of charisma were simply ignored, as were his repeated attempts to vie for the womankind’s attention against the likes of a certain John and a new Bachchan.  For all I cared, Chopra Jr. and I shared a live-and-let-live policy.

..until it was violated last week, when certain life-changing information was revealed to me. Enter Nargis Fakhri.





Now I share most Indian gentlemen’s sentiment that Nargis Fakhri isn’t hot, she’s the sun. Last week, I happened to gather that The Sun has found love in —wait for it— Chopra Jr. Without bringing up the argument if it indeed is love that is blind or if it is just Ms. Fakhri, I chose to look at the Chopra lad with a different point of view. Was there the smallest chance that he wasn’t as bad or undeserving as popular media made him out to be?


The time taken for fair evaluation could have been better utilized by helping my employer without expecting monetary compensation. She doesn’t even seem to be in it for the money, considering she’s probably made more dough from Rockstar than he has from his entire career. But I tend to drift. You must be wondering why I chose to bring up Bollywood and Page 3 this fine evening, a first in the seven years this blog has seen. Coming back again to the life-changing part of the revelation, the knowledge of a romantic relationship between these two has made me ask myself an important question: if all The Sun could manage to bag was a sub-par Chopra, what’s the best this lesser mortal can get..in a world where even Ritesh Deshmukh is taken?

The options:

a)



b)



I don’t even have the heart to come up with Option C. Kindly use the comments section below to vote/suggest.


Saturday, February 16, 2013

My Experience with India Post


When your parents are in government service, you are raised to respect the government. You are provided justification upon justification on the state of affairs in the country, a matter of endless rants in most other households. Parents in government service come with perks, not limited to waiver of phone bills, vacations in guest houses, and rides in a stately chauffeured Ambassador. Many years later, you will look back at these days with a sigh of nostalgia while standing in line at the passport office or the RTO.

Recently, a popular entrance exam required its applicants to dispatch their applications using either ‘ordinary’ post or registered post. “Better send it a week before the deadline. You know how the postal department is”, a friend warned. How is it, I wondered and went to the post office that weekend. It was a heavily partitioned one-room space bustling with activity, much to my surprise. Hadn't we heard enough times that nobody uses physical mail or stamps these days? Well it appears as if India Post has found other ways to keep its staff employed and occupied. This is commendable when you read about several other legacy government organizations and PSUs deliberating on downsizing and hiring freezes every day.  IP probably learnt a thing or two about calculated hiring after telegraph spiralled downward.

The crowd around me was a mix of people from all walks of life—an elderly gentleman accessing his savings account, a few people buying envelopes, a lady sending multiple speed posts, and—to my delight—a young philatelist asking if there were new stamps released recently. My speed post was bar-coded and a tracking number was generated before one could say the name of a popular courier company. It would reach in two days, said the lady at the counter, to a destination halfway across the country. This with online tracking facility cost me about 60% less than the average private courier service.

A new relationship was forged that day. When I went there this morning to collect the entrance exam’s score card, I left with an inland letter (remember those?), envelopes and stamps to surprise my grandmother who loves receiving letters.

Saturday, December 08, 2012

Exacting Smartness

I texted you,
You Whatsapped back.
I posted on your Wall,
You pinged me on GTalk.
I pinged back on GTalk,
You Vibered me.
I buzzed you on Lync,
You mailed me on Yahoo.
I messaged you on FB,
You shared a post on G+.
I messaged you on Linked In,
You sent a talking parrot on Farmville.
Seriously?

 I invited you to an Outlook meeting,
You invited me to your Picasa album.
I pinned an interest,
You YouTubed yours.
I wrote this blog post
while you Tweeted.

It's time to throw away
this smartphone
and call home.
If you don't answer,
I'll see your light on,
cross the street
and knock on your door.

Monday, September 10, 2012

"Counting Starts Now. 1..2..3.."

The awesome, spectacular, and the extraordinary always happen when you least expect them. I have a knack like nobody else does for missing out on the aforementioned trio but on a recent Sunday evening, that was not the case. Now, most people who know me well also know how I feel about this person-



Elaboration: Long before the jokes were conceived, long before Rajnikanth was made a feeble meme, I had grown to admire him. To this day, no individual's charisma has managed to stir me like this man's screen presence, his absurd confidence (both on and off camera) and that perfect comic timing have. As a Bronte-Vivaldi-lover, I can think of only one basis for such fondness for a person whose on-screen antics mostly border on the crass and the ridiculous: there is something about him.

It was a hurried two-hour notice. Rajnikanth had come down to grace a venue not far away from my residence and I would be able to catch a glimpse of him if I hurried. Everything else was forgotten sooner than a drop table SQL query as I rushed for it. Now, I'm a person who takes her time with everything, be it to walk, devour dessert, or pursue the 9:30 am shuttle. Not that day, no. Fifteen years.

About two hours later, there he was, clad in white, arms folded before an idol while chants echoed all around, strict vigil maintained. He looked around once in a while, probably saw me, probably didn't. Most of you won't get—or will even go ahead to banish—what I felt like standing there. Why him, you ask. There is no answer. Celebrity mania is something I never understood nor was a part of but this was something else..much beyond the autograph-handshake-photograph-Facebook update mania. 

Barely minutes later, it was time for him to leave and surprisingly, I didn't want to be part of the group that wanted to talk to the man whose movies had made me believe in miracles..that every man's life had the faintest hope of being larger than life. Frankly, I have no idea what difference those couple of minutes made to my life but there was an undeniable sense of joy, probably because some sort of a childhood dream came true. At the end of the day, Rajnikanth is an artist I admire and now it seems like this blog post had little basis to be written. This may be one of the few moments in my overly articulate, exceedingly verbal life to cut things short and get back to watching Baba..maybe make it a movie marathon.



Friday, July 06, 2012

The Food Blog

As it turns out, people have always associated me with food and there are no two ways about it. Every meal I tuck into concludes with planning the next one. Every lunch hour begins with coaxing classmates/colleagues to take an early break, stay longer in the cafeteria and make room for dessert. Every tea break is a fancy two+ cup affair with accompaniments. Such fondness, such love I shall never have for anything else and it's er..time to make it official. So there's a dedicated food blog with its own domain and the works which will feature reviews. Product reviews predominantly, but you might end up liking them.

Apologies for blatant personal marketing but do check it out here. Or by clicking on the giant green image on the right scroll-bar which I ensured you wouldn't overlook in a hurry. Any kind of feedback will go appreciated..use the mail address on the 'Contact' page.

Thanks!

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Chennai 101


There must be a god, after all. A god who grants wishes selectively, who programs this selection so meticulously that the timing of your wish being granted coincides rather perfectly with that of your nightmare coming to life. Every fumbling fresher to the Indian IT/equivalent industry dreads one thing: a posting email to Chennai, Tamil Nadu, India. Mine was a New Year 2012 gift.

Now, Chennai is a city that has acquired a questionable reputation in recent years, with the aforementioned question not restricted to its sultry climate alone. Techies and other mortals alike paint a picture of an uninhabitable sauna room of a city with apparently no food, water or miscellaneous essentials. There are also some survivors who paint a picture of a cultural haven which happens to be a foodie’s delight. Having spent a few months in the city, I choose to stand between the two pictures, noticeably leaning to the latter.

I stepped into the city in early February which is winter in most parts of the country. Chennai, however, has two seasons: summer and deadly summer. The days were hot and humid while nights were pleasantly humid, making air-conditioned accommodation about as necessary as say..food. You’d think such accommodation is easy to find in the heartland of Madras Presidency but wait..chances are your workplace will be on Old Mahabalipuram Road, the IT expressway on the outskirts of the city. Real estate brokers who operate here double as economics gurus, controlling the supply and price of furnished accommodation to bring it just within the reach of the average corporate slave. In short, I found a half-decent place to crash.

Even potential sociopaths require company. The fact that about twenty fraands lived within hopping distance of my residence reduced the agony of relocating to Madras. Observing cultural diversity, studying the thought process of people around and continuing my notes on group dynamics made the average day entertaining. There was little scope for silence as entertainment prevailed and bonding happened. But I tend to diverge. The food..yes. Chennai offers predominantly South Indian, particularly Chettinad food. Some restaurants in the city offer staple dishes that are simple yet extraordinarily delicious while others go out of their way to nurse one’s culinary curiosity. But the best food I had incidentally came from the kitchen of a Gurudwara.

Entertainment in Chennai is plentiful, with proximity to the coastline accounting for a greater part of it. Unlike Bangalore (where I have lived all my life and where entertainment these days seems to restrict itself to shopping, eating or drinking), Chennai tends to amuse one with its beaches, adventure sports destinations and several convenient weekend getaways. So Pondicherry happened and it was amazing. The IIT-campus is a world by itself, with more wildlife sighted on the campus than its junta. Another noteworthy mention is the cinema hall scene in Chennai: ticket prices in multiplexes can go as low as 10 INR and nay, this is no typo. Auto-rickshaws aside, living in this city is probably far less expensive than other metros.

The localites I met in Chennai (including strangers on the road) were largely helpful and genuinely nice, sometimes going out of their way to help. One particularly memorable incident was when an elderly couple escorted us to our destination when they could have merely gestured directions. “It will be difficult for you girls to search at night”, the gentleman said at 7 pm. Language was never a problem as most people seemed to speak fluent English and I managed to churn up broken Tamizh frequently. Yes, the surroundings were very different from what I was used to. Retail, food and hospitality sectors need to spread their wings (especially in the IT area!), water management must be made better and the city could definitely do with multiple commercial centres but the fact remains that it ticks better than most metros. Be it the ten-person-shared-autos, windowless buses, claustrophobia-inducing electric trains or the ‘Anna Cool Bar’s that outnumber Bangalore’s ‘Cake Paradise’s, Chennai has a heart and soul which deserve perpetual ovation.

Three months in Rajniland, if nothing else, will strengthen your endurance and build character like few other ways of living can. I wished to ‘have a blast’ living away from home, my New Year resolution was to make life more entertaining and both have been fulfilled in the most superlative of ways.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

I live to eat. Justification-

It is disheartening to witness that in five years of blogging, justice hasn’t been done to the one thing I love. Dear reader, paint me as you want post this narration..couldn’t care less. I love food, live to eat and other cliché should conclude this sentence fine.

1) This blogger travelled 60 km in Bengaluru's traffic just to taste what ToI called the perfect coffee in Bangalore. Totally worth it.

2) Post lunch, this blogger managed to polish off 1.5 DBCs at Corner House single handed (frand wanted to THROW AWAY 0.5 DBC! Such a whack this toon had never received).

3) This blogger managed to finish Fresco’s 20 layer cake in under 20 minutes. And was eager for more.

4) One Saturday, this blogger scoured most of North Bengaluru by herself for the perfect bhel puri and found it at her fifth attempt.

5) The quest for the perfect paratha is still on.

6) This blogger found the perfect Butter Masala Dosa before she was born.

7) Cuisines from most parts of the country...conquered.

8) Cuisines from most parts of the world...will be conquered soon.

9) This blogger had Maggi for breakfast, lunch and dinner for three days (nine attempts at preparation) to make the perfect Maggi variant. Mission accomplished.

10) Something similar happened with pasta a week later. Ah..adolescence.

11) A 100gm bar of 70% dark chocolate was subconsciously cleaned in under an hour (that actually aided recovery from minor illness). This was when my family began to suspect I’m crazy.

12) A pound of Hershey’s Mildly Dark vanished without trace in five days. That’s when my family concluded I’m a maniac.

13) Ask this blogger what happened to her thirteenth birthday cake. Ask. Aaaask. :D

14) This blogger’s biography will have a cliché chocoholic related title.

15) Or maybe a caffeine related one. About 400 ml of SSB is ingested on an average day. No addiction. Yet.

16) If you invited me to 'hang out', I probably came there solely for the food.

17) Quest for the perfect Jalebi, Gulab Jamun, Vada Pav and Bakarwadi still on. And I need your help on this one.

Yes, someday I’ll die of a nutrition-related illness..possibly even suffer from diabetes in a few years. Until then, it is ‘all I can eat’. :)

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Ooo. I saw God.

Last weekend, I had the pleasure of visiting the abode of a deity at one of the richest temples in the world. For a self-confessed religious apathetic, this was the first visit to a temple in four years and was more a product of compulsion than free will. However, a minor factor that materialized the journey was indeed free will, although restricted to savouring a certain sweet delicacy the temple gives away, possibly as consolation for having to navigate a mile long maze to catch a glimpse of the deity.


My contingent reached the temple at the crack of dawn. ‘Heh, we’ll beat the queue before it even forms’ was the motive. Sadly, as if to certify India’s upholding of ‘unity in diversity’, several thousand people with the exact motive as my parents’ had already taken their places and there we were, sorry faced, at the far end of the queue. As we inched towards the gold building, I realized the unimaginable: Indians are the most motivated people in the world. The aforementioned citizenry that had thronged a square kilometre space had only one goal that day – get a glimpse of ‘god’. Nothing else mattered. Nobody even bothered to look at the five-hundred year old inscriptions engraved on the temple’s walls, built by an emperor considered among the greatest in Indian history. That the stone temple stood on an entirely stone-based foundation plastered with clay over centuries did not matter to them as did the fact that the food they would later be served is still made from the same recipes the emperor’s cooks used half a millennium ago.


This theory of no-gaze-avert was put to test when the crowd reached the gold-plated architectural marvel. Yours truly overheard discussions revolving around bullion trade and jewellery with miscellaneous entertainment about how many necklaces and bangles could be made with the building’s gold exterior. Again, nobody took a second look at the figurines etched in gold: souvenirs from Hindu mythology that boasts of magical birds, animals and events, all beautifully depicted. But my version of culture shock happened when we were in front of the holy idol. It was a world I had seen only in Discovery’s coverage of the Kumbh Mela – chants, prayers, closed eyes, palms gathered, all with genuine, unshakeable faith. I don’t know if they were repenting for sins, praying in gratitude or seeking the almighty’s help but the faith that was obvious in their intensity of salutation, their desperation to get more than a glimpse of their god, their determination in trying to manage a few more prostrations before being pushed away to make room for more people..was almost like passion, passion I had never felt before, faith that I have never seen nor had in time, people or even in myself. For someone alien to the concept of belief, looking at an idol could never be as meaningfully comprehensible as seeing what it meant for the millions who travelled for days..for that single glimpse of god.


And then surprisingly, it all ended. The tension, the adrenalin they had in front of the deity almost instantly subsided. Theoretically, almost an equal number of people were expected at the Prasadam Counter but I seemed to be among the few lone, obviously exhausted warriors seeking an oasis. With more than sufficient sugary spheres to last the return journey, I exited the oasis in glee.


Back home, nothing had changed. The same people who could grind mountains to dust before the almighty had come back to level zero and went on with their business as usual..daily prayers still being offered, prostrations still made, chants still pursued, finer details of their day still overlooked.


And D.K Bose, still running.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

The Blogger Clique Theory

The Blogger Clique Theory was proposed by PCH01. It states that bloggers stop blogging when they see their perceived audience (other clique member with Blogging / internetpoints clout) disappearing.

Let A, B, C and D be a group of blogger acquaintances. As long as A, B, C and D mutually interact on a regular basis, there is a constant flow of blog posts on each of their blogs. The moment A, B and C get their offer letter, frequency of respective blog posts wanes and D, with no apparent reason to stop posting stops posting.


Associated dynamics:


• If A, B, C, D are a group of bloggers, their frequency, topic, word play and nature of blogging influence each other. If they are a closely knit group, A, B, C and D will share fundae, playlist, reading list, to read list and so forth.

• If A, B, C are bloggers and D is a non-blogging common acquaintance, D will start blogging within a few months of being acquainted to A, B and C. The quality of D’s blog may be superlatively superior or exceedingly inferior to that of the other three.

• D, from the aforementioned inferior case will tend to up the frequency of blog posts, mostly to appear ‘ishtud blogger type’. D’s blog and Tweet history will then correspond. The service provider hosting several D-rated blogs would then suffer a massive blow in subsequent Google PR allotment parties. However, most Ds start on Blogger which Google already owns, explaining the detritus orbiting as you read this.

• D, from the aforementioned superior case will eventually intimidate A, B and C. There will be blog wars, with areas of contention being number of patrons, fan out of posts, flaw detection and the like. If A, B, C, D have monetized their blogs, SEO wars will be waged to gain traffic and hence AdSense revenue.


The virtual world was free from such bewilderment in circa 2006. But free speech seems to have thrived and none is gladder than I am to witness it.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

ValEd Hour

Recent posts on this blog have lost the vibe of having been born in a shrink's office. It's probably time for such a post.

Passion

Being coerced into doing something one does not like often makes one find other outlets for creativity. In most cases, however, one succumbs to depression and passion ceases to exist. In another world, excelling in something you passionately dislike is the best validation in the world. Speaking of which,

Validation

Apparently, the weak alone seek validation from sources other than themselves. Opinions of other (and permit me to say, lesser) mortals, pleasant or not, are mere strings of words which should not make one feel better or worse at the end of the day.
That, children, is the ideal case. Every night, your last thought is of that event which was not in your favour. And this will go on forever, there’s no fighting the process of validation. The point of this paragraph is that it while it is completely fine to seek validation, what’s not fine is depending on it for a boost of self-esteem.

I am what I am..

..is an excuse egomaniacal souls came up with to ignore criticism. When someone suggests beneficial improvement, give an ear before quoting popular SMS forwards that ask the recipient to perform unmentionable tasks if the sender’s attitude is unacceptable.
‘I am what I am’ is only contextually applicable. One of these contexts is when you are forced to go against your ideals. Google the others and use the line wisely.


Universal Popularity


Won’t happen. I was resented for being a tad more liberal than others in a social group which led to a dramatic story..for another day. This is another context to quote the previous header and strut away to greener pastures. In the absence of such pastures, I do not know how to deal with people who dislike you yet interact with you on a regular basis. You are welcome to suggest ways.


Expectation


Three years of college taught me to not expect even courtesy from most people. Calls went unreturned, as were texts and ‘friendly’ advances. This only added to the humour of character building though, because at the end of three years, people who mattered had always returned love.

...

These are just some things I realized (rather late), which you probably have already. If not, don’t dwell on them. Learn your own lessons.