The more things change, the more they remain the same!

Second week into work and I realise things haven’t changed much in two years. Most of the software junta still drinks too much of coffee. The cubicles are called ‘cubes’ in this country and the walls are so damn thin; this is no place to conduct a private conversation. Blue shirts and beige pants look good, as always. Indian women in this field dress conservatively, very conservatively! Everyone looks great on Mondays, starched cotton shirts and shiny shoes. Come Friday and the Levis and Nikes show up. No ambient music in this office and none of those oversized headphones either. Most people spend a good amount of time on the phone, that explains the absence of headphones, I guess. People eat in their cubes, at least the ones that get lunch to work. That is weird b’cos they have a lovely, albeit tiny cafetaria here. ‘Office art’ is still abstract! Who ever pays for that kind of stuff??!! The names are still similar: Srinivasan, Subramanian, Mahadevan, Chandran. Women, at least some of them, will try to make a home of their cubes. A lucky bamboo plant, a picture from home, some hand cream. Men – naah! Or is that an Indian trait? Could be!

Every cube has some junk machine or the other lying around. Nobody knows why it is there or who owns it. It stays on, an eye-sore of sorts! At 6 pm, the A/C drones to a slow stop. Like nobody works beyond 6 pm! Even in this country, some poor programmers do… Once in a while, a all-nighter happens! People walk in around 12 pm, fresh after their late morning sleep. How can I forget the chairs? For all the time these s/w people spend staring at their screens, they deserve a better chair! The same swivel chairs, the same push mechanism… protect your backs, guys! Don’t spend your old age (or youth even) nursing a weak back just b’cos you slaved away your time on a lousy chair!

One day God decided ‘Let there be software’ and millions of programmers descended from India on this country. They swarmed from Mumbai, Pune, Chennai, Bangalore, Hyderabad. Then there was the rush for visas. When everyone had settled peacefully into their ill-designed seats, there was a flurry of activity as wives and kids joined these guys. Getting a driving license, finding out the nearest Indian grocery store, buying stuff from Sulekha.com, more babies born, parents coming over, the works… All pervasive is the smell of coffee. And a new addition: the nauseatingly sweet smell of creamer. Now that was missing in my country!