tHinkeR aloud

Back in the day, I'd usually take everything at face value. It saves time. I still believe that...but it has also become second nature to me to re-evaluate everything I hear for "deeper" intent or implication. Sometimes, I read between lines that are not even there, to begin with.

That's just one of the changes that being an HR professional has brought in me. I'm hoping it is particular only to the field, and that I will grow out of it when I move on, because I sure as hell do not like it.

I wouldn't call myself naive, or even optimally street-smart. I'm just someone with too many things on her bucket list. Ergo, there isn't ever enough time to delve into hidden meanings in what people say, or to make murtabak of my own intent. If you're someone I care about, and have chosen, for some reason, not to be direct, I'll back off and wait till you're comfortable talking. And you'll know where to find me when you are, because you're that important. But if we're simply getting business done in as cordial a manner as possible, don't you think we'll all save time if we say what we have to, and get going?

But as I was saying, taking things to mean what they sound like is a luxury you're denied in Human Resources. Whether it is an investigation, an interview or the usual 9-in-the-morning meeting, you're conditioned - without knowing it - into evaluating everything at three levels, at least, before responding to it. And the funniest thing is, all this processing happens in real time, in the blink of an eye, and you tailor your response to give it the suitable degree of ambiguity.

The other change HR has brought in me is pretend-patience. I wish I could say being an HR manager has made me a more patient human being, but that would be a lie. I'm still, essentially, as (im)patient as I was the first 20-odd years of my life. Professionalism demands that you exercise a fair degree of forbearance, however, and in Human Resources it is a cardinal rule. I'm happy to comply, because if I'm going to work in a professional set-up, it is only fair that I play by the rules. But this thinking aloud isn't about mandatory patience - it is about how I follow the mandate. And much as I tried to use this as an opportunity to do away with the short fuse, all I've succeeded in doing is not flying off the handle at the drop of a hat.

Lest this post sound like a cribfest about HR, let me bring in what may qualify as compensation. I wouldn't go so far as to call it the upside - because it isn't - but it could try for that label, and I wouldn't discourage it right away. Being in Human Resources introduces you to a whole variety of people - each of whom brings in a whole variety of quirks - you wouldn't have met ordinarily. A lot of it has to do with the fact that, as an HR manager, you meet anywhere between thirty to three thousand colleagues a day, and as many as 20 new faces in a standard day of recruitment interviews. Some of it also has to do with how people generally perceive the HR department, and how that perception affects behaviour that is already unique by virtue of being human.

Not complete, this post, so I'll come back later and write more. Till then, wish me luck. I have behavioural event interviews coming up, and I'm really not looking forward to them.

Image courtesy Google Images

The Irony

'Are you coming to Hudson Lines for dinner?', I asked my friend, who was waiting outside the Seminar Room.

'Can't', she said shortly. Couldn't blame her. She had been sitting there all afternoon and evening, waiting, first for her group discussion, then her interview, then another...and now for the results. In three years of college, I had never seen her so worked up.

'I'll wait here with you.'

'No, I don't want company. Honestly, I'll feel a lot better if I'm here by myself.' Her reply was so prompt, I stopped midway through hoisting myself onto the windowsill to sit next to her.

I didn't argue. I understood.

'I hate people from Human Resources', I thought fiercely to myself. 'And recruiters are the worst of the lot. I'm glad I've never thought of getting into HR. I don't want to. Ever.'

--------------------

'You went to all this trouble for someone who said such a blunt No?' I was incredulous.

He shrugged. 'You have to do what you have to do. Besides', he busied himself looking out of the window, 'I don't like her. I mean, I like her well enough, but I haven't fallen for her or anything. That's all in your imagination.'

'Right.' I didn't bother veiling the sarcasm. He and I had seen each other through one low too many for me to buy that.

He gave up. 'Yes, I like her. She likes me back too. Maybe. I don't know. It doesn't matter. I'd have done this for her anyway.'

'And what about you?'

'I'll be fine', he shrugged again. 'Look, I needed to know she'd be okay.'

'All you end up with is a lot of broken pieces', I mused, walking out of the dining hall. 'I wonder how people fall in love. Why fall in love at all? I'm glad I'm not in love. I don't see that happening. Even better.'

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'Aren't you going to miss this place?'

She gave me a rather puzzled look. 'Why should I miss it?'

'Well, all the time you spent here must count for something. A little bit of emotion, maybe, or some memories?'

She laughed. 'Yes, yes, I like having been here and I guess I'll think about it from time to time. It's okay. The world won't stop turning!'

I laughed along, but with a sense of uneasiness. I didn't understand. 

Whether it was the result of forced intimacy, routine, or actual emotion, attachment could not be avoided. Should not, if you asked me. For what kind of a life would it be, I wondered, where something was a constant presence, yet completely uncared for? It was waste of the most regrettable kind, I thought, to allow something to occupy so much of your time or space - or both - and not bother connecting with it. Time spent like that was time spent existing, not living.

Detachment, I thought, was more of a theoretical concept. I, for one, would never be able to put it into practice.

Thinking Aloud - II

An overnight train journey that lasts exactly as long as you need to sleep every night, doesn't really count as a journey. And a 40-minute flight that isn't on board an ATR, doesn't feel like a flight either. In both cases, you're physically in another geographical location before you've had time to effect the transition in your head - including seeing the landscape change, which is the most important part of the journey anyway. If you're flying fifteen hundred miles on board an ATR, at least the size of the craft matches the length of your flight. Else, you're just sitting in an A320 at forty thousand feet above sea level, expecting to be able to get through eight chapters at least, and voila, you're already being asked to fasten your seatbelts for the landing. It confuses the brain. And don't even get me started on train journeys where you enter, stow away luggage, settle onto your berth for a nap, and wake up to a plaintive-sounding chaiwala telling your co-passenger that there's another fifteen minutes to go, and would they like adrak chai or plain?

Who would have known that the concept of inertia of motion would - in its own warped way - apply to Crossworder when she travelled? Physics, is this how you choose to get back at me for playing pen-and-paper scrabble instead of working at those numericals back in eleventh grade?

I do hope you realise it's a mean trick.

Lorem Ipsum

Slowly walking down the hall

Faster than a cannonball...

Some day you will find me caught beneath the landslide

In a champagne supernova in the sky...

I happened to look up as I entered the premises of my house today. There was a full moon visible through broad palm fronds. Beautiful. I remember thinking, about eight weeks ago, that the moon looked like a bowl of whipped cream. But it was a creamy white that night. Tonight, it's like a shiny new silver coin.

Nice life it has, the moon. I'd like to be the full moon for a day, somewhere near an ocean. And then, I'd like to be the moon over the highest hill in the Western Ghats. Sounds like a fun idea.

How many special people change

How many lives are living strange...

This is the perfect evening for a long walk. All alone.

Thinking Aloud - I

I'll be the first to admit that you have to have nothing to do - or so much to do that you do not know where to start, so end up doing nothing eventually - to think of things like these. I have a lot to do tonight and this week. I have had a lot to do in the last two months. But I can't help thinking about this fact of life, ergo, it has found its way to this page.

You know, when you're living a moment, that is all there is. It fills up your life. You don't really stop to think that in another second, this moment will become part of your past, never to be recovered except in reminiscence. You certainly do not stop to think that it is also becoming part of your future, but in a quiet, unobtrusive way. Like this moment. Here. Now.

Because if you had known that the moment could never be recovered, you would have been more careful, and more accepting of its ephemeral nature. More appreciative, maybe. Less scared, perhaps, or more honest.

For several moments in the year that has passed, I have the same wistful longing now. It's useless, I know. Nothing's going to bring them back, least of all more time spent wishing them back into the present. But if I had known that, countless times last year, I was living the kind of moment that would never repeat itself, I would probably have been more careful with it, handled it with greater care. Living life on a no-regrets basis is great...but one of the problems is, if you do stop to turn and look back, you run the risk of being overwhelmed by instances of what could have been. Oh, dear God. There I go again. I hate what-ifs. I've lived my entire life on the principle that I wouldn't  ever do anything that left room for a what-if. Everything would get the chance it deserved. Everything is worth a try. Sure, you fall and scrape a knee. But you also score one thing off the list of things you'd otherwise be wondering about at 84.

I'm sleepy and a little blue. I really don't know if the last ten sentences make any sense.

But I do know that if I had known I was living so many lasts last year, I'd probably have...I don't know. What would I probably have done? I do know I lived those moments off the top of my head, spontaneously, the only way I know...what would I have done differently? From that last visit in February to the last walk in April; from the last just-because trip in May to that last call; from that last journey in September to the last meeting in November...so many moments I wanted to grab with both hands and keep safe...all gone.

I'm getting bluer by the minute. I should probably turn in. Days have a way of behaving better once ended and begun afresh.