The crazy Indian Guy
If one was educated in India anytime between 1975 and now in an English medium boys college, they must have come across a majority of hard-rock lovers who were turned on by any man on stage with a guitar who could played three strings, head-banged until his legs drilled a humongous hole on stage and shouted like his mother was drowning in the ganges river. Now I know how Indians are sensitive about their heavy metal bands but has anybody ever heard of Pat Boone? If not, you are missing a huge album from your collection. When Pat Boone rocks he does it hard. And he knows how to rip every metal band like a butcher. Go figure out for yourself. This should be your motto of the day.
On a more “sane” level, I was trying to call up the Dell customer service to replace my cat-bitten, toy-treated adaptor which was ripped apart from the insulation. God alone knows how my cat’s whiskers weren’t on fire while she was biting the un-insulated wire while it was plugged in. Now wait, I know what you are thinking. we have all witnessed Dell’s insanity on the phone; especially when it comes to putting their customers on hold, giving us some in-house telephonic music and manufacturing accents that cater to 60 different countries around the world (These don’t include any of the African nations as they still reportedly use the Konrad Zuse’s Z1 computer of the 40’s, or Afghanistan – who’s main customers being Taliban, feel that Dell computers are too heavy to wrap around their waist and so prefer to use IBM ThinkPad’s instead to do their killer programming. Besides they hate Dell’s country music while they are put on hold, they prefer commiting suicides without ever having gone through that.)
We hate their accents and their fake names (I meant the dell customer service personnel). But surprisingly, I was done with my phone call in just one hour and fifteen minutes flat to replace an adaptor. In that time span, they made me listen to instrumental country music for 45 minutes, practiced their American accents, and gave me ideas to post on my blog, way to make my hold-time worthy. This is amazing development from the usual 3 hour phone conversation with any Dell rep for any sort of issue. The guy assisting me, called himself Pete, even asked me to have a cup of coffee while I was to be on hold. Another woman, Sara, "surprisingly" had a cheap American accent and took ten minutes to diagnose the problem while asking me 829 questions for an adaptor. Of course, I had to lie about why my adaptor was not working but still.
One piece of advice for those extending their warranty with Dell, make sure you try and squeeze out at least one new hardware component each year to make up for the warranty money and make sure you make your calls at night, so you don’t loose all that money you just made on paying your peak time cell phone bills. This is how customers might have to adapt in the new millennium in order to keep a balance in CEOs’ fat pay checks. Another piece of advice for Business process outsourcing executives, it’s not enough to just have a glamorous degree from a top-notch institution and arrive in a hippo of a limo to your bay facing glass office unless someone can put their nuts into practice i.e., satisfy customers. You don’t want to fuck this world up more than necessary. We have enough consultants, i-bankers and corporations that already do that. And quit giving your employees frat boy names for god-sake when they sound like Patels and Shahs. We hear enough Matts, Jons, Bens, Jakes, Brads, Daves, Toms, Mikes, Jims, and Bills in our daily lives (I think I have covered about 80% of first names among white American men)
Shew! So now that I have poured all my frustration to your eyes and have finally received my new adaptor, I now have the charge to write some more crap. On a completely different note, I have been meeting a lot of new people in Minnesota and I am actually taking a more positive approach at this whole moving into a fishing-hunting-farming country thing. Yes, they do have limited things to do, but they are not the worst people to hang out with. I have seen some psychopaths in Nevada and Utah who would rather light a fire up their ass and live in their trailer burning in their own ashes than come across an Indian guy in a highway gas station. I would even choose to watch a Tigers game in the middle of Detroit downtown than walk on the streets of Omaha, which reminds me of the Yankees. I can finally forget them for this season. They deserve it. Cumulative pay of all the Yankees’ players was higher than the sum of the Orioles’ and Tigers’ combined. They might save lives if they gave up the game and put it to some good use.
Anyway, Minnesotans are much nicer than that on the outside. Meeting all these people has been a blessing in disguise or I would go crazy as hell just watching TV and living with a cat. They make me laugh until my voice echoes the room like an operatic singer gone insane. They make me dance like a domestic dog that hasn’t seen his master in days. It makes a big difference to even do the craziest things with the craziest people. I have to live it up to everyone’s expectation or else I would be branded as one of those Desi Indian guys who is on the internet with his dual headset-microphones wrapped around his head all the time, chatting with his friends and family in his mother tongue whenever he gets free time at work (which is 80% of the time, 20% for lunch) as though he is in a town hall meeting where making noise is not a concern until he removes his head set to find an entire line of frustrated office crew lined up at his cube waiting to put an end to his career which is when he pleads that he would be deported from this country if they ever complained to his manager. So he moves his chatting venue to a coffee shop that offers free internet because he is too cheap to buy his own internet connection at home. Besides he has to deal with the Comcast customer service which is a whole new story in spanish.
The crazy Indian guy finally reaches a conclusion to all this mess. His strategy to dealing with customer service people, call centers and getting a social life is not to own or possess any electronic goods as all the Asian companies have transformed it from a niche market to a necessity. So that way, the crazy Indian can shake and shape his booty on the dance floor at the nearest club that is walkable and at least hope to get lucky. Or else he can only hope to spend the rest of his life on the phone, internet or watching TV while his virtual wife serves him samosas and chutney so his stinky ass gets only a quarter inch thicker ever month. But then the girl he dates realizes that he doesn’t own any techy gadgets unlike a stereotypical Indian guy finally dumps him within the first thirty five minutes of their meeting. He is now back to square one. Basically, I’m not that crazy Indian guy anymore.
I have met people of different combinations of races, sexes and castes to an extent that they don’t fall under a particular category. Seriously, one of my colleagues considers himself 25% irish, 10%african, 15% native American, 20% Swedish, 20% unknown. What category could you possibly put him under? Even his great grand parents had a tough time figuring that out. Not only that, there is a conflict as to whether 20% Swedish blood actually contained a significant percentage of Norwegian origin in it. So he calls himself American and when it comes to filling out applications to purchase a cell-phone and indicate his ethnicity he ticks every category there is possibly available except asian. That explains the theory that distance really matters when it comes to screwing around with someone of another ethnicity, if slavery wasn't in the equation.
There are other people I have met. These fall under the meat loving category. And these are not the usual meat eaters; they are the kinds who are proud to call themselves carnivores. They don’t care about the quality, just quantity. I mean they would literally have a hamburger by sandwiching two buns around a bison, shoot the bison and eat the damn thing before the bison has any moment to wake up. They also think that by eating a 5 pound steak, that was originally a grass-eating cow in its past life, they in-turn eat vegetables i.e., grass. What could one say about eating pigs then? That’s why muslims and jews were clever right from the start, unfortunately they don’t get along. These people hated me when I took them to Udipi, which serves only Indian vegetarian meals. Again, the point is I am not the same crazy Indian guy anymore. We’ve established that fact to a satisfactory level for tonight. So goodnight and good luck.
On a more “sane” level, I was trying to call up the Dell customer service to replace my cat-bitten, toy-treated adaptor which was ripped apart from the insulation. God alone knows how my cat’s whiskers weren’t on fire while she was biting the un-insulated wire while it was plugged in. Now wait, I know what you are thinking. we have all witnessed Dell’s insanity on the phone; especially when it comes to putting their customers on hold, giving us some in-house telephonic music and manufacturing accents that cater to 60 different countries around the world (These don’t include any of the African nations as they still reportedly use the Konrad Zuse’s Z1 computer of the 40’s, or Afghanistan – who’s main customers being Taliban, feel that Dell computers are too heavy to wrap around their waist and so prefer to use IBM ThinkPad’s instead to do their killer programming. Besides they hate Dell’s country music while they are put on hold, they prefer commiting suicides without ever having gone through that.)
We hate their accents and their fake names (I meant the dell customer service personnel). But surprisingly, I was done with my phone call in just one hour and fifteen minutes flat to replace an adaptor. In that time span, they made me listen to instrumental country music for 45 minutes, practiced their American accents, and gave me ideas to post on my blog, way to make my hold-time worthy. This is amazing development from the usual 3 hour phone conversation with any Dell rep for any sort of issue. The guy assisting me, called himself Pete, even asked me to have a cup of coffee while I was to be on hold. Another woman, Sara, "surprisingly" had a cheap American accent and took ten minutes to diagnose the problem while asking me 829 questions for an adaptor. Of course, I had to lie about why my adaptor was not working but still.
One piece of advice for those extending their warranty with Dell, make sure you try and squeeze out at least one new hardware component each year to make up for the warranty money and make sure you make your calls at night, so you don’t loose all that money you just made on paying your peak time cell phone bills. This is how customers might have to adapt in the new millennium in order to keep a balance in CEOs’ fat pay checks. Another piece of advice for Business process outsourcing executives, it’s not enough to just have a glamorous degree from a top-notch institution and arrive in a hippo of a limo to your bay facing glass office unless someone can put their nuts into practice i.e., satisfy customers. You don’t want to fuck this world up more than necessary. We have enough consultants, i-bankers and corporations that already do that. And quit giving your employees frat boy names for god-sake when they sound like Patels and Shahs. We hear enough Matts, Jons, Bens, Jakes, Brads, Daves, Toms, Mikes, Jims, and Bills in our daily lives (I think I have covered about 80% of first names among white American men)
Shew! So now that I have poured all my frustration to your eyes and have finally received my new adaptor, I now have the charge to write some more crap. On a completely different note, I have been meeting a lot of new people in Minnesota and I am actually taking a more positive approach at this whole moving into a fishing-hunting-farming country thing. Yes, they do have limited things to do, but they are not the worst people to hang out with. I have seen some psychopaths in Nevada and Utah who would rather light a fire up their ass and live in their trailer burning in their own ashes than come across an Indian guy in a highway gas station. I would even choose to watch a Tigers game in the middle of Detroit downtown than walk on the streets of Omaha, which reminds me of the Yankees. I can finally forget them for this season. They deserve it. Cumulative pay of all the Yankees’ players was higher than the sum of the Orioles’ and Tigers’ combined. They might save lives if they gave up the game and put it to some good use.
Anyway, Minnesotans are much nicer than that on the outside. Meeting all these people has been a blessing in disguise or I would go crazy as hell just watching TV and living with a cat. They make me laugh until my voice echoes the room like an operatic singer gone insane. They make me dance like a domestic dog that hasn’t seen his master in days. It makes a big difference to even do the craziest things with the craziest people. I have to live it up to everyone’s expectation or else I would be branded as one of those Desi Indian guys who is on the internet with his dual headset-microphones wrapped around his head all the time, chatting with his friends and family in his mother tongue whenever he gets free time at work (which is 80% of the time, 20% for lunch) as though he is in a town hall meeting where making noise is not a concern until he removes his head set to find an entire line of frustrated office crew lined up at his cube waiting to put an end to his career which is when he pleads that he would be deported from this country if they ever complained to his manager. So he moves his chatting venue to a coffee shop that offers free internet because he is too cheap to buy his own internet connection at home. Besides he has to deal with the Comcast customer service which is a whole new story in spanish.
The crazy Indian guy finally reaches a conclusion to all this mess. His strategy to dealing with customer service people, call centers and getting a social life is not to own or possess any electronic goods as all the Asian companies have transformed it from a niche market to a necessity. So that way, the crazy Indian can shake and shape his booty on the dance floor at the nearest club that is walkable and at least hope to get lucky. Or else he can only hope to spend the rest of his life on the phone, internet or watching TV while his virtual wife serves him samosas and chutney so his stinky ass gets only a quarter inch thicker ever month. But then the girl he dates realizes that he doesn’t own any techy gadgets unlike a stereotypical Indian guy finally dumps him within the first thirty five minutes of their meeting. He is now back to square one. Basically, I’m not that crazy Indian guy anymore.
I have met people of different combinations of races, sexes and castes to an extent that they don’t fall under a particular category. Seriously, one of my colleagues considers himself 25% irish, 10%african, 15% native American, 20% Swedish, 20% unknown. What category could you possibly put him under? Even his great grand parents had a tough time figuring that out. Not only that, there is a conflict as to whether 20% Swedish blood actually contained a significant percentage of Norwegian origin in it. So he calls himself American and when it comes to filling out applications to purchase a cell-phone and indicate his ethnicity he ticks every category there is possibly available except asian. That explains the theory that distance really matters when it comes to screwing around with someone of another ethnicity, if slavery wasn't in the equation.
There are other people I have met. These fall under the meat loving category. And these are not the usual meat eaters; they are the kinds who are proud to call themselves carnivores. They don’t care about the quality, just quantity. I mean they would literally have a hamburger by sandwiching two buns around a bison, shoot the bison and eat the damn thing before the bison has any moment to wake up. They also think that by eating a 5 pound steak, that was originally a grass-eating cow in its past life, they in-turn eat vegetables i.e., grass. What could one say about eating pigs then? That’s why muslims and jews were clever right from the start, unfortunately they don’t get along. These people hated me when I took them to Udipi, which serves only Indian vegetarian meals. Again, the point is I am not the same crazy Indian guy anymore. We’ve established that fact to a satisfactory level for tonight. So goodnight and good luck.
posted by Mt. Heaven at 10:41 PM
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