Change the Story

Below are two stories about Naveen’s six hour long flight from New York to Seattle.

Story 1:

Naveen shifted in his aisle seat. He wondered why airplanes had such cramped seats. His legs were too long for the narrow space. He felt stiff.

He glanced to his left. An enormous bulk of a middle-aged lady slumped in the next seat. Flesh dangled along her wide arms. Her body bulged outward like an inflated balloon. Naveen found himself being pushed towards the edge of his seat.

“Great, just fucking great.” Naveen muttered under his breath. How did these people get so huge? Were they just too lazy to exercise and too dumb to pay attention to their diet?

Naveen rang the bell for the air-hostess. The fat lady snored loudly in her sleep. He shook his head. Five minutes passed and still no sign of the air-hostess. He pushed the bell again. He craned his neck and saw the air-hostess approaching in her blue uniform with the tight skirt. She didn’t have the legs to pull off that skirt.

“Yes, sir?” She smiled at him. It was a fake smile.

“Can I get an orange juice?” Naveen demanded.

“Sure.” She nodded. “I’ll be back.”

Five minutes later, she still hadn’t returned. Naveen gritted his teeth.

Finally, she re-appeared. “Here’s your orange juice, sir.”

“What took you so long?” Naveen grabbed the glass. “The service on this flight is slow.”

“I’m very sorry, sir. We have a full flight. I had lots of passenger requests.” She smiled.

Naveen waved her off. He checked his watch. Still four hours to go. How was he going to get through this agonizing flight?

An hour before landing, Naveen twisted about, cranky as ever. The captain warned them of turbulence ahead. Naveen gripped the side of his seat. The plane swayed as it passed through the air pocket. He felt his body bumped off the seat for a moment.

What a disaster this flight had been. They didn’t even get the aircraft to fly smoothly. Maybe this was a sign of things to come. Maybe his new job would be full of turbulence and turmoil. Maybe his new colleagues would be dumb or non-responsive like the air-hostess. Maybe the whole thing was a mistake.

****

Story 2:

Naveen shifted in his aisle seat. His stretched his legs out as far as he could and made himself comfortable. He felt lucky to have gotten the aisle seat.

He glanced to his left. The lady next to him suffered from obesity. It had become an epidemic in America. He knew she was fighting a tough battle. He silently wished her luck.

He rang the bell for the air-hostess. The lady next to him snored loudly in her sleep. Naveen smiled. At least she managed to sleep so peacefully. Good for her.

Five minutes later, the air-hostess appeared in her blue uniform. She managed to look dignified in her skirt.

“Yes, sir?” She smiled at him. Naveen marveled at her ability to always be so cheerful.

“Can I get an orange juice, please?” He asked.

“Sure.” She nodded. “I’ll be back.”

She re-appeared, a little over five minutes later. “Here’s your orange juice, sir.”

Naveen gave her a big smile. “Thank you.” She was doing a good job, despite having to rush back and forth to respond to the demands of a full flight of passengers.

He checked his watch. Four hours to go. That would be enough time to catch up on a couple of movies he had missed. He relaxed and leaned back.

An hour before landing, the captain warned them of turbulence ahead. Naveen grinned in anticipation. The plane swayed as it passed through the air pocket. He felt his body bumped off the seat for a moment. This was like a bonus roller-coaster ride, no extra charge.

What a fun flight it had been. Maybe this was a sign of things to come. Maybe his new job would be challenging and exciting. Maybe his new colleagues would be friendly like the air-hostess and fun to work with. Maybe he was about to start an amazing phase of life.

****

I’m sure you have observed that exactly the same events happen in both the stories. Yet, the two stories sound so different.

It’s not the situation that matters; it’s our reaction to it. Our perception creates our reality. To alter this reality, we must simply change our perception.

In the first story, the annoyance, anger and apprehension that Naveen felt were real. In the second story, the empathy, wonder and excitement that Naveen felt were just as real. Even though the circumstances were the same, they could be experienced in different ways. All Naveen did was change the story he told himself, and he experienced an alternate reality.

In our daily lives, we constantly react to events. Whether we are aware of this or not, we tell ourselves stories about the situation around us.

Consider the following examples of stories we tell ourselves.

We miss the train to work. We tell ourselves “Damn it. Why can’t the train be delayed the one time I want it to be? Otherwise, it’s delayed so often. Now, I’ll be late for the meeting. Waiting at this platform is such a waste of time.”

The boss at work always gives us the difficult projects. We tell ourselves “My boss deliberately gives me all the hard assignments. He doesn’t even come around to see how I’m doing, like he does with the others. He doesn’t give a damn about me. He just uses me for all the dirty work.”

Our good friend doesn’t respond to our phone call. We tell ourselves “He is always too busy to pick up my calls. Just because he earns more money, he thinks that he is better than me. What an arrogant prick.”

Now, let’s change these stories we tell ourselves, keeping the situations the same.

We miss the train to work. We tell ourselves “Now that the crowd has gone in this train, the next one might be half vacant. I’ll probably get a place to sit. I have ten extra minutes to read my email and plan what I’m going to talk about in the meeting.”

The boss at work always gives us the difficult projects. We tell ourselves “The most challenging work normally goes to the most competent person. My boss thinks I’m capable of handling the tough projects. In fact, he trusts me so much that he doesn’t need to check up on me like he does with the others. I’m lucky to have earned his respect and trust.”

Our good friend doesn’t respond to our phone call. We tell ourselves “He has been working very hard. He will surely get promoted next month. I’ll be so happy for him. Then, our group of friends can get together and celebrate. It will be so much fun. I wish him good luck.”

If you find yourself reacting negatively to any situation, remember that the reality you are experiencing is only one of the possible realities. To change your experience, change the story you tell yourself.

Be Practical

My cousin Bharat studies at the same law college his father went to. He hates it. He loves to draw. His desk drawers are full of sketches depicting people, actions, scenery. Whenever he gets time away from his voluminous law textbooks, which frankly seem more suitable to be used as dumbbells to build biceps, he takes his pencils and pad and lets his imagination run wild.

I’ve seen Bharat draw. His eyes light up, his complexion changes, he becomes lost in his work, oblivious of the world around him.

In his second year as a law student, he narrowly passed the exams. His mother saw the results and went berserk.

“What is this, ha Bharat? What are these results?” She shrieked.

Bharat sat down. He made no attempt to reply.

“Is this why we paid so much money for your college, ha? Tell me?” She flung the result sheet at him. No words came out of his mouth.

“What will people think of you? Are your friends nearly failing too? Are you in some bad company? Say something.” She moved closer and raised her voice to a fever pitch.

“I’m not in bad company, mom.” Bharat’s voice was just above a whisper.

“Then, what is it?” She shouted in his face. “What’s your problem?”

“I don’t like law, mom.” Bharat whimpered. “I just don’t understand it. I like to draw.”

“Draw? These drawings are all rubbish.”

“But mom...”

“No buts. You have to buck up and study harder. I don’t want to see results like this ever again from you. Do you understand?”

Bharat took a deep breath. “Mom, there are colleges that have drawing classes. If I can...”

“Stop that nonsense. Bharat, why can’t you understand that you need to have a real career and get a proper job after college? You can draw for fun, but you have to concentrate on your studies, okay? You have to be practical.”

Bharat was left desolate, resigned to law books that seemed like Greek to him and a course curriculum that he couldn’t make head or tail of.

When I learned of my cousin’s dilemma, I was appalled. But, Bharat’s case is far from unique. Majority of students in colleges are there because they think they need a proper job, or because it is what their parents did.

I have always disliked the expression ‘Be Practical’.

What if Leonardo Da Vinci and Pablo Picasso had been told to stop their useless painting and be practical? What if Roger Federer and Sachin Tendulkar had been told to stop wasting their time playing sports and get a real job? What if John Lennon and R.D. Burman had been told to stop making music and concentrate on their studies? What a loss it would have been to the world if these legends had not pursued their passions.

But no, we must Be Practical, right? We must get a real career, a real job.

When I hear about cases like Bharat’s, I get the image of a horse being held back by the reins and directed where to ride, when the horse just wants to run wild and free into the meadows with no pre-ordained destination. Just like Bharat is held back by the reins of practicality when all he wants to do is to draw and have fun.

Why can’t we let the reins go? Why can’t we let people like Bharat be free to do what they enjoy? Why can’t we let ourselves be free to follow our own passion?

When people say ‘Be Practical’, what they mean is ‘Earn Money’, isn’t it? Is the sole purpose of our life to create and accumulate wealth?

I think it is an unreasonable requirement that society imposes on us to earn money. What is money anyways? It’s not even a real thing. It’s not a virtue of a human being like courage or compassion. In the history of mankind, money is a recent invention. Only few thousands of years ago did men print some numbers on paper and call it money. Before money existed, people exchanged goods and offered a service of value to others in return for what they needed.

Maybe we can aspire to do the same thing. Maybe we can offer something of value to the world. To produce anything of value, we must do what we enjoy doing.

If we follow the trail of money, we will be slaves forever. We will do whatever money demands, not what we want to. All our decisions will be dictated by financial considerations. We will be trapped in a prison that we cannot see or touch, a prison for our minds.

Investment advisors often use this term ‘financial freedom’. What they mean is that they will manage our money efficiently so that we will be able to buy what we want. By making sound investments, they will provide us with financial freedom. Meaning we won’t have to worry about money anymore. Money will be out of the equation.

The problem with this promise is that when people can buy what they want, like a house or a car, they want more such things. They get sucked into this vortex and never come out. No amount of money is enough money. There is always a hunger for more. This continues in a lifelong, elusive quest that people get stuck on.

There is a more direct path to financial freedom. Just stop worrying about money. Take money out of the equation. Grant yourself the freedom to do what your heart tells you.

I’m under no illusion. I know this is no easy ride. We have to overcome our inner self-doubt and fear of an uncertain future. We have to face a parade of voices of our friends and family that chant ‘Be Practical, Be Practical, Don’t be foolish, Be Practical.’

It will take courage. We have to let go off our own attachments and fears, get past the chants of society. Once we do this, we will experience a sense of freedom and lightness. With the shackles of dogma removed, we will be free at last to find our passions and fulfill our unrealized potential. Renowned mythologist Joseph Campbell said ‘Follow your bliss and doors will open where previously there were only walls’

When King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table went after the Holy Grail, they decided to split up. Each Knight would enter the forest at a point that he himself had chosen, a point where there was no path. If there was a path, then it was somebody else’s path.

This is our life. We must create our own paths, not walk on the well-trodden ones. We must trust that it will all work out. We will produce something of value, and success will follow. Yes, this takes a leap of faith. But once we make that jump, we will not look back.

I dislike the principle of ‘Be Practical’ so much that if I ever do something that everyone thinks is ‘not practical’ then I feel delighted. Then I know that I’m on the right track, doing something of my own free will that disregards the dark forces of practicality.

When I’m seventy years old and I look back on my life, if I find that I never did anything considered not practical, I will be bitterly disappointed. If I only did reasonable and acceptable things, then I didn’t do much.

What about you? Are you resigned to the banal existence of a practical life? Have you done anything in tune with your heart’s desires? Your time in this world is limited. Now is the time to set yourself free and follow your passion. Now or never.

Practice Happiness

Vivek shoved open the front door to his home. His head hung low, his shoulders drooped. His body was dripping wet from head to toe. It had been the worst imaginable day. First, he had been fired from his job. By afternoon, his things were packed up and he had been escorted out of the building in shame. To make matters worse, he found his car had been stolen. After reporting the theft, he started to walk home when the clouds burst open and unleashed a rain storm. As his body got drenched, his mind was consumed with a relentless swirl of painful emotions. He felt sick in the pit of his stomach.

As he stepped inside the living room, Tanya, his ten-year old niece ran up to him. She smiled gleefully and hugged his leg.

She looked up at him with soft eyes, “Will you play with me?”

Now, this is Vivek’s test, his moment of truth. Will he shoo his niece away, go to his room and continue to stay upset about his disastrous day? Or will he, despite his personal crisis, return Tanya’s hug and smile, and spend time playing with her?

Each of us faces similar tests every day. This example introduces the premise of this piece, which is about the art of practicing happiness. Anyone can be happy when things are going well, but it is an art form to be happy when circumstances are not the way we wish them to be.

Think about all the things you want in life. It may be to have a fulfilling career, to earn a lot of money, to find a perfect relationship, to keep a healthy body, and so on. If we examine these goals more closely, we will see that we want these things because we believe they will make us happy. Thus, happiness is the goal of all goals, the thing that underlies all our other desires. Everything we do revolves around the pursuit of happiness. The career, the money, the relationships, the health are all ways we think will lead us to happiness.

So, if we agree that happiness is the central goal that drives us all, then the question arises what is happiness and how do we get it? Most people equate happiness with feeling good. In our daily life, our emotions are driven by events that happen. If we get that job offer, we feel excited, otherwise we feel disappointed. If our dream girl says yes to us, we feel delighted, but if the response is negative, then we feel dejected. This sort of conditional happiness is circumstantial and fleeting. Even if we get exactly what we wanted, we only feel good for a while and then the feeling passes. It is an elusive, never-ending pleasure-seeking quest that we get stuck on.

I would like to suggest that happiness is not merely feeling good based on some circumstance that is transient. Happiness is the ability developed over time to radiate positive energy regardless of our external circumstances or internal emotions. It is a skill that we can train ourselves to develop.

I once attended a talk given by a spiritual master. During the Q & A session at the end, I asked him this: How do we make ourselves happy when everything is going wrong and we feel sad or angry inside?

His answer was simple: We cannot force ourselves to feel happy at any time. Feelings change all the time and are not under our direct control. The only thing in our control is our actions. We cannot will ourselves to feel happy, but we can will ourselves to smile, to laugh, to act happy. Research shows that when people are happy, they smile and laugh a lot, which is obvious. But, research also shows that when people smile and laugh a lot, they become happy. We must act happy and the feeling will follow.

This isn’t to say that we should deny or suppress our feelings. We should fully acknowledge what emotional states we are experiencing. Then, we should let these feelings be, and radiate positive energy anyways. Much like the soldier acts courageous as he picks up his fallen comrade and carries him across the battlefield, despite feeling terrified inside. Much like the shy young boy walks across the dance floor and acts confident as he asks a girl to dance, despite feeling nervous inside.

In the opening example, Vivek can hug and play with Tanya, while still being aware of his disappointment at losing his job and his car. He can take the necessary actions to get a new job and subsequently a new car later. But at that moment, he can still act as though he is happy, despite his emotions. This is the only unconditional, lasting happiness that is fully within our capacity to achieve.

This ability to act happy, to radiate positive energy can be difficult at times. Just like any other skill, like swimming or driving or cooking, it takes time and practice to learn. We can start to practice happiness by a simple exercise: At random times during the day, stop and ask yourself: Am I radiating positive energy? Take a few deep breaths and slow things down. Acknowledge your current thoughts and emotions. Let go of them. Then, act happy. Smile. Laugh, if you can think of something funny. Better yet, make others laugh with you.

The best thing about happiness is that it is contagious. When we smile and laugh, others around us tend to get infected and join in. Happiness passes from person to person more rapidly than any other condition.

To act happy is to do whatever it is that we would do if we were feeling happy. Smiling and laughing are two common behaviors. Other behaviors to indicate happiness include singing a song, or dancing or eating or playing or talking non-stop. To practice happiness, we must behave in a manner as if we were happy, after being aware of what we feel at that moment.

For me, the best way to practice happiness is to develop a sense of humor. I think that all living beings no matter how big or small, good-looking or ugly, intelligent or dumb, basically just want to laugh. When people laugh, they are closest to their natural selves. A person who has the ability to laugh at anything, especially at himself, never ceases to be amused. When we watch comedy movies and the protagonists get into all kinds of sticky situations, we find it funny. We would benefit a lot if we manage to look at our own lives as just a movie. And when trouble comes, we should see the funny side, and laugh at ourselves and at the situation we find ourselves in. I believe laughter is the key that unlocks the door to happiness.

Another way to think about this is say you knew that you had a terminal illness and had little time left to live. Would you waste precious time feeling angry or sad or would you enjoy what time you have left? Well, the fact is that you do have a terminal condition. We all do. It’s called birth. And we have limited time left in this world. We must enjoy every moment of it.

Happiness is a moment-to-moment practice. Life is a series of moments. At every moment, we have the potential to radiate positive energy into the world. Happiness is not something we get from life, but something we bring to life. So, be happy now, without reason.

The Airport Interview

“Jack, this is where we first met.” Kate Winslet reminded Leonardo Di Caprio soon after their ship had crashed into an iceberg, up on the large projector screen. Jatin watched with rapt attention, even though he had seen Titanic twice before. An empty classroom with a projector at the university campus was a great place for an evening movie.

His friend, Swati, glanced across. “I can’t believe you like these cheesy love stories.”

He didn’t respond. His eyes stayed riveted on the screen, as the protagonists struggled through waves of water on board their ship.

Swati nudged him. “You’re a bit of a girl, you know that Jatin?”

“Yeah whatever,” He said. “And you’re a bit of a boy. Now, watch the movie.”

“C’mon, you know what happens. It’s Titanic. The ship sinks.” She rebuked.

He nodded, hoping she would shut up.

“What time is your flight?” She showed no inclination to stay quiet.

“Ha? It’s at eleven thirty or something.”

“It’s already nine. Shouldn’t you be leaving?”

“Yeah, after the movie.”

Swati shook her head. “You and your stupid movie. You have a big interview with Mckinsey, and you’re sitting and drooling over Kate Winslet. Have you at least packed?”

“Yeah, I’m done packing. I borrowed your suitcase, remember? I left it at your place before coming here.”

“Right,” She said. “I’m hungry, I’m going to eat. You watch your movie. My roommate will be home, so you can take the bag when you leave.”

He nodded, still looking at the screen.

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, good luck with the interview.”

Jatin saw the rest of the movie in peace. When it was over, he yawned, stretched himself and turned off the projector. He checked his watch. It was nearly ten.

“Fuck.” He muttered. He dashed out of the building, and jogged along the icy road. They were into their fourth semester of graduate studies at the University of Pittsburg. By then, Jatin knew most of the campus roads well. Within few minutes, he was at Swati’s house.

He didn’t waste time making polite conversation with the roommate, Rachna, who had an annoying, high-pitched voice. He rang the doorbell, said he was there for Swati’s bag, grabbed the black suitcase on the living room floor and fled.

Half an hour later, he stood in the security check line at the airport, boarding pass in hand. Fifty minutes left for his flight. He put on his iPod.

“I have become…comfortably numb” He hummed the lyrics. Soon, he reached the front of the line. He frowned, having to interrupt his favorite song to put the iPod along with his suitcase through the scanner.

“Where you flying to?” A voice asked.

Jatin stared at the scanner belt, awaiting his iPod, eager to resume his song.

“Excuse me.” A voice called. He looked up.

“Yes, you. Please step aside.” The man in front of him wore a crimson uniform. He stood six-feet tall, the same height as Jatin. However unlike Jatin’s lean frame, his mid-section revealed a bulging beer-belly. The majority of his face was covered with a thick beard. Jatin followed him to a small table on which he saw his suitcase.

“Where you going?” The man asked.

“Chicago.”

“What’s your name?”

“Jatin.”

“Justin?”

“No, it’s Jatin.”

The officer glared at him, stroking his beard. “This is a random security check. Please lift your arms up.”

Jatin obeyed. The officer groped his body from top to bottom. His hands felt rough as though they had been used for years of manual labor.

Satisfied, the officer stepped back. “Have you packed this bag yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Are you carrying any items from anyone else?”

“No.”

“Okay, what’s in this bag?”

Jatin put a hand on his chin. “Umm…A laptop…”

“Which brand?”

“Dell.” Jatin paused. “Also, some clothes…”

“What clothes? Be specific about everything.”

“A black suit for my interview, a couple of t-shirts, jeans, socks and underwear.”
Jatin looked at the officer, who stared back at him, without blinking. “Then, I have some chocolate cookies, and a Computer Networks book. That’s about it.”

The officer continued to gaze at him. “Nothing else?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“No perfumes or make-up?”

Jatin raised his eyebrows. “Make-up? No.”

The officer folded his arms. “Almost everything you identified is wrong.”

“Ha? What?”

“This bag is filled with women’s clothes. There are some tops, jeans, bras. There are perfumes, lipsticks and other make-up stuff. There is a book, but it’s a Stephen King novel. There is a laptop, but it’s a Toshiba.”

Jatin felt as though his ship had crashed into an iceberg. Waves flooded all around him. He places his hand on the table to keep balanced.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Justin?” The officer opened the suitcase and displayed the items.

Jatin stared at the clothes, the lipsticks, the variety of perfumes. A fruity scent emanated from the suitcase. Only a girl’s bag could have such an aroma.

“I…umm….this is…” He searched for words.

“What kind of scam are you pulling?” The officer asked.

“No scam, sir. Really.” Jatin said. “I don’t know where all this stuff came from.” He looked at the contents again, and rubbed his eyes. The silver Toshiba laptop came into focus.

“Aha,” He snapped his fingers. “Swati’s roommate.”

“What the hell are you jabbering about?” The officer demanded.

“I think I accidentally picked up someone else’s bag.” Jatin explained. “I had borrowed this bag from a friend, but I think her roommate has a similar black suitcase.”

“Do you expect me to believe this bullshit?” The officer had a half-smile.

“It’s true. I can call her up right now.” Jatin said. “You can talk to her, if you like.”

After more debate, the officer consulted his peers, and decided that the girl whose bag Jatin claimed it was, should come to the airport and identify those belongings as hers. Only then would they let him go.

He called Swati first, and took her roommate’s number.

“Hello?” A sleepy voice answered after seven rings.

“Is that Rachna? This is Jatin, Swati’s friend. I had come by earlier to take a suitcase. Actually, I think I took your suitcase by mistake.” He became aware that he was talking at the speed of light.

“Ha? Are you drunk or something?”

“No, I’m not drunk, I’m serious. I need you to come to the airport to identify your stuff.”

“Airport? Look, I don’t time for this. I have an early morning class. I’m going back to sleep.” There was a click and the line went dead.

“Fuck.” Jatin cursed. He hit redial on his phone.

This time, there were nine rings. “What?”

“Listen, Rachna, its Jatin again. I really need your help. Please listen.”

He heard nothing in response, so he went on. “If you check your living room, you will see that Swati’s suitcase will still be there and yours will be missing.”

“Hold on.” Rachna went away for a minute. “You’re right. I had packed for my weekend trip. Where did you run away with my suitcase?”

“To the airport. I thought it was Swati’s.”

“What an idiot. My bag is Delsey, and hers is American Tourister.” Her voice rose to a shriek. Jatin had to move the phone away from his ear.

“Umm…they were both black…I’m sorry.”

“I can’t believe this…”

“Listen, it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. I have been detained at security. Please can you reach the airport to identify your bag and your things?”

She let out a long breath. “Fine.”

“Thanks, please hurry. Also, can you bring along Swati’s suitcase?”

The line went dead.

“Fuck.” Jatin said again. Damn that Rachna. He hoped she would bring the bag. What kind of person packed her suitcase by Wednesday for a weekend trip? He shook his head. He checked his watch and found that there was half an hour to go for his flight’s departure. He paced up and down.

Twenty long minutes later, Rachna arrived at the security line. Jatin breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her carrying a black American Tourister bag. Her eyes widened when she saw her clothes spread on the table. She scowled at him.

“Can you show me some ID?” The officer demanded. She obliged.

“Now, look at all this and identify if it’s yours.”

She looked through the contents. “It’s all mine.”

Several more questions followed. After what seemed like an eternity, the officer relented. “Next time, bring your own damn bag.” He waved Jatin off.

Rachna collected her bag, and rushed off.

“Hey Rachna,” Jatin called after her. “Thanks for coming here. And sorry again.”

“I’ll be late for my morning class now.” She shouted, without looking back.

Jatin scrambled to his gate. Five minutes past flight time. He looked around. The area was deserted. There were no passengers. He went to the lady at the counter.

“What happened to the flight to Chicago?”

“Oh yes, the flight to Chicago.” The lady smiled. “It’s gone. We had an early departure.”

“Early departure? What kind of airline is this?” He clenched his fist. Why couldn’t he get a delayed flight, like in a normal airline?

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. I guess I missed it. Can you get me on another flight?”

She tapped some keys in front of a computer screen. “The next flight is at four. But it goes via New York, with a two hour layover. It will reach Chicago by nine tomorrow morning.”

“Nothing that reaches before that?” His interview was scheduled at nine thirty.

“No, that’s the best we can do.”

“Fine, I’ll take it then.”

He reached New York without further incident. The JFK airport teemed with people who rushed from one gate to another. He decided to take a nap. When he woke, he had no idea how long he had slept.

“Delayed again, damn it.” The man sitting in front of him said.

Jatin looked up at the digital display above the gate. His flight to Chicago had been delayed by five hours. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He stood up. “What’s going on? Why is it delayed?”

The man seated there smiled. “Look outside the window.”

Jatin swiveled around. He was greeted by a sea of white snow. It covered the planes, the ground below and everything else in sight. Soft white snowflakes poured down nonstop at oblique angles. He let out a low whistle.

“It’s a blizzard. No planes can take off.” The man said.

“Fuck.” Jatin said, for the umpteenth time in the last twelve hours. He called his contact at Mckinsey, and explained the situation. Ten minutes later, she called him back and said that the people who were scheduled to interview him weren’t available later. She suggested that he could do a phone interview. Reluctantly, he agreed and so it was setup for an hour later.

He selected a seat, as isolated as he could find, and put his bag down. He stood up and walked around in circle. A phone interview, he could have done from the comfort of his room. But now his job prospects at the country’s top consulting firm would be decided at the crowded JFK terminal.

An hour later, he planted himself down in the chair. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. He picked up the phone and called Mckinsey.

“Hello, I’m calling about my phone interview.”

“Yes, Justin, you’re early. We were about to call you. I’ll patch you through to your interviewer.”

Did she call him Justin? The security officer at Pittsburg had called him that. He dismissed the thought. How little had he slept? While he waited, he took a bottle of water and splashed some on his face.

“Hello, how are you doing?” A voice came on the line.

“I’m doing good, thanks.” His voice felt hoarse.

“You have a very impressive resume.”

“Yes…yes, thanks.” Jatin wondered which lines on his resume could have been classified as impressive.

“I see you have lots of experience in database design.”

“Okay.” He conceded. Did one class project count as ‘lots of experience’?

“So, you designed a scalable, distributed database. What kind of caching mechanisms did you use to ensure optimal performance?”

Jatin took a gulp of water. He scratched his head. He could only recall building a simple three-table database in his project. He had just googled some examples and modified them.

“Hello, are you there?” The voice asked.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“So, tell me what techniques did you use?”

“Umm…I just used SQL.” Jatin slapped his forehead. Stop saying obvious things.

“SQL? Yes, but I asked about the caching mechanism.”

“Err…umm…I can’t remember.”

“Okay, let’s move on. So, for the image processing software that you built, what algorithm did you use for face detection?”

Jatin removed his handkerchief and mopped his brow. He had dropped in on a Computer Graphics class and submitted one assignment, but nothing noteworthy. Could he have put this on his resume?

“Umm…face detection, yes….umm…I used the Kramer-Gellar algorithm.” The career counselor at his university had advised to always appear confident during interviews even when you have no idea what the answer is.

“Kramer-Gellar? I’m not familiar with that one.”

Jatin wasn’t familiar with it either, considering that he had just put together two names from his favorite television shows. “Umm…yes, it’s a new algorithm by two scientists in Norway.”

On the other side of the call, he heard a pencil scribble away on paper.

“Okay, so for the Network Intrusion Detection System that you architected, how did you guard against buffer overflow attacks?”

Jatin swallowed. He couldn’t remember having taken a Network Security class. “Can you repeat the question?”

“Yes, I asked about the Intrusion Detection. Can you talk about more that?”

“Fuck.” Jatin whispered under his breath. This interview had become a massacre.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, I’m sorry I am unable to hear clearly. There’s a lot of disturbance.” Jatin played a heavy metal song on his iPod and held the speaker close to the phone.

The interviewer raised his voice. “I asked about the Intrusion Detecti..”

Jatin increased the volume. “I still can’t hear.”

“The software for Intrusion Detection...”

Jatin’s face was covered in perspiration. His right foot shook back and forth. Suddenly, he pressed the red button on his phone and ended the call.

“Fuck.” He shouted out loud. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He had prepared his resume two months back and couldn’t recall what kind of crap he had put on it.

His phone rang again. It was from Mckinsey.

With an unsteady hand, he answered the call. “He...Hello.”

“Hello, we are calling from Mckinsey with reference to a phone interview that was in progress. Can we resume the interview?”

“Alright...fine…go ahead.” Jatin said it as though someone had asked him for his left kidney.

The same interviewer came on the line. “Hello Justin, I’m sorry we got cut off. Now, what was I saying?”

Justin? Did he say Justin? This time he felt sure he had heard Justin.

“Excuse me, did you say Justin?”

“Yes.”

“Who is Justin?”

“What?” There was a pause at the other end. “Well, you are Justin, Justin Jones.”

“Really?”

“That’s what I have here. Justin Jones, PhD from Stanford, worked for three years at Oracle and four years at Microsoft.”

Jatin skipped up and clutched his hair. “What? I…umm…I never did all that..actually, my name is Jatin.”


“Jatin?” A sound of papers being ruffled. “Jatin you said? Well, who are you?”

“Ha? I’m a Master’s student at University of Pittsburg, applying for a junior consultant.”

“Hold on.” There was silence at the other end. Five minutes later, he came back on.

“There seems to be a misunderstanding. I was to interview a Justin Jones at the same time that you called up. The recruiter thought that you were Justin and patched you through.”

“Oh okay.” Jatin sat down and exhaled. “Actually, I had an interview scheduled today, but I’m stuck at New York airport.”

“Yes, I’m sorry about this. Your interview will be rescheduled next week.”

“Next week? But I’m already at New York, I have a flight to Chicago.”

“Yes, I’m very sorry for the inconvenience. Our company will pay for your flight back to Pittsburg of course. Also, to compensate, we will fly you down business class next week. The recruiter will call you with the details.”

“Okay.” Jatin said. It had been that kind of day.

“By the way, is there a Kramer-Gellar algorithm?”

“Umm…no, not really.” Jatin allowed himself a smile.

“Right.” And the line went dead.

The next day, Jatin was back at the University campus, narrating his experience to Swati, who couldn’t stop giggling. By the time he had finished the story, she rolled on the floor with laughter.

Swati looked at him. “You know what your new nick name will be, right?”

“Yeah.” Jatin stood and made his hands appear like a gun in a mock James Bond pose. “My name’s Jones, Justin Jones.”