Monday, November 30, 2009

That Queasy Feeling

The drone is relentless. There is no respite. I have to endure this, make it to the other end at all costs, or else. Playing by the rules all the time. No, it's far from easy. The end, or any temporary lull, seems far away. Only broken, at times, by an inevitable slide into an unfathomable blackness. Soothed by the dimmed light and faint chill. Yet, the wake up leaves me a quiver, numb. I can take no more. The mind wanders. It’s just as well, for the insistent whine tugs at the very threads of my being, my reason.

But, it's only a fleeting rescue; I am dragged back from self-imposed exile. And this time there is light. Too much of it, actually. The presentation done, so-and-so from the Quality department has decided to defer to the audience. An audience drawn from various divisions, only now united in their misery. Of the two dozen in the room, my gaze finds a couple or so groggy faces reluctantly coming to terms with the waking world. Only the machines survived unscathed.

The wheels in my head attempt to turn. Good luck there, buddy. My synapses had long gone cold. I did no harm. Not to deserve this. But 'mandatory' is an awe-inspiring word, enough to cow most into submission. Masochism you might say; otherwise who would want to join a bunch of strangers in a dimly-lit room for a 3 hour session, bordering mental. A time slot post-lunch is definitely not for the sleep deprived. Add to it the pièce de résistance, the tenets of Quality in Management, cast in Power Point. Delivered throughout in a sepulchral monotone, you'd half expect to hear a muffled sob or two in between. Considering the long line of souls damned to suffer in silence, a collective wail would have been more appropriate.

Now Queasy is the kind of department which really put the moan into Monday-morning-quarterbacks. Upholding a tradition from the Dark Ages, where the Torquemada elicited more than a few moans from unfortunates deemed to be outside religious tolerances. In footballing terms, always late into a tackle, while showing no intention of playing the ball. Worthy of a straight red on any pitch. The blind tripping up the sighted with their cane, then claiming reparations. The differently gifted attempting to level the playing field. I could drown QD in high praise. Then a little more, just to make sure.

The spinmeister, impressed at his handiwork, the sight of a class rendered brain dead, has switched tack. It's question time. Three and four letter acronyms (there's always a Q somewhere), fly forth. I keep up by lip synching with a handful of eager beavers out to impress on the front row. Goebbels would love to know whether the session has enlightened and uplifted our hitherto meaningless lives to the ways of the Zen, and the arcane art of Preventive Motorcycle Maintenance.
Why, of course, if you say so.

We troop out in silence. Another batch awaits their turn on the outside.

Condolences are in order.


Anonymous Deepti said...

Hi! Great vocabulary. Nice flow of thought.

I think what's missing is the X-Factor, you know that thing that keeps readers hooked? Just try throwing words around a bit more..

Hope that helps! :) Keep it going. Your vocab is great. You have potential.

December 14, 2009 12:51 AM  

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