Skip to main content

Dealing with Incompetency

Some days are just not meant to be for real! After two days of relentless moaning and groaning from my team members on the occasion of production time for the magazine (it's the time of the month when the contents of the magazine are finely checked and the designed into a page and put into press after final proof reading - read lots and lots and lots of re-reading of the same text) turns out that I am sitting uselessly at the helm of a computer that I am supposed to be operating to complete my work with ABSOLUTELY nothing to do!

As it turns out that my very well-read colleagues have not completed their work on time and now I must endure their delays and their constant moanings about how their husbands are calling them and what they could make for lunch and how being married changes the entire outlook towards work. Well, being the only unmarried member of the team, it was only too easy for me to finish my work on time and now I should cover up for lost time by doing work that was originally designated to them.

Marriage truly changes the perception to life, obviously we take the deal a little way too seriously. Looking at things a little more closely, nothing much changes in reality. Your postal address and in some cases your name, barring that I fail to see how a person's, especially a woman's dedication towards work can falter. I wish to specify here that I am speaking with a special reference to women who marry out of love, having known their partners for a while before actually tying the knot (and spending a full month at home getting used to the process of being together all the time).

Can marriage truly be taken as a valid excuse for shirking work? How can a woman of today say that she does not feel like working because she has a home to manage? Am I being too bitter to my own kind? Perhaps it would be wiser on my part to see what I choose to do should I get married? Knowing myself, I can bet on the fact that my work and my attitude towards it will remain just as flawed as it is right now. Whether I win or not, I leave for time to tell at its leisure.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Introduction to the Journalism Pathway

My career in journalism started out with an internship at India's prestigious Indian Express newspaper in New Delhi. The office, which took me well over an hour to commute to, was even then, a formidable force in journalism in India. Still an wide-eyed undergraduate with a theoretical grasp of the field, my first and only project over 2 weeks for the organisation, left a huge impact on my career.  The idea of going into journalism came from my English teacher, Mrs Moss. One day, close to the completion of my 12th grade, she was suggesting career options for some of us to explore. She looked at me and said, "Given your love for talking, you should consider a career path in law or in media." To put this into context, I was a student with good grades in an English medium school in one of the most backward states of India, Bihar. Any further educational aspirations would take me outside the town that I had grown up in, as was the case for all my classmates. Most of my peers w

The Meaning of Love

Late in the night, I was sitting at my computer yet again (yes, production woes continue)when I see an ex-colleague online. We start having a mundane conversation and he asks me somewhere towards the end, "What is love? How is one supposed to feel when they are in love?" I couldn't give him an answer in complete honesty (he wasn't interested anyways) but I went back to re-feeling, if there is any such possibility, the feeling of being in love. The first time I actually felt love as a woman was on my first Valentine's Day with my husband. Since we spent most of our waking hours together, we had a pretty clear understanding of what we liked or disliked. Despite it being almost a year later, it was difficult to surprise each other. And yet, when he walked in through the door of the flat I used to live it, cake in one hand, flowers in another and a shy, reluctant smile on his face to let me know how bothersome the whole ordeal had been... I felt very special. He sat d

Age of Innocence

Lost (as always) by the window seat on the bus ride to office, I felt a little tug on my shoulder. Kids!! There's always those days when a screeching child is being fiddled over by the mother who is making a more sincere effort towards making it all look very appealing to the irritated fellow passengers than calming the apple of her eye. My flow of anguish was met by a pair of solemn eyes next to me belonging to a little girl no more than six years of age who muttered a very quiet 'Sorry' under her breath as she looked away. Her mother seemed unwell and had taken the only remaining vacant seat in the bus and her father stood protectively beside her. The little girl looked tired but knew better than asking for some space to sit down next to her mother. She had found a little space to squeeze into between her mother's knees and was trying very hard not to express her discomfit. It was not hard to see that she had learnt to adjust her requirements to the needs of those aro