I miss going to the grad school. There's something so comforting about the fact that nobody would email me asking me if I have delivered work, despite telling them I'm in the hospital. Checking up every 12 hours if I will submit everything on time. I miss everything about it, including the inside jokes.

Speaking of jokes, my advisor from the university used to find humour in something which she referred to as bibliographical terrorism. It's a fairly strong academic joke to begin with, so my apologies if it's lost on you. She claimed that those indulging in citing authors and others, endlessly in the course of their writing are bibliographical terrorists, thus, making sure their writing is akin to terrorism. Holding the readers on ransom, one citation at a time.

An extension of this interpretation would lead me, later, to generalize blatantly (like most flawed humans) that people who work in the corporate industry are the largest scums of the Earth.

Okay, let me try to be polite about it.

People who work in the corporate industry are quite possibly the worst people on Earth.

For reference on how my worst works, watch this.



The narrative in the film Mean Girls explains plastics and how Regina George is pretty much the face of that cult. The explanation of the plastics ends with summarizing "evil tak(ing) a human form in Regina George" and proceeds to explain why we shouldn't "be fooled because she may seem like your typical selfish, back-stabbing slut faced ho-bag, but in reality, she's so much more than that". We should look at the characterization of Regina George in the light as the people devoid of having any heart or soul, or values. Or should I say 'Miss George' because you don't call them by their name since hierarchy is a real thing despite being in 2017, and seeing people as equals is a terrible idea, also because she's not your friend.

It seems that you require some amount of special talent to be a complete a heartless slab of stone; infact a droid to be able to make it successfully in your corporate industry. You may argue that the state of being where you're completely detached from other beings is what makes a successful professional, and I won't contest. However, that doesn't prevent you from having half a brain and not go out of your way to make someone's life difficult.

This is where the line between holding people on hostage blurs, for corporates and for organization like ISIS.

Imagine ISIS as a corporate organization, and the members who identify with the core ideology of ISIS as those individuals who work at these corporates. It would make this attempt of explaining to you (why they're the scums worst people on the face of the Earth) just about easy for both of us. They're blinded by their line of work and one track rationale. My grandfather says this about extremists and I've come to realize, a very core part of this theory stands true. All these people in cults, extremists, terrorists, and now corporates are hypnotized.

You may ask, why, do I compare the mofos at these corporate organizations to be equivalent to those running the show at ISIS.

You may also ask me, why are the crows black. I'm used to oxymorons. Go ahead, waste my time and yours.

Corporates are singlehandedly responsible for complicating things. If a simple task can be done via a phone call, you'd be reminded politely to please send those mofos an email, cc-ing fifteen other names from your team and theirs, just to put a fucking point across. It could be as much as, "Nigga, the flush ain't working on the floor. Got a solution? If not, should I arrange for someone to fix it?"

But no, that won't suffice. You will begin and always maintain fluff.

Dear/Hi xxx

I hope this mail finds you well. 
Somedays ago I decided to take a dump. As the nature of the human body dictates, taking a dump is quite necessary for the human body to be able to function properly, I would like to do the same. 

Also, the flush on the first floor washroom isn't working. Do you suggest if I could take a dump on the second floor? Also, could you please advise on how would you like to proceed with the faulty flush? 

My body organs are waiting for your response. My poop is on hold. 

Look forward to hearing from you.

Scatalogically yours,
*insert morons name*


Some few years ago, when I decided to be poor as hell and overstay my welcome as a student at the Grad School, I would come out to be smug as hell at all get-togethers and parties after hours. I looked at my poor friends with pity. Technically much richer than me, however, running low on peace of mind. I would get home tipsy, take off my heels, and thank my broke ass for having the patience to stay in a university, while actually enjoying my time there. You'd ask, why I'm here and trading that peace of mind. If only I could reimburse that peace of mind for my bills and luxuries. You have gotta start somewhere.

So, approximately 100 days ago, I got through to the job where I'm at. I was so thrilled that I continued to smile at every stranger at the party I was at. "I GOT A JOB TODAY. IT'S PERFECT!", I remember saying it to a random friend of the birthday girl who wouldn't care less, even if I had discovered the cure to cancer. Whiskey sours are potent that way.

When I decided to pick up this job, there were quite a few markers which I had in mind. One being that I needed the luxury of my weekends. If I want to pretend dead for 48 hours and not get out of my bed, I should have the right to do so. That, and to stay the fuck away from mindless uptight e-mailing and fawning over appraisal meetings. I say this because, I knew I was headed into an industry which is metaphorically like a sedated python. It's there and that's about it. You cannot climb upwards and you cannot practically move backwards. You're right where you are, today and ten years later.

Client servicing is something I did not sign up for, neither did I know I was going to have to deal with morons from the corporate world. It may sound like I'm trying to pass the buck, but believe you me, if I had an idea that I would be required to deal with stuck up assholes, riding their power over my left of centre back, I would be busy preparing my PhD proposal Privacy, legality and their Intersection with Bombay Cinema. I am that fucking turned off by the idea of dealing with the corporate mofos (henceforth will be referred in this piece as 'CMs').

These CMs believe that with an agreement to with your organization, they're not only bringing your organization into a legal binding with their organization, but also buying your derriere and spanking it till you say, "Daddy, please stop!". In other news, don't ask me what I've been streaming these days.

Having a Corporate industry client, in your field of creative arts is like getting into an arranged marriage with an Indian boy. Set-up by your parents, your organization's director/bossperson is essentially your parent who thinks you're of marriageable age. In other words, you're fuckable as hell (so, why not) and puts you directly as the face of the project. They need to show that they are armed with a team, a farcical statement when you work with 6 people and none of whom are working really (more on that collaborative effort in a separate post, I've a whole year to kill).

That said, as soon as you're past the introductions, contracts being signed and monies being received, ie your marriage ceremony over, you realize you've been tricked. You don't just marry their son in an Indian family, ie you don't just do the project. You are married to their entire fucking family. The corporate begins thinking that you're their ass to own (I'm sorry with all the ass references). Your evenings, days, and weekends belong to the corporate, just as how 'mummyji and deddyji' of your arranged marriage husband would like to think about you.

The corporate would expect you to bend over backwards for them, and not in a yoga position, do justice to the project and completely ignore their personal disregard for deadlines and avoid putting anything that puts them in a spot over emails.

Instead, you'll be asked to email them for everything, including taking a dump in the middle of a workday. Or for that matter, asking them if it's okay to take a dump on a work day.

Recently (as recent as three hours ago), a CM who I've had the pleasure of working with, began with asking me to shut up, and listen to her, continued to yell at me in her diluted 'murican accent. I was reminded of all that an academic space taught me.

To look at people as your equals, to not be afraid of speaking your mind or doing as you please and to definitely not taking bullshit from someone else. As I continued to maintain my stance on how I won't give in to their corporate terrorism of trying to rush me before a deadline, I knew at the back of my head, corporates ain't shit but hoes and tricks.

As for taking orders from that arranged marriage boy's parents, try taming me, bitch.

(The opinion in this piece is personal and uninhibited. Anyone who thinks they're offended can proceed to shut this tab and go eat dung.)