Skip to main content

Mastering Tools

I have seen a lot of amazing work done on Excel but these paintings are at a whole another level of Excel mastery. It reminds me of my boss P at my second job out of college. Changing jobs made me feel grown up and competent - I even managed to negotiate a better salary. All that newfound self-assurance went to the wayside once I started working for P. She made me realize that I had a lot of growing up left to do. P was one of those women who age remarkably well. 

Based on her resume she was in her mid 40s but she did not look much other than a college student. She was single and had no intention of changing that. The guys at work took her seriously - I learned from observing how her bullshit detector worked. Clients respected her opinion and her word was usually the the last one on any contentious topic. P was tough but fair and you got not extra credit for being female or a newb or both. You worked hard and delivered good results to earn points with P. The rules were simple and they worked.

And P was an artist. During lunch break she doodled on Paint as she ate at her desk. We knew better than to bother her or ask if she'd like to join us for lunch. About six months into the job, I emboldened myself enough to sneak up to her desk during the sacrosanct doodling hour. She ignored me - which was already a win. I pulled up a chair and observed her quietly. She was painting a scene from the Mahabharat only aided by imagination - an on Paint. Her level of mastery with what was clearly a vastly inadequate tool, blew me away. Over time, P showed me full set of paintings - a series themed on the Mahabharat that she dreamt of exhibiting one day. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Part Liberated Woman

An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no matter how flawed and imperfect. We have both spent over a decade outside India and have kids who were born abroad and have spent very little time back home. Returning "home" is something a lot of new immigrants like L and myself think about. We want very much for that to be an option because a full assimilation into our country of domicile is likely never going to happen. L has visited India more often than I have and has a much better pulse on what's going on there. For me the strongest drag force working against my desire to return home is my experience of life as a woman in India. I neither want to live that suffocatingly sheltered existence myself nor subject J to it. The freedom, independence and safety I have had in here in suburban America was not even something I knew I could expect to have in India. I never knew what it felt t

Cheese Making

I never fail to remind J that there is a time and place for everything. It is possibly the line she will remember me by when I am dead and gone given how frequently she hears it. Instead of having her breakfast she will break into a song and dance number from High School Musical well past eight on Monday morning. She will insist that I watch and applaud the performance instead of screaming at her to finish her milk and cereal. Her sense of occasion is seriously lacking but then so is mine. Consider for example, a person walks into the grocery store with the express purpose of buying detergent because they are fresh out of it and laundry is only half way done. However instead of heading straight for detergent, they wander over to the natural foods aisle and go berserk upon finding goat milk on sale for a dollar a gallon. They at once proceed to stock pile so they can turn it to huge quantities home-made feta cheese. That person would be me. It would not concern me in the least that I ha

Under Advisement

Recently a desi dude who is more acquaintance less friend called to check in on me. Those who have read this blog before might know that such calls tend to make me anxious. Depending on how far back we go, there are sets of FAQs that I brace myself to answer. The trick is to be sufficiently evasive without being downright offensive - a fine balancing act given the provocative nature of questions involved. I look at these calls as opportunities for building patience and tolerance both of which I seriously lack. Basically, they are very desirous of finding out how I am doing in my personal and professional life to be sure that they have me correctly categorized and filed for future reference. The major buckets appear to be loser, struggling, average, arrived, superstar and uncategorizable. My goal needless to say, is to be in the last bucket - the unknown, unquantifiable and therefore uninteresting entity. Their aim is to pull me into something more tangible. So anyways, the dude in ques