There comes a time in every PR guy’s quotidian life when he questions himself thus:
- Who am I?
- What am I supposed to be doing?
- Where are my pants?
I did this yesterday and realized that I could answer two-thirds of the above questionnaire and felt very happy about myself. Just because I am in a good mood, I will share my responses with you.
Who am I?
A mildly confused, over-ambitious, relatively ignorant (I ignore my relatives), slightly overweight, extremely shortsighted, creatively challenged, socially active, coffee guzzling, beer loving, nicotine liking, technologically superior neanderthal. I wear worn-out clothes to work. My clients like me and the media is noncommittal, but I’m sure they like me too. I care deeply for a few people and for a few people, my care runs shallow.
What am I supposed to be doing?
Apparently, I am supposed to be working hard, trying to pretend that I know what I am doing. I accomplish this task with a positive nonchalance. I am supposed to be wrapping up the day’s work early, today being a Friday. I am supposed to be thinking of newer pick-up lines for the sweet girl who thinks I am being not serious when I say I like her a lot.
Where are my pants?
I have no idea. Someone stole a pair of my jeans yesterday night, when they had been hung out to dry. The only reason I had washed them in the first place was because someone spit on them. Yup, you read it right. Someone spit on them. Stuck in traffic yesterday morning at 8:00 am, on my way to work, I was thinking how a day could begin any worse.
Just when the thought crossed my mind, I heard someone clear their nose and take a deep snort and spit out a major blob of sputum. It so happened that this environmentally conscious citizen was sitting at a window seat of a crowded bus and that window just happened to be right where I was standing. The blob of spit landed on my left leg, just above the ankle and forced me to lose my temper, scream at that guy, show him the finger thrice and call him a ‘Fuck-headed fucker.’
I returned home, put the pants in the washer and came to work late. I went back home at night to discover that someone had stolen the pair of pants. I pity whoever stole them.
Thanks for all the spit, you fuck-headed fucker. 😀