Morons

I thought the title may be a little familiar. If you are a working professional, I am sure you can envisage about a million characters who fit this description to a T. And hats off to you if you happen to be in IT. Then this seemingly innocuous little noun is an all-pervading omni-present environment bacteria you encounter every waking moment of your life.

Let's take a few quick examples from your everyday activities:

1. Milkman is supposed to turn up at 7 to deliver milk. He happens to "forget" that he has to deliver milk today. Oh, and by the way, you have this super-important presentation to make at 9 AM to the boss' boss' boss' boss. Oh, well, skip the tea. Its bad for your health anyway.

2. You are driving on the proper side of the road, at the proper speed, giving proper signals. Suddenly, someone zooms by and not only honks at you, but gives you one of those classic you-idiot-can't-you-see-where-I-am-going glares. That he should have been driving on the opposite side of the road is altogether too small a point to bring under discussion.

3. You are standing in a queue to pay your electricity bill. The man behind the counter asks you if you are here to pay your electricity bill. Of course not, I just love hanging around stinky crowded government offices, standing for hours on end, sweating like a pig, rubbing shoulders with all the rif-raff in the world. It builds character.

4. You send daily email updates to your boss, along with printouts, in-person discussions, reminders, storing all of the above in complex IT repositories without fail, every single day of the week. Your boss, keeps asking you the same questions you have answered at least 5 times in all the communication modes above, without fail. Your performance appraisal marks you as the dimwit that needs to be able to manage stakeholders better. Oh well.

5. You weigh about half a ton and have to be poured into your clothes every morning. The only places you can acquire your outfits are the lifestyle stores that sell bedsheets. You decide to get a little figure conscious and enrol in the neighbourhood gym. You are all geared up in slacks, tee, sports shoes, complete with a wrist band and sweat band for that added touch of class. You walk into the gym and this big hulking mass of beef wearing a T-shirt with the words "Gym Instructor" written over it approaches you with a friendly smile. "So, you have come here to lose weight, eh?". Nah, I just like to puff around like a steam engine with all my flab doing the disco dance to provide these poor anorexic souls with some wholesome entertainment. Pun intended.