It was a bright summer morning, no doubt. I left office at about 9.30 after the early morning staff meeting to see a client at MIDC Andheri. The client was a corporate giant in steel pipes industry. My boss Shailesh Kamdar, who was just four years older to me but had become the bank's Country Chief, made it abundantly clear that the targets for this quarter were non-negotiable. It is Shailesh's killer instincts that I didn't have. My team had to rake in Rs130-crore this quarter to compensate for all loss of business during the entire year. I work for a foreign bank and the top management does not brook nonsense. Shailesh even suggested that my team would be wound up before the next quarter meeting that he was supposed to attend in Shanghai if we did not show at least Rs130-crore in our kitty by then.
All sales teams in all private and foreign banks in India were on tenterhooks. Shailesh's closing statement in the morning meeting with the entire Mumbai staff was, "I don't care even if you have to sleep with your prospective clients but we need to bring in that money by end of June if you all have to keep your jobs," he said looking directly into my eyes. That was a stupid thing to say to anyone without knowing the person but it revealed how bad the market was and none of the foreign banks were ready to give a long rope to their sales team. Shailesh's statement hit me hard for some other reason. My colleagues could see the sudden panic in my eyes. Thankfully they did not know the real reason for my panic.
At 1 pm I left MIDC after the meeting with the steel pipes company CFO. I was not very happy with the way the negotiations turned out. The company was also in some kind of dire straits because the economy was not doing well. Their real estate clients were not paying them and that had a spin off effect on their bank transactions. I caught a rickshaw from MIDC and changed over at Bandra to a non-AC kaali-peeli taxi to reach my office in two hours. My jacket was completely drenched in sweat by the time I reached office.
Even my deo could not help much with my body stench. I was so dejected that I did not have lunch. I sat at my desk cogitating over my plan B should I lose my job by July end. I was at my desk for over an hour feeling depressed at my own pathetic condition. I had made up my mind that I need to settle for less pay to live a full life. The stress levels in high-paid jobs was killing.
My parents were insisting that I should get married. An arranged marriage, that is. I would turn 37 this year. I too was interested in getting married as I was looking forward to regular sex that marriage brings with it. I was confused at my own sexuality but anything was better than jerking off in the bath every morning that only made me late to office. Mom often asked me what I was doing in the bath for so long. She was too innocent to understand a young man's plight. I would lie on the wet floor beside the commode and masturbate. I would stop-go for about 20 minutes before I would ejaculate. That was really tiring. For me any hole would be better than this torture-some morning ritual.
I sat back on the reclining chair spread my legs wide so that my sweaty crotch would get airy. I hated the look of the substitute laptop on my desk. It had so many stains on the key board. Some of the keys get stuck when typing and work was almost standstill since last four days. My laptop hard disk had crashed and it had gone to the IT department for rescue of data and repair. I was told by the only friendly guy in the IT department Vishwas Matre that I would get back my laptop in three days. But there was no message from the IT dept. I was irritated at their indifference. I picked up the intercom and dialed the IT dept number. Surprisingly Vishwas picked up the call. He was polite and informal as usual. I try to be professional in my attitude at office and prevent any informality to creep in.
"Hello, sir, wassup?'
I didn't spend time to exchange pleasantries.
"Hello Vishwas, is my laptop back in shape. I need it today. My work has stopped completely."
"Oh, I was about to call you to tell you that it will take more time as the replacement hard disk is hard to come by. It is not available with HP."
"Oh, shit! Vishwas, Do you know what is our target for this quarter? I might even lose my job next month. How will I work without my machine?"
"But sir, that's why I gave you my own computer to use. You will have to wait for a week for the thing to be replaced."
"Your laptop sucks. It even stinks so much. What did you spill on the keyboard? Was it rum?"
Vishwas took his time to respond. I was immediately feeling a little guilty for yelling at him. I didn't wait for his response.
"Sorry, Vishwas, I didn't mean to be rude. But I am facing a dire situation."
"Alright, sir. I will see if the laptop can be serviced in another two days." He sounded slightly disappointed with my behaviour.
Vishwas was young and smart and the most sought-after hardware support personnel. He was good at solving all kinds of software and hardware problems in a jiffy. Though he was a qualified hardware personnel I have seen him sitting with the programmers to help them solve their issues. But with my laptop it was taking unusually long. He once even told me over drinks that his personal target is that even the biggest IT admin problem should be solved in four hours, the entire system and the logistics with consultants and suppliers have to be geared up for that kind of delivery. Probably HP hard disk was really in short supply, I reckoned. Vishwas was also the most jovial guy in the office, least perturbed by the market situations and mundane issues like job loss. I wish I had his attitude to life. Vishwas suffered from Asperger's Syndrome, and possibly also Tourette's Syndrome, which interferes with his ability to interact socially with other people.
He was also the most good-looking guy around, or at least that was what my gaydar said. During the office party at Hotel Shangrila Intercontinental he was so sozzled in liquor that I had to help him visit the washroom. He could barely stand after about six shots of Bloody Mary. I was having a drink with him for the first time during the party at Shangrila. He became friendly quite fast and we discussed the anatomy of girls in the office with gay abandon.
When it was nearly midnight and most people had left the party we both had one more Bloody Mary "for the road" as he put it. When it was nearly 1 am we were still at Shangrila having Bloody Marys. He had an engrossing tone and tenor in his speech and I could listen to him endlessly. When I finally turned around to check on the party I saw all my colleagues had left. There were only about 20 people in the expansive ball room in small groups. And of course the stewards were extraordinarily good at their job. I was soon toying with the idea of calling a cab to return home when Vishwas said he wanted to piddle. He got up from the chair holding the edge of the table. I immediately got up to support him. He was so drunk that he was leaning on me when we walked towards the washroom. Most stewards didn't pay any attention as they seemed to be used to all these situations.
When I was near the washroom Vishwas looked up at me and said, "not this one, I would prefer the one at the end of the foyer." I was surprised that even in an absolute drunk state IT guys have preferences for washrooms. When we entered the washroom I was sure Vishwas won't be able to stand upright at the urinal. There was no one in the washroom. I slowly walked him towards the trough urinal and waited for him to open his pants. But he did nothing. His eyes were closed. I suspected that if I did not open his pant and take his dick out he would piddle in his pants and that would be quite unsavoury in a five star hotel. But even in that state of drunkenness I was certain that no one would come into the washroom at the long end of the foyer when there was a washroom near the ballroom.
