target practice

I still do not have a driving license in this country. This gives me that unwanted opportunity of waiting for taxis, some times under a scorching 50 degrees. Under the sun, there is very little thinking you can do...very often the only thing I end up doing is an oath I undertake which goes like.." I am getting that license next week"...It has been 3 three years now.

Under comparatively better conditions for living things to venture out; I have waited for taxis. During those sessions, I stop repeating my oath and look around at the drama that is being played all around.

Everyone does one thing first after they arrive; to check for signs that tell you who arrived first. It could be that guy who is almost in the centre of the road planning to stop the next taxi with his chest. Or it could be that mother with four children who looks daggers at any one who joins the queue. But the one who gets the ride is often somebody else. You could categorize them as the shameless, the arrogant, the fast or some times the lucky.

But if you choose to stand back and watch what happens during those moments when the taxi is still a thought on a every one's mind; theres is plenty for the eye.

The 30 something male in tight T-shirt and denims with cigarettes, mobile/s in hand looks like he was paid by some covert governmental agency to measure every female's arse with that invisible tape he had been provided with. Two school kids play target practice with a pepsi can and the waste bin fixed on the sign board. Every miss spills a few drops on to those who are waiting.
The construction worker who is used to talking over the din of concrete mixers at work; talk loudly to his friend about how the "item" at the dance bar gave him "looks" last night. The father with his teenage daughter looks on wishing he could kill people by merely thinking about them.
The asian couple displays some affection in public and the kids find the target practice sort of uninteresting any more. The beauty queen born with the mobile phone, plugs in the hands free because the device is burning her ears.
The Executive in a suit looks at his fake Rolex for the umpteenth time.

Finally a taxi arrives. The man controlling traffic in the middle of the road jumps on to the pavement to save his life. The kids throw the pepsi can on the road and in a flash grab the door handle. The woman and her kids gets in their way. She shouts, grabs one of the kids' cap and throws it away. While that kid retreats to get his cap, the mother herds her kids into the car.

The beauty queen starts her next life-saving call and the 30-something moves a bit closer to her. There is another guy in the middle of the road ready to risk every thing he has. More mothers with more children are arriving. I take another oath..

Estranged

There came that time in my life when the pen needed more than words to go...a place where some of you have been to; the crash site of elusive, ephemeral moments. And I asked myself; what happened? How did I get here? What was it about?

Some times something can pick you by the short hairs and fling you around. Some thing called ...I do not know what...

Or maybe I got it all wrong.

You carry around beliefs about yourself that make you feel special, desirable, precious and innately good. After the initial phase where you take care of all those parts of your essential being; you put it down on a shelf for safe keeping. You assume that they have done their duties; a rest is fine.

But others do not rest. After all you were always under their eternal surveillance. They put those sticky yellow post-its on your back. All unawares. You carry them around. Slowly, you become the tag you carry.

Confused,you look around. You see someone else with a similar tag. You smile and then warily sit down for a coffee at a table.

What took you there? Deprivation? Angst? Boredom?

This is the real potent part of it all.

To sit down with your back towards the rest; the post-its on your back saying it aloud; but you go on to sing a song....over a coffee.

You carved out this time from your life for a song or a coffee? Or was it for something you can't explain? What is that dumb excuse?

I know just this much..It isn't mine to command it....let the flow wash me ashore...


When I find out all the reasons
Maybe I'll find another way
Find another day
With all the changing seasons of my life
Maybe I'll get it right next time....(GNR - Estranged)

A bed time story

I must warn you right away that the title can be misleading. My intention is not to give some tips on how to deal with your sleeping problems, if you have any. Such articles are plenty in magazines and on the internet, very often copied from each other. After all, our world is right now so busy copy/pasting like crazy!
So, back to “sleeping disorders”. The issue I have in mind is related to a few people who came visiting me when my family was back in my home country. These “people” weren’t total strangers. They were friends of my uncle. There were five of them. Plus my uncle. Six big men. Six too many...

Human beings can hide a lot of stuff inside themselves. Some of it is actually better left inside always. One good example is what they do when they do not know what they are doing, when they are sleeping. Snoring. Friends, I am not talking about that irritating sound made by a man while he is sleeping. I am talking of a massive onslaught on your eardrums caused by five after-dinner drunk obese men at 12 in the night. Words are woefully inadequate to describe that experience. You can probably talk about it later, if you survive.
That night was the longest night of my life. It was like trying to sleep on top of a spluttering genset; infact 6 gensets on a spluttering world championship. I think at some point in time, my ears were bleeding or I might have been hallucinating. It is just the Almighty's grace that I was not turned into a serial killer of snoring people.

I did some reading once I survived. I had to. You never know, they could come again, right? You must also keep in mind that such a night can be a life changing experience. At least I was happy to remind myself that I was not a woman and one of their wives. So I did this reading to protect myself just incase such a calamity finds its way to my house a second time.

According to health expert and author Mr. James A Penn, “snoring is caused by something that blocks the air passages causing the tissues to vibrate. The back of the mouth is collapsible and the tongue, upper throat, and soft palate, and uvula come together here. During snoring, these 4 parts strike against each other to produce the vibration that we know as snoring”. This information was not helpful. I wanted to know how people can “roar” in their sleep.

That is when I found this information: “The mechanics of snoring are produced in the throat. As air travels down through it, you end up getting vibrations that create the sounds of snoring. What a lot of people don't seem to realize is that their jaw's position will actually lead to the expansion and contraction of the throat. The more room you have for air, the less likely you're going to experience vibration. When people snore, they have their jaw open or at least loose. That causes the constriction. All you have to do close your jaw and snoring will stop”.

That is it! All I need to do is makesure that their jaws are closed. Cut out their air supply. I may have something at home to get this job done. For those of you out there who ever had to go through what I went through and are thinking what I am thinking, here you go….I am willing to share this life-saving gadget with you. Check out the picture above! As I always say; Information saved is a life saved!

Tattoos, sand, stuff

If I sit down and start making a list of things I wanted to do; it would definitely be a pretty long list. But if I ever sit down and make a list of things I once started and never completed, that list would be longer. "Keep this blog alive" would be one item I wouldn't want to see in that second list.

Holy cow! It was in December that I scribbled something on this page!

Why didn't I do something about it? Was it the lack of a topic? Lack of time or a reason to write again? Laziness?

How ever in the last three months I had tried quite a few things; a second attempt at a few other things; but never completed or continued any.

The list of the new accomplishments read like this:
- Started going to the gym after 3 years. (I wonder why...I always seem to lose weight when my intention was to gain a few kilos)
- Started working on my life ambition. Write a movie-script (So much talent in this world is lost for the want of a little courage; wouldn't you agree?)
- Went Dune-bashing. Loved it. Would like to do more next winter. (Though I had a tough time washing the sand out of every hole on my body)
- Added half an inch to my waist line. Didn't want it; but came in handy because this country doesn't sell jeans that fits my sexy waist.
- Got a tattoo (I must be the skinniest guy on earth with a tattoo. Thank God they had small designs)

The list of stuff that I started and stopped were:
- Stopped going to the Gym after 1 month. Didnt gain/lose any weight. Lost 2 months fees that I paid in advance. I must accept a fact; I am genetically incapable of putting on weight; I may have to find another motive to visit the Gym (?)
- Stopped working on my movie script after 3 pages: Writer's block (You've heard that before)
- Get that date to get that UAE driving license: two days leave, two attempts. Result was the same. The counter will close by the time I have finished waiting for 6hours. They said they don't have enough staff. Emirates Driving(me-up-the-wall)Company &*#@*holes....May u all be bit by rabid camels...
- Save some money. I save some, I spend some more. It is like building sand castles on the beach. Wave one; zero castle. What is wrong with me, Mr Robert Kiyosaki?

Shall write more soon; that's very likely. I have this tear jerker on my mind. Kind of a personal experience soaked in sobs and cold fury.
Title: "Trying to sleep in the same room with 6 guys who snore"
Keep watching this space....

Sex!

I was reading an article on psychology of sex (?) and I found something interesting. Now, sex is always of interest to all, in written form and in writhing form. This was an interesting read on "arousal". There were these people who co-studied the subject "arousal in women".

The people who featured in this article (in a journal called Psychological Science)were Northwestern Psychology department chairman J. Michael Bailey, Lisa Diamond: Assistant Professor of Psychology at the University of Utah, Psychologist Roy F. Baumeister, Sex therapist Wendy Maltz,Florida-based sex therapist Miriam Davis, and Annie Sprinkle, a porn star turned sexual performance artist(?)

I never thought this may find its way to my blog some day. That was when an old college mate brought up the topic; and here it is....

A study revealed through this article, questions a lot of pre-set notions about arousal.

Desire can be often erratic,impulsive. Just like what happened to this girl Gerie, a college student from New Jersie. She kissed her girl friend during a party. A full mouth to mouth kiss. She is a heterosexual and she had her boy friend besides her but she says she didnt feel bad about. She had a few drinks during the party.She had sort of reasoned it out like this: "Guys are programmed to f**k, but girls aren't like that. Girls are more sensual, and the mood has to be right. It doesn't matter who's doing it, it just has to be right." May be the mood was right that night!

The study I was talking of states that men have eagerly embodied their reputation as the sexually enthusiastic half of the population, but women, deep down, are really thirsting for more. How they concluded was by letting men, women and transexuals watch erotic or pornographic videos with sensors attached to their genitals to measure responses. While men and transexuals responded to what they usually like, women seemed to respond equally to gay and lesbian sex just like they responded to straight sex.

Women are probably a bit disconnected from this genital thing, says micheal Bailey. "They are perhaps fully aroused more by circumstance, such as an emotional bond or a sexy scenario, as something that engages their brains and emotions". When men get an erection, Bailey says, "it makes men motivated to have sex with whatever's causing the genital arousal. I don't think women have the same connection."

Lisa Diamond says that some women unconsciously dissect what defines their sexual interests, and find that they may want different things from different sexes. "You have a lot of cases of totally heterosexual women who may not be aroused by women, but their deepest emotional bond is with other women," she says. "They feel they fall in love with other women, without the sex." Curious, isn't it!

Lisa likens arousal to a pathway: "For most men, their interests start with a sexual attraction, and then lead to an emotional attachment". But for women, she said, "the interest can go through the pathway in the opposite direction, with a deep emotional bond spawning a sudden sexual interest".
As I vaguely remember I think from a Woody Allen movie; the man moves his reading glasses in a girl's palm suggestively prompting her to ask him to stop doing it because it was turning her on.

How ever Bailey counters saying that this could be an evolutionary trait, because women didn't have to develop a sexual orientation, when men, as the historically dominant species, were the ones always seeking out mates. They are genetiaclly programmed to seek and f**k a female! Well, most of them.

Another point. How many advertisements have you seen with a nude or partially nude male body? Even when you get to see one, it is a clean hairless torso and a nice six-pack. But the six-incher is always a big NO. No penis please. Thus the average mind is used to seeing the female anatomy every where and thus associates the essence of sex with the female form. I am not complaining here ; just stating a fact.Visual imagery of sex is thus the nude girl.

So what is the connection? Even girls may like such an image. But do men get turned on by a nude male torso. No, unless they are gay.

Porn star Sprinkle says that her transexual co stars were so cuddly and loving until they started taking testosterone. Then they left all the cuddling and became just f**king machines. Its all in the hormones!

Thus it seems that the machines need to take a bit more time to study and adopt different strategies if they need to succesfully get into the girl's pants.Period.

For the inherently sapiosexual woman,her sexuality is so close to her heart and brain. Which could be the reason why the time taken for a male erection beats light in speed but the woman may take up to 45 minutes before she is ripe and ready.
I don't know what works for all. But it could be a mild perfume, or ruffling the hair, cooking break fast, or just a look. It could be a conversation of mutual interest, the proximity, or just golden silence. And as I always believe, there is no better foreplay than humor!

Count Dracula to girl: "What turns you on, babe? Would a bite help?"

Passion!

We took our students to this beautiful hotel in Dubai. The staff and management were very warm and welcoming. After coffee and snacks, we were given a tour of the property. The tour took some time; it was a big hotel. Back in the conference room, the HR Manager did a presentation.

He proudly told us that last year they made a profit of 25 million dirhams. I saw the awe on our students' faces. The presidential suite costs 45000 dirhams a night!

Later, the topic changed to internship. The HR manager went on to explain the unique advantages of their internship program and the students were truely impressed. And thats when one of the less intelligent/more blunt ones popped the question: "Sir, how much would you pay us during internship?"

There was a silence in the air. 40 pairs of ears waited eagerly. The HR guy cleared his throat and gave a weak smile. "We give 650 dirhams per month". Suddenly I felt sorry for him.

There is something that every hotel employee does while on their job: If you are still line staff; supervisory level staff; you keep complaining about how the company makes a lot of money and how you don't. But when you finally become a manager; you sing a different tune. Then it's all about PASSION!

It is a worn out usage; hotel job is all about "passion", yeah! This job may not pay you well, because you compensate for all that with your passion. Let us see the many ways you could use your passion...

When your company makes 25 million in profits and your salary increases only by 5%, remember; your passion has increased another 100% ! Otherwise you would have left that place a long time back!

When the rent sky rockets in Dubai, living costs shoot through the roof; remember; cling on to your passion! Who cares about money?

When hospitals and schooling for your kids rip your pocket; remember; your passion will save you!

Is it because of a passion-free workplace that the guy at that gas station or that girl at the grocery store gets paid more than you?

Could it be true that "passion" is a hotelier's monopoly that other industries do not have the option of using that to pay their staff less?

Hospitality, poised to become world's largest industry (been listening to this for the last 20 years) will not pay much because once the salaries are respectable, passion takes a back seat?


Note: The other day, I didnt have enough change to pay the cab driver. When I informed the driver about it, he did give me "passion" in return.

Let us hope that some day, passion could be used as an alternative for hard currency! Till then, cling on!

The true portrait

What would you do if you have been invited to your friend's place and find out that he/she isn't there? How would you feel if you were served a grand meal but by their servant and your friend was present only through a portrait hanging on the wall?

UAE boasts of the presence of all major hotel chains. Some hotels have more than 60 nationalities working under the same roof. That is like a slice of the whole planet placed under one roof.

Most hotel advertisements talk of unadulterated "Arab hospitality" served under great ambience. I wonder.....

Whether you are in Thailand, Swaziland or Newzealand, when you arrive at a hotel, any where else in the world you are welcomed by some one from the same country. Atleast the one who opens the door for you is from there. In UAE; if you meet a national at the door, it is because he/she is checking out from the hotel. There are no nationals from this country who work in hotels.

The famed Arab hospitality is served by Indians, Srilankans, Filipinos, Lebanese, Russian, European, American etc etc.

The food isn't cooked by them. The rooms aren't maintained by them. The guests aren't looked after by them. The hospitality you experience in these hotels isn't Arab hospitality. It is Indian, Filipino, Lebanese hospitality that you enjoy.

I would like to receive my guests in person when I welcome them to my place. When would some one receive the famed true Arab hospitality in this beautiful country? When will a local Arab replace those portraits hanging on the wall? I hope it happens soon.

summer, rain...

This summer vacation spent in kerala was a study in human frailty. Rains came and went with out notice. Powercut was the only other event that beat rains when it came to uncertainty. Throw in a few harthals, couple of road accidents and some real pain-in-the-back political processions; you've got a vacation you would rather refuse.Plus if a few of your family members fall sick, thats all you need to regret it even more sincerely.

Now I must sound like a pretentious non resident who looks down on my home town, where it was all a part of my life till i left. May be yes. But once you sort of get away from it all, once the withdrawal symptoms have died down, you just don't miss it a lot.

The first 2 weeks, I found the roads too bumpy, cities so unclean and people too smelly. The second half of the vacation took me some where else.

I met the guy who used to come to our house to climb the coconut trees. He had grown old but still looked healthy. His son is now a taxi driver and had recently made him a grand father of 3 grandchildren. All of them are studying in the private school opposite to my house. They walk it down from their house, almost a kilometer away, every morning. That morning, glancing through the newspaper that had nothing new, I saw them entering the school and remembered my younger days.

Every first week of June, when schools reopened after summer, the rains come.I always had to walk to school with my new school uniform sticking to my body from the rain water. But inside the humid and warm class rooms without fans, it dried up fast.

I remembered playing in the muddy water on the school play ground. I remembered the perpetually bruised knees. I could even taste the packed lunch prepared by my mother.I remembered my friends; the maths teacher who pinched me with no mercy when I made mistakes; the school day; the sports day.. . I remembered coming back from the school holding my younger sister's hand.

I remembered all this sitting in the porch, looking at those 3 kids. The rain was in my eyes.

Lord, for you!

India is set to overtake China as the world's most populous nation by 2050, while some countries will shrink by nearly 40%, according to new research: says BBC.

Wikipedia mentions that India's population of approximately 1.13 billion people (estimate for March 10, 2008) comprises approximately one-sixth of the world's population. India has more than two thousand ethnic groups, and every major religion is represented.

We also have a big economy measured in USD exchange-rate terms, the twelfth largest in the world, with a GDP of around $1 trillion (2008).It is the second fastest big emerging economy, after China, in the world.

But because of our per capita income of $4,542, the World Bank classifies India as a low-income economy. We already knew that, didn't we?

We have a huge country, no doubt. Our problems are also humungous; too many people, religions, languages, political parties, beaurocrats, rats...and less and less of food, water, toilets, buses, good clean men...so on and so forth..

With more people, problems link themselves to each other. Worldwide, industrial growth can, and is taking place with virtually no increase in the demand for labor. More and more children from the slums have to find some job as their parents find it impossible to feed their families. Wages are pushed down. Self respect goes for a six. Dignity of labour was anyways alien to us.

We hollered at Bush when he said we are about to eat up every thing at the buffet with our Chinese brothers. But look at the figures: In the three-year periods of 1979-1981 and 1991-1993, world-wide food production per head moved up by 3 percent, whereas per capita food production jumped 23 percent in India!

Dr Ramana Kumar who is currently working in the World Health Organization (IARC), Lyon, France says that "there is currently tremendous pressure from mostly Western Monetary Institutions to wind up India's PDS (Public Distribution System). There are also many un-rectified inefficiencies in the acquisition and storage of grain. It is estimated that as much as one-fourth of the grains managed by the Food Corporation of India are wasted due to spoilage, disease, or transportation losses.
Given the magnitude of the problem, any Indian government ought to be fully justified in enforcing the one-child norm in the entire country, irrespective of caste, creed or religion".

We are many people in here; and we eat big. Bush cant tell us to diet. True. But that guy ought to be scared. But no one should be as scared as we themselves. But are we? Seems not...

The just-concluded Kerala Catholic Bishop Council (KCBC), the powerful body of 29 dioceses, has called upon its followers to make more babies. “We are planning to develop a pro-life ministry in a big way. We want to promote and encourage more life. Our family commission has submitted many proposals to check the dwindling numbers of the believers,” said Father Stephen Alathara, KCBC deputy secretary. The Christian concept of sexuality blends love and procreation on an equal footing. Thou shalt procreate more...

In such a holy scenario, how do people like Dr Ramana Kumar stand? Right in their way.

According to the guidelines issued by the council, all hospitals of Church will provide reverse sterilization surgery in subsidised rate, and no pregnancy termination surgeries or sterilisation surgeries would be done in hospitals of Church.Parents who produce more than two children would be honored in public functions.

Picture this: Mrs & Mr XXX (no pun intended) coyly accepting a plaque which says "For fruits of labor" after a sunday morning prayer and the rest of the parish with slightly embarressed smiles, nodding in approval? Kids looking at all the big bellies of women around and wondering why the church has become so small these days? Newly wed couples watching Mrs & Mr XXX on stage, looks at each other, clasp their hands together and takes a mental vow to DO IT more often and be up there one day?

I think the council has forgotten one thing in all this confusion. How about the catholic priests chipping in with a lil help? Atleast a few had proven that procreation isn't such a foreign subject to them, after all!

God, save me from your followers!!

The lookers

"Men ogle at women for almost one year of their life time"

"Thats it?", some would ask. Women mostly. "You mean they do some thing else for the rest of the years?", few would go on. Alright, go ahead. Say it again.

The article I read says that a man ogles at 11 women on a day, each one a different woman, and none includes his wife. Each woman gets approximately 2 minutes of his undivided/divided attention. Do a simple maths and you will know how this translates into that "1 year".

So? Women have no interest in this activity? O yeah! They do! but they are more selective it seems. And they ogle at 2 men a day, 90 seconds each, which means they save almost 10 months from their lives to do more "useful" stuff? Useful? Well, that I guess depends....

John Sewell, of the global market research firm www.onepoll.com, that carried out the poll, told Daily Express that this is why men have to ensure that they impress women in a relatively short time of 90 seconds! So my male readers; now that I have your attention, allow me to share some valuable tips. Dear ladies; if you do not agree, you are still right. All generalisations are false; aren't they!

I say; my brothers; first of all, part of what makes a woman tick, isn't really in your hands. And partly, yes it is. This is why...
The poll says that 50% of women found that they were attracted first by the eyes of the man, then they had a peek at his back side and later, checked out his perfume. I think that explains why the average Indian man fails miserably when competing with men from the other parts of the globe.

First of all, he thinks mentally undressing a woman right in front of her own eyes is sexy. See, all women do not behave like the ones we see in Basic Instinct. Leave the de-robing for the indoors; once you reach there ofcourse.
Secondly, your back side. Check it out yourself in the mirror. Caution, dont let your wifey catch you at it. She may quickly make a connection with the extended hours you have been spending with the boys at the club! Anyway, check your butt. Do you see any of the following?

The waist measures more than your chest and thus your posterior looks big enough to block Sir Ivan from the Cayman island?
The trouser is from Carrefour promotional bin and it has pleats in the wrong place that makes you look like "post-Ivan-Cayman island"?
Your bottom still carries a vivid impression of the white paint from the wall to which you have been leaning while you were waiting for the cab/ogling again?
Your hand runs like scared mice all around your waist adjusting, pulling, pushing, scratching-where-its-itching?
Or probably worse, you habe no butt at all?

Hmm, if the answer is yes to any of the above questions, the woman in the question would thankfully reduce those "90" seconds to 0.9 and check out another butt in the vicinity. Plus, the rest of this blog wouldn't be of much interest to you.

That brings us to our 3rd point. Do you smell? Most men can never answer this question correctly. Most Indians, yes, have no idea. Why? I smell, you smell, your friend smells, our dad smells, the whole bloomin town smells. Who ever worried? None of us ever told our brothers that they need to smell good! After all, the wives who bore our children never told us that we smell even during our most intimate encounters with them!

But guys, you are not checking out your wife now! And,this woman is checking you out now. If you smell; she knows. Knows to keep away.

Another interesting find from the poll was that 50% of the men were caught ogling by women while only 30% of women were found checking out men! Now say, who is smarter at it?

The comforting find was this: The majority of the women found an approving gaze enjoyable. Only 30% found it disturbing. 80% of men found that a woman's stare did wonders to their self esteem. Now, those percentages are very close, aren't they?!

Keep looking; but guys; check out your butt first!

Comforting the customer

I should have been more careful. I didnot check properly. It was only when I opened the big pack at home I realised that the comforter I bought from the Co-op was for a single cot. I need one for my queen sized bed. Fortunately, you get to exchange the product within 48 hours of purchase and if you still have the bill. That sounded alright.

When I entered the shop again there were many hours to go before it would be "48". One thing I was told by others was that Co-op isn't really known for customer care. I was going to find out.

The man behind the counter was huge. I smiled. Didn't register. I smiled again. No reaction. Then he mumbled some thing. Mr mumbles probably understood that I was there to make life miserable for him. It was a simple equation for him; Product to be returned = productive time wasted. I explained my problem as clearly as I could and before I could finish, came the question."Where is the bill?" I was holding it all the while. I extended my hand. He looked at suspiciously as if I had it tainted with some unknown virus. This time I returned the look. He took the bill.

Most people would inspect an invoice by reading it first from the top. He checked all sides, its blank posterior, its sides, underneath it; I didn't know that a flat piece of paper had so many sides. The comforter in the polythene pack was the next item to undergo the scrutiny. The bill's treatment paled in comparison with this one.

He checked the item with such contempt that he would convince you not to return any more items to any shop any where in the world. He shook his tiny head; tiny for such a huge guy; and said, "This cover is too large for this item". Well, I didnt make the cover, I thought to myself. "Yes the cover is large but the comforter is small and thats why I am returning it". He looked at me and shook his head again. I was starting to relate his speech with the size of the head, unintentionally. Finally he told me that he cannot accept the comforter because of 2 reasons. The cover is too large for the item which could mean that I didn't return the original cover. Second reason being the pack didn't carry a piece of paper which says what is the size of the item; whether it is single/double etc. I clarified that I made a mistake in picking up the wrong size because that stupid paper was not there in the first place. I was getting furious. It has been well over 20 minutes since I came in.

There was a kid standing next to him while this conversation was going on. A 12 year old. He looked very amused. In between he would kindly offer his comments about why the product could not be exchanged. I wasn't amused. I told him impolitely to shut up. Mr mumbles suddenly intervened and reminded that I need not talk to the kid like that. Must have been the Manager's kid. My instinct told me that I should solve this matter because the real Manager turned up. I did not want to meet his dad.

Though that was what I had in my mind, this is what I blurted out; "I want to talk to your Manager". But that made Mr Mumbles remember some thing. Suddenly he looked a little wary of me. The nonchalance was gone.

I planted myself next to his counter with my back towards him; arms crossed. 10 minutes passed. Then he called another employee. This guy came and checked the product. Then another guy came. The comforter was inspected as if they were determining its sex. Finally after 40 minutes, they concluded that I could exchange it. I took another piece. But it wasn't a good exchange. Mr Mumbles took atleast a year out of my life expectancy.