Muy Bien, Gracias….Cerveza?

These are the 4 words that get me quite far whenever I travel to Latin America. Invariably, the waitress at every restaurant starts the conversation with, “Hola, Como Estas?” and that is when I say, “Muy Bien, Gracias…Cerveza?” For Spanishly-challenged people, the conversation translates to, ‘Hello, How are you”, “I am well, Thanks…beer?” Even when they start the conversation with, “Buenos Dias (Good Morning), Como Estas?” my answer remains the same because a long time ago when I was in a primary school in India learning (or cramming) world geography and different time zones, I realized that there is always 5 o’clock somewhere in the world so there is no “wrong” time to drink a beer, especially when you are in a foreign country and do not know the language…..that is where beer does its magic – it eliminates all inhibitions and suddenly you start conducting meaningful, philosophical, intellectually-stimulating discussions with your host whose English is as good as your (insert the language of the country you are visiting here).

It is amazing to see how after a couple of drinks people from different cultures, nationalities, religions etc. etc. start bonding quite well despite the fact that sometimes they do not understand even a single word of what the other person is saying. More and more I think about it, more I am convinced that we should try alcohol as a facilitator during the peace talks all over the world. I cannot imagine any border dispute that Indian PM, Dr. Manmohan Singh and his Pakistani counterpart Mr. Nawaz Sharif cannot resolve over a bottle of some nice red wine from Bangladesh. And it is possible that after the third bottle, they may sell both countries to China and in that case there won’t be any border left to have a dispute about.

Now, it is a different thing that until I set foot in the US around 20 years ago as a student, I was a complete teetotaler and a pure vegetarian (when people say they are “pure” vegetarians, I always wonder how an “impure” vegetarian will look like). But then this is what a great country, such as the United States of America does to you – it instills strong values all around and hence during the very first weekend after landing in the US, my friends took me to New York City, where they introduced me to an intriguing and wonderful world of beer and chicken….and as they say, the rest is history.

Coming back to my Latin America travels, I recently returned from a hectic trip to Santiago, Chile and Lima, Peru. My excellent Spanish speaking capability (those 4 words I mentioned above) definitely came in handy at every restaurant there, though in these 2 countries I always replace Cerveza with Pisco Sour (and in Brazil, I replace Cerveza with Caipirinha). At the last dinner before boarding the plane, I tried hard to jam up as many Pisco Sours as I could and since there was not enough time to finish one and order another one, I had to start ordering 3 at a time (picture below is worth 382 words…the picture was supposed to be worth 1000 words but after a few Pisco Sours the story got condensed to 382 words).

During one of the several trips to the bathroom that fateful evening, I recalled my very first travel to Venezuela in 1995 when at a restaurant; I went to use the restroom and looked at the signs at 2 doors – “M” and “H”. I was pretty sure that “M” is for men but I wondered what “H” stood for. Since at that time my Spanish was quite bad (I did not know those 4 words mentioned above) and I had already consumed a few beers, I simply assumed that “H” must stand for “her” or something. Therefore, I charged confidently into the bathroom marked “M” and as they say, the rest is history.

Only when the bilingual doctor at the hospital that night explained it to me, I understood (the hard way) that “M” was for Mujeres (Women) and “H” was for Hombres (Men). Thank God that the damage to my eardrums from the loud screams of girls in that bathroom marked “M” was not permanent – I did get my hearing back after a few months. And with therapy, I am sure some day the mental scars will go away as well.

Whenever I go to Latin America, I am amazed by the free-spirited, fun-loving people of that part of the world. On a regular week day, you can see people playing volleyball and soccer at midnight on the beautiful beaches of Recife in Brazil. And talking about soccer, I always wanted my sons to take an interest in the game and play it regularly. My older one never showed any interest in any sports but lately my 7-year old son, Kush, has been playing soccer regularly at school so the other day I wanted to check with him how he liked it…this is how our conversation transpired:

Me: Kush, so how is your soccer practice going?

Kush: Good. I play at school every day.

Me: That is great. In that case, why don’t we enroll you in a soccer class?

Kush: No, I do not need a class. I am very good at it. I already have so many other classes to go to.

Me: But if you are in a soccer class, Kush, you will learn many new techniques about playing soccer

Kush: No, dada, I told you I am the best in my school.

Me: Kush, I guess you should learn some modesty.

Kush: What is that? Does not matter whatever it is, because as I said, I am very good, so I do not need to learn any modesty in any class.

Me: (Speechless)

Kush: And, dada, I hate my Kumon class. That is too much work. Why did you lie to me that Kumon was a Japanese system?

Me: What do you mean? It IS Japanese. If you do not believe me, you can ask your Uncle Google. And why would you think it was not Japanese.

Kush: Nyle, can you google it for me? (Kush was born with a huge sense of entitlement and a strong desire that he should have people doing everything for him….alas, he was born in the US and not in India so he just has his brother to do everything for him).

Nyle: (after Googling on the iPad).. Hmm. Interesting. Kush, it does say it is Japanese.

Kush: Really? But looking at my Kumon workload, I am sure it was invented by some Indian parents living in Japan. No other parent in the world can be that cruel to their kids.

Me: (Speechless)

Nyle: Dada, now I have a question. Why does Google think that it is so smart when, in fact, it is so annoying?

Me: What did it do to you now?

Nyle: I hate it when I start typing a word and it starts guessing what I want. As I started typing kumon, it started asking me if I wanted “kumon books”, “kumon canada”, “kumon math”, “kumon ice cream” etc. etc.   Can it not wait for a second until I am done typing? And then it acted like a smarty-pants when I typed Kunon by mistake. It asked me, “did you mean: kumon” with such an attitude as if I am an idiot.

Me: (Speechless)

And as always, my final thought……… brought to you this time by my lovely sis-in-law-cum-recently-turned-amateur-philosopher, Kanya Bahwa – “It is extremely hard to forget your third love.” After completing her internship last Monday, Kanya had two choices – either to turn into an amateur philosopher and pen down some memorable quotes like the one above or play peek-a-boo all day long. And as they say, the rest is history.

Millennials – A Lost Generation

No, by no means I am saying that Millenials are a lost generation. That was just to grab your attention so that you read the whole article to figure out how I prove at the end that this generation “Y” is a lost generation. Other alternatives for the titles I considered were – “Millenials – a sex-crazed generation”, “Millenials – Are you out of your minds?”, and “Millenials – Wannabe Gen Xers” but I settled on the lost generation.

So my lovely sis-in-law-cum-my-UOLO-girl, Kanya Bahwa (who is also a Millennial), is burning some midnight and weekend oil these days. No, she is not actually using a lantern to do her work because apparently they do have electricity in Mansarovar Garden, Delhi….she is just working insane hours during her internship at an export house. Unless you are on hallucinogenic drugs, your next logical question should be – what the hell is this UOLO? Well, apparently this is, and I quote from their website, “an enjoyable fashion for the social chic”. For more information, please visit http://uolo-stories.blogspot.in/ to see how Kanya is creating history single-handedly (ok, ok, she is using both hands but only one on her laptop….the other one to IM with me).

And after going through the UOLO stories, all I can say is – Thank God I do not live in New Delhi. It is clearly infested with chicks with a “smirky smile and a naughty streak”, who can take simpletons like me for a ride with their street-smart ways. These girls are dressed in Tie-Dye modern Safari shirts, which I believe (based on the description), are equipped with some radio-active material to annihilate any not-so-subtle man who “accidently” try to rub his shoulders with these chicks in Delhi Metro.

So the next question is – how did Kanya land such a great opportunity to work in this cool fashion environment? And based on what she told me right after her interview, I can confidently say that it was because of her creativity during the interview. So this is how she answered some of the questions.   

Interviewer: So Kanya Bahwa, and by the way, I know your real name is not Kanya but for your jiju’s blog, let us go with Kanya. Anyway, creativity is very important for this role but I am also looking for some superior analytical and problem solving skills. So, let me ask you this simple question – Assume that your jiju’s friend Skanda is helping him to shovel his driveway. If they both take 24 minutes together to clear the driveway, your jiju alone takes 32 minutes to shovel the same driveway, how long it will take for Skanda to shovel it if he was working alone?”

Kanya:  Why should I calculate how long it will take for Skanda (wow, that is a unique name…are you sure, it is Skanda and not Sikandar?) to shovel the driveway?  I will just go to Skanda and ask – Hey dude, how long will it take for you to shovel this damn driveway?

Interviewer: Hmmm. Interesting. This is pretty smart, Kanya. Ok, here comes the nest question – If you wanted to reach to your destination in 30 minutes but have driven only half the distance in 20 minutes, how much faster will you have to go in order to still make it in the next 10 minutes.

Kanya: I do not care how fast I need to go.  I will simply tell my chauffer, “Ramu Kaka, drive faster because I need to be there in 10 minutes.”

Interviewer: Oh, so you never drive yourself?

Kanya: Yes, I do.

Interviewer: Really? OK, so let me ask you a common sense traffic light question. What is the difference between a flashing yellow light and a flashing red light?

Kanya: Color. One is red, other is orange.

Interviewer: Again, you have a clever, if not slightly deranged, mind. Let me ask you one more question to test your analytical skills. If one tree grows at 3/5^th the rate of another tree…..”

Kanya: (interrupting the interviewer): Look, Deepak, I know your name is not Deepak but for my jiju’s blog, let us go with Deepak, If I had to watch the freaking trees grow, I would have moved to my cousin’s grandpa’s farm in Roorkee, UP, rather than working towards a Diploma in e-commerce.

Interviewer: When can you start, Kanya?

When Kanya was telling me about her interview experience, I remembered one of my own interview stories when I was at business school. For a second round interview for a finance job in California, I got there the evening before the interview. As soon as I checked into the hotel, my cell phone rang and it was my host who told me that he would take me out for dinner with a few other Finance colleagues.  He asked me if I had any preference for any kind of food or had any food restrictions.  Obviously, I did not want to make a big deal about my food preferences so I replied, “No, I like all kinds of foods so whatever you pick would be fine with me”. He said, “We were thinking of going to a topless place. Will that be okay with you?”

Now, I had a tough decision to make.  I was not comfortable at all going to a topless place the night before my interview.  But then I was not sure if I should say no to these people because it might be taken in the wrong context and I might be labeled as a non-team-player.  I did not want him to tell the HR the next day, “See, this is why I keep telling you that these Booth guys are not really team players.  We should recruit more at Kellogg and stop going to Booth.  I know Kellogg offers only one finance course in their MBA curriculum but then how many courses do you need to learn how to calculate the NBV or NPV, or whatever the hell that is”.  So I went ahead and said yes to him.

An hour later, he came to the hotel to pick me up with two more finance people. As soon as I settled down in the car, he asked me again, “So, are you sure you are okay with our pick?”  Now this was another opportunity for me to correct the situation. I thought if I was not comfortable going to a topless place, I should politely tell them and request them to go somewhere else.  But then I decided not to say anything.

On the way to the restaurant, I kept preparing myself by thinking that I would not “look around” in the restaurant and just focus on my food or my conversations with them etc etc. After 15 tense minutes, we pulled in front of the restaurant called, “Ole Ole Tapas, Restaurant and Bar”.  Oh!! So we were going to a “Tapas” place and not a “Topless” place, I realized.  That damn southern accent of my host on a Verizon phone with a lousy connection. I immediately switched to AT&T.

Coming back to Kanya, I guess, the best part of her job is the t-shirts she gets to wear at work. The other day, on Facetime, I saw her wearing a t-shirt saying, “Instant Human – Just Add Beer.”  She also has a t-shirt which says, “Designated Passenger”, which I am sure comes in handy at wild, booze parties after work.

And, as always, my final thought: You will never know what you cannot achieve, until you do not achieve it.

Happy Mother’s Day!!!!