Painful Pink

As swamped as one may have been with meetings, today was a day of observations. So, when a heavy man of about 28 attired in a strawberry pink shirt and navy blue trousers beckoned my attention, it was wrong for me to have assumed the meeting was going to be 'rosy'! The perfunctory handshake, smiles, exchange of cards and ushering him into a discussion room happening almost simultaneously - it was now time for questions.

How do you think you will add value to our business? What is the sort of database you have to work on? Are you willing to work over weekends? Tell me something about your family....... None of these questions could elicit a straight glance. His responses ranged from fast, furious, animated, cynical, rude and unbeknownst to him - funny. And all of this with his curled fists firmly placed over what was first noticed upon seeing him - a pair of sly eyes! My first taste of novel interviewee etiquette. Here was an opportunity that had never come my way - of being able to react to a candidate right under his nose. There was no need to defer it to after the inquisition.

This absurdity was almost analysed as a lack of confidence. A back-end profile might not be a bad option for Mr. Pink I thought. But there was more to Mr. Pink. My early judgment was about to be slapped with more.

"I'll generate the enquiries. You give me the sales to meet our targets". This time, the tone altered and with an air of feigned confidence. Men get shrill too - didn't know. The table began to move. A mild rush of air under my chair and my kurta swished lazily. HE WAS SWINGING HIS LEGS. I quickly scanned his resume again - was he a Malayali? :) As my suspicion was laid to rest there was the embarrassment of sitting at a spasmodic table. And wondering if Mr. Pink thought he was here to get me to do his job. His eyes still hooded - in a dead silent room, my stare of disbelief quite obviously went unnoticed.

Without any further ado, I announced, 'Thank you for your time. We shall let you know the status of your candidature soon'. His eye shields came off immediately. Deadpan. Then after a wild twirl on his chair, he was standing - and headed straight for the door. It was a relief to know he was on his way out.

A jumbo glass of curdled strawberry milk being poured down the drain I mused as I watched him tumble down the stairway. Agreed -an ugly metaphor. But that was no delectable end to a day filled with number-crunching and deadline meetings.

Painful Pink will be a story worth regaling to those close. Painful Pink will whip a chuckle - at least in retrospect I hope!