The artsy fartsy

It has been one mad day at work, nothing like what I thought it to be. And nothing is going as per my plans. The whole day passed and I couldn’t finish even one writing assignment for reasons beyond my control.
My space has been dedicated to many personal and not so personal causes. Today, I thought of penning one down for a special colleague who deserves a special mention. Not because he is outstanding at work but he is one-of-his-kind, specie you could well preserve in a national museum. His kind is very rare and its a lifetime opportunity to work with him. Should I make the most of it, well that is a different question.
To begin, he claims to belong to the super-exclusive club of the Advertising Art, popularly called Art Directors. But, hey, the guy is everything else than arty. His creatives have rendered many causalities, yours truly, is getting prone to this fatal virus. He is a night animal and only works or pretends to work after office hours. During the office timings all he does is yap, yap and yap over the phone. He is the poster guy of any mobile service provider and if the network fails him, you can find him at odd places trying to catch. So what if he doesn’t catch a single brief or takes a nap between important meetings with the biggies? Quite understandably so because he doesn’t hesitate to chalk out his nocturnal time-table which consists of just one thing “calls and more calls”. Hence, the man gets no time to sleep at night and you’re supposed to empathize with him. Do not dare to question him, else be ready to sacrifice your most valuable asset “time”.
Creativity, designing and him doesn't co-exist. Even the colour schemes mean nothing to him. So much so that at the wag end of the day he comes to ask you about what colour to use. If he finds you in a generous mood maybe he'll quiz you with even visual usages. My copies have suffered many untimely deaths and given torturous treatments that can put many Nazi’s concentration camps to shame. And in between if you try to resist, his tone and arguments are bound to squeeze out your remaining life.
If that wasn’t enough, he has severe addiction to the concept of being in love and marriage and blah. He is in love with the idea of being in love. The problem is that he makes us suffer through his incomprehensible English and many endless stories of love lost. The women were too short sighted to realize that he was God’s gift to them so rejected him. His perfect idea of his ideal woman is also nothing usual. The fact that he is short by all standards is immaterial to his liking for taller, slender read drop-dead gorgeous working yet homely women. The blessed woman of his dreams should be ready to live with his ideologies and even unbearable penchant for writing poetry. She should come out alive of his nightmarish expressions in Urdu of which I am too unintelligent to decipher and so is the case with my colleagues. But the man is pretty focused in his single passion to get married, the sooner the better. Only if girls would realize this and be ready to get sacrificed.
He doesn’t understand the idea of being ignored because he thinks he is too good to be treated anything less than princely. Even an obvious gesture doesn’t register to him and the only way to get rid of him is to eat non-veg near him. Off goes the man, running to his mobile for shelter. A tactic my folks use often to make him run, far away.
Lately when the sufferings got unbearable for us, we decided to make life difficult with stiffer deadlines. The strategy was to interrupt his easy days with work so that he isn't able to handle the pressure and starts looking out elsewhere. We just wanted him to leave before he got sacked and spare him the humiliation. It isn't working at all and while I was spending my valuable office hours in writing about him, he comes and asks, “ Such and such agency is looking for copywriters like you, would you like to apply there?”
He left me speechless. All I could think is thank Goodness I am able to finish atleast this entry today.
Wish me luck, guys!


Pic courtesy: Google Images