I get people asking me what I do for a living, all the time. After much debate (with I, me, myself and an annoying group known as ‘the rest of the world’) I have reached the following conclusion:
I am a firewoman.
That’s the female form of fireman, by the way. Revise that to the politically correct fireperson. Here’s why:
I spend my day:
- Running from fire to fire (Client call! Urgent email! Flash meeting! Mobile phone ringing! Crunched deadline!)
- Poking through the remains left behind by idiots who fell asleep smoking (snoozing at their desks or out on smoke breaks when the deadline came and passed)
- Hastily putting out little fires that start (“The next person to start a dirty rumour about me will be found beheaded the next day!”)
- Dealing with explosive (people)….and errr…being dealt with in this way.
- Diffusing potential flare-ups (“I’ve finished this week’s work already. Oh…uh…and here’s last week’s work as well)
- Damage control (“Hello, I’m so sorry about that….”, “I apologize for the inconvenience caused…”)
- Climbing onto collapsing shoulders and hoisting others on my crumbling ones (The you-scratch-my-back-I-scratch-yours principle of business management)
And here is why I may not be good at it:
- Other people throw cold water on my ‘fiery’ ideas
- I fan the flames of all the wildfire going by (Its only a dirty rumour when its about me; when its about others, hell….its entertainment!)
- I slide down the pole (and the ladder of success) AFTER the job is over
- Thanks to the wicked Mumbai weather, I’m drenched before I even start work
I rest my case. And my briefcase, laptop, fire-hose and helmet.
*BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP* There’s the siren again…..