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…..

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