Being NOT well

It was 3-4 days good work resulting in a very smooth conduct of such an important event, more so in my area, for which I was satisfied. I didn't feel like attending the Get-together called by the "Big Boss" in the evening, i.e. just after couple of hours of completion of the event, and hence I skipped it. I was tired to some extent, no doubt. Besides, I usually refrain from this sort of celebrations or rather stick to silence when I smell 'success'. That's my way of conveying gratitude to God. How I would have explained that to my boss!! So I had to keep mum or rather say that I was tired when he asked me about my absence next day.
I believe when you put in all your effort in something and it gives good result, end of the day you need some time for the result to sync in. May be, I wanted some time to contemplate instead of joining a Get-together. As part of marathon planning for the event, my boss wanted some helping hand, a la NTPC style, for me in the form of representatives from our Corporate office to help handle the local hostile media for such an important event. This despite when the doer (read myself) knew that he could do it with elan. Two years into PR/Corp Comm, if I learned one thing, it is : the best pill for boundary management lies in clamly listening to your constituents rather than being an opinion maker as always. I am happy to have given ample time in listening to my constituents. But then, the credit should also go to my seniors.
As this feeling of not-feeling-well continued further, I had to opt for leave the next day. I took care to inform my team mates resulting in some "unprofessional" queries on the reasons of taking leave. I had some personal obligations to complete. But frequent phone calls on my landphone marred the day. It was sort of a height of irritation that I had to write a personal mail to my reporting officer as well as my boss to relieve myself of this anguish out of this unprofessional mannerism. I wrote a similar personal mail to Yashika before leaving Dun & Bradstreet and it worked. In a PSU, you can't draw a similar expectation. But the message "of being left alone" being conveyed in such a manner was satisfying. Somebody did pat me on my back for this courageous effort, citing it rarely happens in a PSU set-up since people are disgustingly loyal to their bosses to rise in the professional ladder.
I am hurt if people can't call spade a spade. No matter, I am habituated of being hurt for many things. Today, unlike earlier, I get irritated when the act of the other causes even the slightest of the invasion of my privacy. Oh, I believe to have grown up finally!!
As the uneasyness continued further I had to check in the doctor only to end up knowing about the viral fever and packing myself with medicines. I am going to office without fail, but yes, not feeling well. Let me humbly admit that I am not well.
How long I will pursue this practice of not telling myself that I am not well. And that I love to be left alone!!

Oh Bottle, My Bottle!!

When I see him, I remember the bottle. The half-filled yellowish _ probably due to lack of proper cleaning_ plastic container that I returned to him almost after a gap of five days. The five-days' separation between the bottle and its owner. A separation is always a separation, no matter how big or small it is. The bottle was still half-filled on Day 5 as it was on Day1 when he passed it onto me before checking-in at Raipur airport. I kept his in my air bag throwing mine to the dustbin. It happened naturally, and he was senior to me in everything. We were on a profefessional trip to Mumbai.
On being landed at Mumbai, we were disconnected, and so the bottle and its owner. Frantic calls on mobile went in deaf ear as I was apparently in loo. However, my call-back could somehow address, albeit temporarily, the internal turmoil of the just separated owner from its not-so-chick water bottle. You can't expect anything chick or of that sort from a senior executive of a PSU.
As ill luck would have it, the owner failed to obtain his most cherished stuff, a la the plastic bottle filled with water from home, the next day when we met in the programme. Blame it on me and my desire to remain so to the extent it is possible. Not carrying an umbrella even gauging the signs of rain, not holding a dairy to the conference room and not bringing the water bottle of this gentlemen despite knowing how keen he is is my way of sending a message to the intended audience. I love the Rain God to challenge me like I dare to win without a diary and defy all, including this owner, to register a statement best known to me.
The owner had to return sans his bottle as I could not join him again. I had to stay back in the city of Mumbai to reenergise myself, studying the bunch of "happy people", my old fascination since my Powai days. However, I called him up assuring how the bottle was in safe custody and would be handed over safely to him on my return. He was probably relieved, thanks to my natural instinct of making the report be reported, message be conveyed. I seem to be a thourough professional in this sense.
Despite quite a few expensive stuff and the bag being full, I ensured right space for the bottle removing the cover of my just-purchased Adidas shoes. I could not remember when I last did something similar, probably in Class V, probably to save myself from the wrath of my school-teacher dad. Anyway, back at my work place I sent one of my men with the bottle to be finally delivered where it belonged. Next day, I ringed him up and was relieved to hear that it is.

Tail Piece : Be a DGM, or the man who matters, in NTPC/PSU and even your bottle will follow you from Mumbai.