Whacky Idea

I got a call from work around 10 a.m.wondering if I was coming into work. Considering we start at 8:30 (Ramadan timings), I was insanely late. However, this beautiful morning I had a legit reason, an excuse if you will: a meeting at our esteemed Labor Department, "City District Government, Hakoomat-e-Pakistan". Pft.

I left my house to drive down to Muslim Town. Now, my grandparents lived in the neighborhood years ago and I spent most of my childhood there, so I was a little familiar with the area. However, little did I know, it was a world on its own. Since I've started working in Defence, my interaction with varied forms of being has been restricted. I live in a bubble. People on the street sent me in opposite directions when I enquired as to where my destination lay. Twisted entertainment they have.

Anyways, I arrive there around 9-something and that's when my meeting is supposed to be, something o' clock. When I enquired about the Director, Nasrullah Sahib, I was informed that he wasn't in yet, but I could meet with Mr. X. When I went down to look for X, I was told he had surgery and was in the hospital. You'd hope your colleagues would know that! So I make my way back up to Mr. Nasrullah's office and am then passed on to Mr. Y. When they realized that Mr. Y was also not in yet, they sent me to Mr. Z. Please note, at this point I had explained my query/issue a whole of three times and had to explain that I indeed was a lawyer and employed by Kansai, and yes, I had graduated and how sweet of them to think I look too young. In the words of Bee: Disgusterz.

When neither X, Y or Z were there, they decided to allow me to leave and come back another time, when Nasrullah was in fact at work. Now having exercised all patience I possessed, I called the guy (who hadn't answered his phone the 5 times I tried before) and said something to the effect of: "Yo, you said come at 9, its 11 and now I'm expected to leave and return to Neverland another time? I have a life!" (reiterating to meaningless others that I have a life somehow makes me feel like its true).

As I got up to leave, gathering my files, the personal assistant to Nasrullah came running towards me (he was initially the jerk that thought it a good idea to pass me from X to Y to Z) saying "Madam (which I hate, because it makes me sound like a pimp) aap ne batayaa kyon nahin keh aap kinza paint say aayi hain?" Yeah, sure, like he knows a Kinza Paint and like KANSAI is that big a deal to begin with. Anyways, so he sits down with me, appologizes that his boss won't be making it in today and that he was there to assist in any way possible.

After explaining, again, how I had actually graduated college and then law school and then grad school, and that indeed I did work for Kinza a.k.a Kansai (my business card was not proof enough, interrogation is necessary... This is, after all, a branch of the Hakoomat-e-Pakistan) the guy gave me the information I needed. Then he congratulated me on getting so far in life at such a young age and explained how he was sending his own daughter to college. As long as she doesn't have to work for the Hakoomat, good for her.

In all, the work got semi-done around 11:20, two hours after having reached there for a task that ought not have taken longer than 20 minutes, tops. I'm a little glad that I went... I think Defence is making me soft... But what a way to start my day. Of course, I was greeted back at the office by everyone glaring at me, assuming (and I wasn't bothered enough to correct) that I was just sauntering in to work around noon because I slept in.

Whose whacky idea was law school, anyway?