MBA's, Limbo, Global Warming and Dirty Harry

Major Major had been born too late and too mediocre. Some men are born mediocre, some men achieve mediocrity, and some men have mediocrity thrust upon them. With Major Major it had been all three. Even among men lacking all distinction he inevitably stood out as a man lacking more distinction than all the rest, and people who met him were always impressed by how unimpressive he was.
- 'Catch 22', Joseph Heller
I've always been impressed with Joseph Heller. And equally with the character of Major Major Major Major. Something about him brings about a sympathetic twinge (or is it empathetic?) in me. The funny thing about Catch 22 is that the first time you read that book, it's funny. The second time it's a serious book. The third time over its a very sad story. Funny, that. And that said, let us begin.

I know I have been neglecting my blog and have decided to come back with a bang. Hopefully the bang will not be due to 2 kg's of explosives packed beneath my toilet seat, by irate readers of my latest post. Come to think of it, with this post I have a higher probability of being gone with a bang. I'm treading on thin ice here. Come to think of it, I'm actually treading on no ice at all. But in the interests of moral convictions (Yes, surprise! surprise! I happen to have some. If you're interested, let me know, and for a convincing price I could sell them to you if you want some) I have decided to most nobly proceed with publishing my views. Man, I'm getting so noble these days, I make myself sick. Anyways, proceed at your own peril. While the views expressed here are entirely the author's, he asserts the right to not own up to them. Depending on who's asking . Especially if you're an MBA, six feet ten, built like a refrigerator and live within a 100km radius of Bangalore. I know deadly Kung Fu techniques and will not hesitate to use them at the least provocation. But just let me know before you knock on my door will ya? I need some time to reserve tickets, see?

It's a little weird. What is a little weird, you ask? I qualified as an MBA, some time back. The weird thing being that I qualified and not that the MBA is.

There are two kinds of people on the face of planet Earth. There are people and there are 'MBA's. For the poor souls out there, who haven't been fortunate enough to have done one (An MBA I mean, I know what all you dirty buggers thought immediately though, Ha Ha), this is my chance to gloat. You poor poor people! Y'all do know that you're not going to heaven don't you? They don't let people in there who're not MBA's. Most probably you guys ain't going to hell as well, considering the fact its probably overcrowded with MBA's already. I mean if lying were money, then us MBA's would be the richest people on the face of the Earth. Actually, we probably are. All those rich 'Finance' dudes, in white shirts and designer ties? Where do you think they learnt how to deceive all you naive people out of your money? At Sunday School? Anyways, the long and the short of the matter is that you peops are going to be stuck somewhere in limbo, between hell and heaven, gnashing your teeth, and screaming 'Amma, You were right! I should have prepared for CAT instead of watching _____ ". Fill in the blanks with the name of that cute girl next door/ the Rajini movie that came out during your era/ porn. You know the one I'm talking about. Serves you doubly right for not listening to your mother too. Though god help you if she ever came to know that you were watching porn. Your mother I mean, not the cute girl next door. Women may avoid filling up the blanks. I may be brave, but I'm not stupid. But, you'll also be stuck in limbo. There's no escaping that. Unless you're an MBA, of course

See, apart from consideration of the state of your mortal soul, another reason you're going to regret not having done your MBA, is that we MBA's are special. Some of you may have noticed that. Every time one of us walks into an organization we have this air of 'You small people better treat me with respect because I have these three alphabets attached to my name'. And no, the three letters are not A-S-S. Or S-O-B either, come to think of it. All you mere mortals will just have to deal with the fact that having those three letters behind us ( and this time its definitely not A-S-S), makes us better than all the rest of you. When we walk in to an organization there are only certain jobs or designations that should be assigned to us. Something preferably along the lines of "God of Strategy", or "Big Kahuna of Marketing" or better still "Chief Genius Savvy Financial Whiz". Anything lesser is an insult. Unfortunately most of the world doesn't seem to recognize this fact. Why this happens we can't understand. I mean an MBA can hardly be expected to work under such mundane titles as 'manager' or 'executive' can he/she? Come on! You know we can't. In the absence of the aforementioned favourable titles, we might just settle for CEO, CFO or CIO as a compromise. But it's still a compromise mind you. I hear however, that the rest of the world often refers to us as "Pompous P@#ck", "Smart Ass" or just plain "Will no one rid me of this bloody pain in my rectum". Well in all fairness, people with Piles, and people who have just been kicked in the ass, also often use the last epithet, and hence it may not be limited in its application to MBA's.
The one thing I've learnt as an MBA is that you can take the man (or the woman, to be politically correct, or wrong as you'll find when you read on) out of the MBA course, but you CANNOT take the MBA out of the person. MBA actually translates to 'Well I don't know much about reality, but I've learnt all this stuff after paying shitloads of money, so you guys'd better listen to what I have to say (never matter that it's not in the least relevant)'. Remember this the next time someone asks you a complicated question like "Nasty weather we're having, isn't it?". All you deluded souls would probably answer that question with a simple "Yeah duude!". It takes an MBA to see the intricate details involved in that situation and come up with an answer like " Well actually as part of the global warming scene and the El Nino effect and this low pressure thats been building up over Uganda, and due to the fractal nature of weather patterns and the butterfly effect and the fact that ruminants have been flatulating all over the world (non MBA's read: Cattle have been farting) excessively this quarter YOY (non MBA's read: recently), leading to a hydrocarbon buildup, I think this kind of weather pattern was rather inevitable at Bangalore'. Who's going to visit Uganda in the near future, or god forbid actually go and see whether the cattle in the neighbourhood actually..... You get what I'm saying right?

Which is one more reason why the world is so unorganized. In the ideal MBA world a spade would be 'an earth inverting gardening tool' and knife would be a 'segmentation utility'. Signs would say "To stop train, pull value chain" and "Connecting concrete structure spanning an underlying depression 10 minutes away measured YTD" (you'd be more familiar with 'bridge ahead'). What's the use of world that doesn't let you use 'underlying' 'spanning' and 'depression' in the same breath, I ask? Hah! And of course for the people who are labouring under the serious misapprehension that there is something called the real world, I have two words ( No, no, I meant 'Forget it'). The real world exists only in power point presentations. If you can't do a decent PPT ( oh, that's suave slang for 'power point presentation'. Learn this acronym. Its probably the most important thing in your life!), your life is wasted. Anybody who tells you otherwise is wrong, or has not done an MBA.

There are advantages to being an MBA, which are beyond the reach of the pitiful majority, who have not evolved to the next level (which is obviously - 'MBA'). An MBA is a pre-requisite to 'Consult'. 'Consulting' is the MBA equivalent of going out on a date with Salma Hayek, Isabelle Adjani and Juliette Binoche. At the same time. Which is kind of funny, because until before I did my MBA, I always thought this was something which my Doctor did to me when I had, say..... a stomach upset. He 'consulted' on me, nothing else, before you let your imagination run wild. And as a consultant you get to advise people on how to run their affairs. That is their day to day working, not anything exotic, let me stress. This way you get to experiment and since you've couched your advise in phrases like the ones above on the weather, once things go wrong, you can always say "I told you so". And if you're that kind of a person you can wiggle your index finger under the nose of the poor slob who's taking the axe for following your instructions, when you're saying it. What other job can offer this kind of emotional satisfaction? Nothing else, though being a professional beer taster might just make the mark.

If you can't be an MBA, you could always try to act like one. Here are a few tips:

The next time you want to ask that cute chick in the next cubicle out, try doing it the MBA way. Make a PPT listing the advantages of accepting your proposal (remember to add 'value chain' 'segmentation' 'options' and 'future (s)' in it somewhere) and send it to her. When you meet her next, arrogantly ask her "so where do we go babe?" The results I promise you, will be thrilling. Well, if not for you, then at least for the people in the next fifteen or so cubicles around you.

Remember to answer most questions with "It depends". Please avoid using this however, for certain questions like "What's your mother's name?" or "Will you marry me?" or "Do you have any contagious diseases?".

This is in case of a life threatening situation. If you and another person are stranded on a four feet lifeboat, a few hundred miles from land, refuse to row, until you've been designated as "Captain of the ship". If the other person is an MBA, immediately designate him as "Captain" (or he'll refuse to row). If both of you are MBA's jump off and try to swim for land. It'll be faster.

Let us all in our prayers tonight, bow down to the infinite wisdom of the lord god, who put the idea into someone's head, of creating something called the 'MBA'.

A parting word to the wise. Never forget Clint Eastwood's eternal words in "Dirty Harry" - "Opinions are like a#*e holes, everybody's got one."

Gizmo Queens, Tax Evaders, Aliens and Spanish Inquisitions

O all ye exorcizers come and exorcize now, and ye clergymen draw nigh and clerge,

For I wish to be purged of an urge.

It is an irksome urge, compounded of nettles and glue,

And it is turning all my friends back into acquaintances, and all my acquaintances into people who look the other way when I heave into view.

It is an indication that my mental buttery is butterless and my mental larder lardless,

And it consists not of "Stop me if you've heard this one," but of "I know you've heard this one because I told it to you myself, but I'm going to tell it to you again regardless,"

Yes I fear I am living beyond my mental means.

When I realize that it is not only anecdotes that I reiterate but what is far worse, summaries of radio programs and descriptions of caroons in newspapers and magazines.

I want to resist but I cannot resist recounting the bright sayins of celebrities that everybody already is familiar with every word of; I want to refrain but cannot refrain from telling the same audience on two successive evenings the same little snatches of domestic gossip about people I used to know that they have never heard of.

When I remember some titlating episode of my childhood I figure that if it's worth narrating once it's worth narrating twice, in spite of lackluster eyes and dropping jaws,

And indeed I have now worked my way backward from titllating episodes in my own childhood to titillating episodes in the childhood of my parents or even my parents-in-laws,

And what really turns my corpuscles to ice,

I carry around clippings and read them to people twice.

And I know what I am doing while I am doing it and I don't want to do it but I can't help doing it and I am just another Ancient Mariner,

And the prospects for my future social life couldn't possibly be barrener.

Did I tell you that the prospects for my future social life couldn't be barrener?

"So Does Everybody Else, Only Not So Much" - Ogden Nash

Couldn't have put it more succintly myself. Forget about my 'future' social life getting barren, even my current one seems to be getting less fertile. Why else would I blog? Ha Ha. That said, let us begin.

Actually I must be losing my social charm. Yes, This is me and I am saying what you read in the last sentence. Go back and read it if you don't believe me. It'll still say the same thing. What made me come to this earth shattering conclusion? Well, a lot of things the last of which was my weekly train pilgrimage to Chennai. Started on a Friday, and the omens were definitely not good. I had resolved to try and reduce my smoking, which in itself is a very bad omen for me, because it makes me very crabby and restless. Well, you say, you're a crabby and restless old geezer anyway! Ah, yes gentle reader, be that as it may, this particular fact has a bearing on the tale I'm about to relate. So please keep bearing with me.

I got on to the auto to get to the station and got stuck in the traffic. Aren't you tired of hearing that about Bangalore? Yes, you say? Good. Then you can hear it again. I got stuck in traffic. And again. I got stuck in traffic. Hopefully I have milked that point for all its worth, and will proceed.If you think I haven't please do let me know and I will correspond with you personally and repeat that line a hundred times. It helps getting things out of your system, y'know? This time my getting stuck in traffic was made even more enjoyable by the fact that, I got stuck behind a truck. Well, we all do that, so whats so special about you, you may ask? In fact if you haven't gotten bored already and showing great perseverance have reached this point of the narrative, you'd have to be an extremely considerate person not to ask that question. Or pretty dumb, come to think of it. This was one of those tanker type trucks and had a sign which said 'Danger - Inflammable material'.

What it should have said was 'Stop breathing or You'll regret it'. Ever been in a class room where your benchmate had beans for lunch? A lot of beans? And the fan was not working? Let me tell you, that class room was heaven compared to what it smelt like in the auto. I mean, I have a serious doubt whether it was inflammable material or hazardous chemical waste of some sort, that the truck was carrying. The kind of chemical waste that makes teenage mutant Ninja's out of turtles. You know the sort I'm talking about. That was one concept I never could figure out anyway. I mean teenage turtles are bad enough. The one's on Discovery are only interested in eating seaweed and having sex (ostensibly with other teenage turtles). They very rarely seem to call in for pizza's. But mutant teenagers who're turtles and also Ninja's? Whoa... I can tell how much LSD the creator of those characters must have been on...

Anyways, arrived at the station with my sinuses clogged up. Nothing that an industrial strength drain cleaner couldn't have rectified, after repeated applications (say twenty three or so times). And a whacking great head ache. As luck would have it, bumped into one of my B-School classmates and her friend. We got talking about jobs, and when the friend heard I was with an IT company, she asked me a lot of questions on a career in IT. The regular reader's of this blog will know how comfortable I am with technology, and as for the newbie's suffice to say that I am as technology savvy as you'd like to have a root canal done. Without anesthetics. But alas, my ego got the better of me and I answered the questions posed, with great wit and wisdom, for half an hour. I just hope she didn't take them at face value. I did tell her at the end of the conversation that my wide and varied experience in the IT field was all of two months, though. I somehow don't think it increased my equity with her tremendously. In fact, post the information on my short IT career, it must have fallen like Enron stock after the bankruptcy announcement.

Luckily the train arrived and saved me the necessity of being stared at like the insect found mixed up in the tambram mama's curd rice (Only by the friend, and not by everyone else at the station. That bit comes later). Its called the Shataabdi (the train, not the insect), which translates into 'anniversary' (I think), and also 'the train that is as comfortable as having someone stick a pin into your backside' (I'm sure). Boo had traveled by this epitome of comfort and gave me rave reviews on the culinary accomplishments of the catering coach. I was really looking forward to the journey (Little did I know). I've got to get even with her one of these days. Probably convince her about a skiing holiday in the Sahara or a clubbing and pubbing holiday in Afghanistan or some such, and send her off. Before getting in, as usual, I checked the passenger list to a.) ensure that I had been recorded in the manifesto as a 'male' and also of the correct age. Proving these two, if they've been put down wrongly is rather embarrassing in public and the former more so than the latter. Especially if you have a loud Railway official, demanding proof. And b.) hopefully check if the person next to me was female and went by the name of Isabelle Adjani or Salma Hayek. Situation a.) has happened more often than situation b.)

I got onto the train, in the AC compartment after being poked and prodded in various places by the luggage of various people, who seemed doubtful about their seats vanishing into thin air if they didn't get on in thirty seconds. By virtue of being thin, I managed to get in, in one piece. 'You can never be too thin or too rich' as the Duchess of windsor once said to me in a personal communique.

The lady next to me was of obvious tambram vintage ( I should know, I'm one of them myself. Besides I got to know her name while exploring the possibility of situation b.) described above). The man on the other side of my seat was around fiftyish. So in all innocent anticipation of an exciting journey, I smiled at both of them and clambered into my seat. I should have known it wouldn't go well from their stares in return. Made me seriously think about getting plastic surgery done. I mean if my being pleasant can evoke that kind of a response..... The lady was loaded with gizmo's and I immediately started getting rashes (refer para 5 above for my reaction to technology). She pulled out a laptop, which could have qualified for a home theatre system, or even just a theatre (it was that big) and started watching a movie.

Then I realised that the fan was on and combined with the AC this was creating to a column of cold air that seemed very pleased to crawl down my spine though my collar. I considered wearing my wind cheater and pulling on the hood, but realized that a 50 Cent lookalike would probably not be very welcome in the compartment, and besides would I'd look like an idiot (more so than I normally do. Why exacerbate things?). So gathered up courage and asked the gizmo queen to switch off the fan (she was hovering over the switch like protective mother). She stared at me like I'd made an indecent proposal and muttered 'Its hot'. Yeah right! It would've been hot if you were an Eskimo probably, but to normal Indian like me.... See what I meant about my social life earlier? Sat through the whole goddam journey hoping and praying for the fan to conk out.

She turned the laptop away so that I couldn't see the movie. At least she tried to, and considering the size of the bloody thing, this was an impossibility. I've seen people who had tickets to first day first shows of 'Sivaji', who were less conceited, and students watching their first porn flick who were less secretive, than her. It was bloody difficult not to watch the movie too, considering the fact that the bloody screen was almost covering half the compartment. I turned to the gentleman seated on the other side,, and a very shifty sort he was too. He was reading a book on taxation, obviously for the express purpose of avoiding them (Lets face it, do you know anyone who would read a book on taxes, just for entertainment on the train?). He was obviously someone to avoid.

By now the much vaunted food started arriving. The first course was a Sandwich. It just a little old and a little tough and crusty. I mean it must have been prepared somewhere in 2 B.C. As for the toughness, the Navy SEALS could have used it in their bullet proof vests instead of Kevlar. Managed to eat it though (one of the great achievements of my life, eating that sandwich). The next thing to come was Tomato soup. It had the delightful taste and consistency of th hot salt water I used to gargle with, during periods of throat infection. the high point was when the shifty man sitting next to me dropped the whole gunk of Amul butter provided for the sandwich into the soup and drank this stirring mixture. Very stirring it was. In fact, my whole stomach was stirring with horror at this combo. It was all I could do not to throw up into his lap.

Lay back and tried to meditate the way I had learnt in the deepest reaches of Tibet (see earlier post on kung fu for further info on this). And dinner arrived. There was a sabji, which seemed to contain some animal matter of an alien nature (it was a vegetarian dinner mind you) and a dal which seemed to contain some plant matter of alien nature. There was also another side dish, which contained indeterminate matter of alien nature (some where in in the evolution chain between animals and plants bought from a galaxy far, far, away probably?) Ate this also. You may marvel at my perseverance, but I had paid for the ticket after all, and all this came with the fare.

After all this persecution reached Chennai, feeling that the Spanish Inquisition should have been a picnic compared to the Shataabdi. Too bad they didn't have this train back in Spain. People would have confessed more easily, after a jaunt on it. Went home to hot Rasam, amazing Potato curry and Curd Rice. A proper dinner.

My life isn't all hardships, come to think of it...

Baths, Advertisements, Broomsticks and Roadtrips

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

Hamlet in 'Hamlet'- Shakespeare

Well he was one confused dude, he was. Hamlet, I mean, not the good ol' Speare Shaker. It gives me a lot of solace reading Hamlet. And that said , let us begin.

I have been rather lax in updating my blog and the masses were clamoring for more outside my door and refusing to accept my excuse that I was suffering from a serious case of 'writers block'. No, that has nothing to do with irregular bowel movements, or anything that can be cured with a good laxative. More of a 'mental' thing. Having thus established my credentials as a 'writer' in a fatuous manner, I shall proceed.

There's only one person I know who's more confused than Hamlet. Thats moi, yes, me. I wait for you to recover from the shock of being told that someone of my bearing can actually get confused. That is but natural. Let me explain. Whether it is because of my 'brought up' (thats Tamil for 'bringing up' in English, usually pronounced 'braat uppei'), being a standard 1974 model of Tambram stock, or some congenital reason, I get confused rather easily. Take baths for example. I don't mean your taking a bath will make this easier to understand, let me hasten to add. What I'm saying is that even taking a bath can get confusing. Ever been to a hotel that has a bath tub? They usually have around thirty different knobs and levers, combinations of which make the water flow from various places. To my luck I've never been able to figure them out. I always end up standing in the tub and twisting knobs to get the batch tub filled up with hot water, and the next thing I know I have an icy cold shower of water running down from the shower. It always happens. Always. Its a very enriching experience, let me tell you, when you have ice cold water pouring on your head, when you least expect it. Makes you recall all those swear words you thought you forgot, in languages you never knew you could speak. They even have phone extensions in the bathrooms in some of these places. I can't for the life of me, understand why. To answer nature's call presumably?

To compound things, my flat here in Bangalore also has bathrooms of the same type. The knobs for the hot and cold showers turn in different directions. I always get confused about which one turns which way, resulting in either a scalding hot or ice cold shower. Suffice to say that the neighbour's kids are learning a lot of new words every time I go take a bath. I just hope their parents don't realize where they're picking it up from. I can't run tuition classes for adults who want to learn more expletives. I'd rather reserve the curses for the bathing expedition.

To Mrudula's everlasting irritation, I can't make up my mind on which channel to watch on the telly. A typical evening of confused TV watching usually goes like this:

'flip'

Motorcycle Ad: Dude dressed in black leather and helmet drives out of a thirteenth floor window. Why? Was he in an IT company, on the bench for too long? Did he listen to too much of Himesh Reshammiya? I can't figure it out. More importantly how did he manage to take the bike up to the thirteenth floor, into some office? I could use that kind of knowledge. Every time I want to go up, all the six lifts in my office are already on their way up, on a floor above mine. Anyways, dude survives miraculously. Goes to the edge of the cliff, pivots on a wheel over the edge and drives off. Presumably, his daily routine before going home and eating curd rice. Who knows? Next scene: A doctor types is asking him "Do you think you are ready for your next mission?" Motorcycle moron replies "Thinking, is such a waste of time". Yeah right, genius. And this is supposed to tempt me into buying this brand of motorcycles? I'm confused.

'flip'

Another motorcycle Ad: Dude is riding one of the 'new generation' bikes. He suddenly becomes the 'superhuman amoeba biker man'. He splits himself effortlessly into five of himself and they all race each other. 'These stunts are performed by experts' the subtitle very kindly says.'Viewers are advised not to imitate'. Yes, that should be easy. When you're stuck in the Bangalore Traffic, all viewers will be really tempted to try and split into two. A very calming mental excercise, obviously. And who are these experts who can split themselves into replicas, so easily? Anyways all five Amoeba men merge back into one, and then a copy of the bike suddenly emerges from a lake nearby and takes off into the sky. Is it just me or was the director of this ad on hallucinogenics, wasted beyond all scope? I'm confused.

'flip'

Holiday package Ad: A couple and their two children arrive at the holiday spot. The irritatingly cheerful backgound song goes 'You arrive, you happy, You messy, you happy'. Is that bad grammar or are they using Jamaican Patois? Search me. The family keeps smiling. Obviously these guys have never been on a real holiday. The people who made the ad, I mean. Fifteen minutes into the holiday, the brats should have started screaming and whining, and the couple should have started fighting. Welcome to the real world dude. The family is finally closeted in a small tent, I wouldn't put my dog in. Its raining like mad, and their lunch is delivered there by another cheerful guy with an umbrella. The amount of cheerfulness makes me puke. You no play ad please, We very very happy? I'm confused.

'flip'

Another Harry Potter News Flash: Aaaaaaarghhhhhh!!! A lady reporter in one of those wizard hats and robes is reporting on the forthcoming book. Well, either the poor deluded woman thinks its the high point of fashion, or she's being paid extremely well, or she just plain belongs to the loony bin. I wouldn't be caught dead in a ditch, wearing that outfit. Actually there's a lot about Harry Potter that also confuses me. What kind of a person would whiz around at speeds of mach one with a stick between his legs?? If you ask me, thats a definite no no. I mean, I get uncomfortable on a flight in fifteen minutes. The only kind of person who would try to fly that way would have to be really into pain or just absolutely dumb (the type who wouldn't recognize smart if it came up behind him and bit him in the butt). Or maybe he just couldn't pay for his family planning operation, and took this way out? I'm confused.

Actually there are two guys I know, who can rival me when it comes to getting confused, especially in terms of directions - Adi and Sandy. I remember when we took our road trip in Sandy's car driving all around South India. Half the time we didn't know whether we were coming or going. Bangalore was the crowning glory in this trip. What with directions all being 'Straaightu to dead endu and leftu' and us being sozzled half the time, we ended up seeing the city in greater detail than any human being would want to. We tried all remedies. We figured out that all the people were wantonly misguiding us and took the exact opposite directions. We thought about which was our left and which the 'dead endu and leftu' dude's left (We were high and this line of thought led to considerable disagreement betwixt us). We assumed very correctly that all roads in Bangalore should lead to M.G Road and ten minutes of driving any which way should bring us there anyway. But none of it worked. We finally resorted to asking for directions every hundred yards or so, which didn't make us very popular with the other commuters. Then we ended up asking the same auto driver thrice for directions at various points, in a span of half a kilometre (by mistake, we caught up with him and it being dark we didn't realize it was the same person). He expressed very concisely, his doubts about the legitimacy of our conceptions, and those of three generations before us, not mention his opinion of our IQ levels. We stopped asking for directions after that.

This however had its own downsides. We arrived in front of Forum (a huge mall, the landmark we remembered) to visit Sandy's property where there was building going on. To our shock and dismay, it was no longer there(the property, not the mall). We first argued amongst ourselves on the landmarks which had been there earlier, which now seemed to have disappeared. But then we realized that not only the landmarks but the streets and the street names had also changed. We were stunned by the pace of development in Bangalore. To take down a building is one thing, but to transplant a whole area! We considered suing the government for loss of property. The least they could have done was to inform poor Sandy. We commiserated with him. Some more beer was called for and consumed. Then we undertook our own jihad, we would find Sandy's property no matter what, whether it existed or not. After another twenty minutes of inspired searching and badgering poor pedestrians into admitting that this was a different area, we gave up. Thats when it dawned on us that we should be looking at the rear entrance side of the mall, on the parallel road. We were on the wrong side. What can I say? We were confused.