Chapter 3: Office Politics and the IOU

The boss had asked me to prepare the layoff list, and my colleague’s name was on it. I’d sat up late, list open, thinking, "Yeh toh itna bhi bura nahi hai. Chhod deta hoon." Maybe it was sentimentality, or maybe just that old habit—trying to save everyone but myself.

"The money’s been transferred," I told him, "but it’s already in my mother’s hospital account."

"Dekho, bhai, paisa toh Amma ke account mein daal diya hai. Hospital ka bill hai, majboori thi." I tried to sound reasonable, hoping he’d get it.

He went red and snapped, "Why are you using my money for your mom?" Almost hyperventilating, he spat, "Maine tujhe diya tha, uske liye nahi! Family ka toh alag hi scene hai!"

I actually laughed out of sheer anger—sometimes you have to laugh, otherwise you’ll explode. In our country, we say, "Beizzati ka jawaab hans ke do." That’s what I did.

"I paid for the meal. You didn’t spend a paisa. If we were splitting the bill, I’d give you half. But why should I foot the bill and you still get half the compensation?" My tone was calm, but inside, I was boiling. "Tu toh ek paisa bhi nahi kharch kiya tha, bhai. Agar bill split hota toh main deta. Lekin main hi kharch karun, aur tu bhi aadha le? Kya logic hai yeh?"

He wasn’t backing down. "Barbeque Nation compensated every customer. I ate there too. I was a victim, so I deserve compensation. Main bhi toh wahaan tha, dosto. Toh mujhe bhi paisa milna chahiye, hai na? Justice hona chahiye, boss!" He looked around for support; some nodded as if this was a TV courtroom.

I couldn’t be bothered to argue further. By now, others had overheard and started chiming in, urging me to let it go. There was a beat of silence, broken only by the whir of the ceiling fan, before the suggestions started flying.

"We’re all colleagues, don’t fight over it. Just give him a share."

A senior uncle from accounts piped up, "Beta, paisa dosti mein kya dekhte ho? Zindagi choti hai, let it go."

"If it really bothers you, just give him a thousand," someone suggested.

A girl from marketing I’d never spoken to said, "Arrey, thousand mein ho jayega. Usko bhi accha lagega, aapko bhi tension nahi hoga."

Hearing all this, I sneered inwardly. How generous people are—when it’s not their money at stake. I looked at their faces, ticking off each one in my mind. "Wah bhai wah, sab ke sab Bill Gates ke rishtedaar lag rahe ho." I really needed to avoid these types, or I’d get caught in their storms too.

My dad always said, "Bure waqt mein saath chhodne waale log pehle hi pehchaan lo." His words echoed in my mind, right here in this office.