Friday, June 7, 2013

Arvind

Arvind was in his sixties, with a mid-level clerk position. He aspired to a higher position in another department with the goal of retiring shortly after attaining it (to increase his retirement benefits).
Arvind had just been given his own project, and control over two women in clerical who had been assigned to assist him. I was one. By way of introducing himself, he arrived at my desk with a photo album of his family, which he then went through, page by page, explaining each picture. He offered to leave it with me so I could look at it on my breaks.
I declined. Not because he did not have a lovely family, but because of his habit of jamming his fingers halfway up his nose while he was talking to me.
I wish I could say I’m exaggerating about the fingers/nose thing. I am prone to exaggeration. But this really happened, repeatedly. I would be having a conversation with this guy and he would aggressively pick his nose and then wipe his hand on his pants or shirt or the nearest surface.