Of diamonds and car dealers...

I don't know how I end up getting into situations, but the price you have to pay for being the junior-most in your organisation (I wasn't the junior-most, but then the girl who was quit, a victime of the current Mumbai media madness) and thus I end up getting buggered from behind. Anyway, I ended up going to Prasad Chambers off Charni Road Station where in a dilapidated old building a Rs 20,000 crore industry has made its headquarters - the Indian Diamond trading industry. Travelling inside a pan-stained lift (and I have now come to the conclusion that until Indian men stop painting half the country with pan stains, the country will remain dommed to mediocrity) you really have little idea that you might be waling into the office of a man who can probably afford a diamond studded crapper. Of course, the person I met has his brands endorsed by some stunning women, and somehow sitting across the table you keep on thinking, "Man this fat guy must get a lot more sex in a week than I will ever get in my life!" Seriously, that was the only thing running across my mind during the entire conversation, that and the fact that there quite a few stones on his table. Well, but then again the guy was rather sweet and he did give me a lot of gyaan about diamonds. And also indirectly let me know that I will never be able to afford one in the near future! Sigh!
But its weird, you do sometimes end up meeting some rather strange people and while I thought I would some fat, pan-chewing Sethji, I got to meet a fat but well-educated young chap. Not as upsetting as my meeting with a particular Skoda dealer in Delhi. Not only was the man an obnoxious fart (our meeting was rather acrimonious - the man used to import Toyota cars take out the stylised 'T' Toyota logo and replace it with a stylised 'L' signifying Lexus - however the SatNav display was a giveaway), but I subsequently saw him or rather avoided him at all sorts of nightclubs around Delhi. Fat, ugly, son of a bitch used to cruise clubs to pick up women, with a big fat cigar in his mouth. Well, the reason I started hating him even more was when at one such 'club' encounter - Athena at the Park Royale I think, he said, "You journalists have a lot of money to go clubbing at places like this." I said something to the effect that we don't have money (well, it was a friends birthday and I wasn't paying jackshit) but we have "Class", even though I said that through clenched teeth, because it was a blatent lie. Journalist+Nightclub+Delhi=impossible. Also Journalist never equals to class, that would really be the day! Well, unless it was a lifestyle reporter or me.
However, I did have the last laugh. Said dealer found out parentage, and how I had advised one particular parent to advise friends (in big circular building in central Delhi) that Skoda's are a awfully downmarket brand in the West. You know how things spread among people who frequent that big, circular building! Heh, heh! However, on the same note I should get Hyundai to pay me a commission because I must've indirectly sold six Terracan's for them again to people who frequent big circular building (lets call it BCB for easy reference). Must broach the subject sometime.
Google and horny Indian men are really giving traffic stats at my site a huge bump. Leave some comments yo!