Now, Thalassa told me in the comments of one of my posts long ago that solicitation - y'know for 'nefarious' reasons was illegal. Which kind of ruled out any possibility of me becoming a pimp. This made me quite sad, but then again, you don't need a feather boa, more bling than Bappida (no maybe a bit less than Bappida - Bappida is THE role model for practioners of bling) and more gold than bone in my teeth. Of course, in a place like Delhi, being a pimp is quite an honourable position it seems - after all members of the country club that is the Rajya Sabha have to be 'entertained' after all. Anyway....
In the past, what, six-odd years since I left that hallowed institution, which doubled up as a nice, warm womb - protecting me from the vagaries of reality. I've been helping people get jobs for no monetary consideration to myself. I am, as Pierce Brosnan says in The Matador, 'A Facilitator'. But while, Brosnan got paid shitloads of money and got to kill people, sometimes I don't even get a 'Thank You' from either of the parties involved. Its not only the people I work for where I have to do people hunting. I've placed people in various media companies where I either know people or people know me - both proactive and reactive placements.
A typical request would be like "K, do you know someone who would fit into our desk?" or "I need someone in production, K do you know someone?" or "K, listen we need eye-candy, desperately. Do something."
And my question to all them is, "Why, me?"
Why do people I haven't spoken to in months, think of me whenever they are going through a human-resources cruch, or they remember me when they need stuff to smoke. Sometimes both, because this is the media after all. The foll0wing conversation, while a work of fiction is representative of what I have to endure...
Caller : "Hi"
Me : "Who is this?"
C : "I'm so-and-so, you know we met at that party that Shades threw in Def Col"
Me : "We did?"
C : "Ya, remember I was the guy cutting lines in the toilet"
Me : "Oh"
... ten minutes of random pfiff-pfaff
C : "Accha coming to the point, do you know anyone wanting a job?"
Me : "As what, your left tatta?"
C : "That too, but I need some people to help out on the desk/production agency/TV channel."
Me : "Hmmm..."
C : "I mean, I need warm bodies essentially."
Me : "So talent is no big deal."
C : "Well, it would help if they had big tits, but guys would do as well. But they must speak english and come from a decent college, I just can't deal with ghatis."
(Strangely enough, the above line is like a permanent fixture in all requests like this. They always go, "Buddy/K/Dumbfuck, PLU's only, please.")
Me : "Hmmm.... I'll see what I can do."
C : "And while you're at it, you wouldn't happen to have any good shit would you?"
Me : "I hardly smoke nowadays."
C : "Whadayusayin Doooooood? The last time I met you that night you were kicking it."
Me : "That was an year ago"
C : "Ya, but... You know anyone who would know where I could get some nice shit from?"
Me : "Sigh...."
So, essentially, point being this, I have decided that I will start "K's Media Employment Agency". Hey, every idiot worth his salt has a Media School of some sort up and running, yet many people will not hire such graduates, preferring a BA (Pass) from a top-notch college to someone claiming a diploma course in 'Sting Operations'. I've said it before, the thappa you get makes a huge difference to your life, even in the media. That said, there some people in the premier TV channels who never even completed their graduation (in some cases lying about it), but they can speak good English and are PLU's, so well...
I currently have three people on my head with requests that I find them warm bodies (cold bodies would do as well for one of them, but the problem is that cold bodies can't move around or talk) to hire, but the problem is that there is almost nobody there to hire - and everybody you want to hire wants to become Woodward and Bernstein rolled into one, and overnight at that. Assuming the supply-demand curve is as dire as it looks, Journalism is up shit creek (even though this means that salaries will continue to rise). But, you do find one good apple every once in a while, and out of the blue sometimes. So, my role in the future of desi-English journalism may not be limited to writing a pointless blog and the occasional pointless feature.
On another note, someone also asked me how the Chevrolet Aveo was - well - I'm sure the automotive magazines will praise it to high heaven (particularly since General Motors tends to take people on frequent trips to the US to test cars - who cares if they have a huge hole in their pocket), but crash tests done by EuroNCAP bring out some dangerous aspects of the car. In fact, if you're going to die anyway - you might as well save three lakhs and buy a Maruti 800, and the car tested had side airbags. And of course, the advert featuring Saif and Rani sucks - so maybe people won't buy ther car anyway. But keep in mind, if you buy this car what you are getting is a Daewoo and a very unsafe one at that. Not that many of the other cars sold in India are much safer according to these tests which are backed by the FIA. Pity that safety isn't a major aspect when people buy cars in India. Buy a Suzuki Swift ZXi instead, no matter what the magazines say because it gets good ratings all around. Many thanks to the 'Bearded One' for enlightening me on this.