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Coming up the driveway

“It is your uncle,” my wife said.  I looked up from the newspaper and sure enough, it was my Uncle coming up the driveway. At least the face resembled the uncle I knew. The rest of him looked different. He was dressed in saffron robes. Around his neck were beads, giant ones, the kind that could replace your car wheels. I wondered where he found them. My wife and I were sitting in our garden, enjoying a brief pause from the rain, and drinking a cup of hot tea.  Before we could run inside and shut the door, he caught us.  “Divine blessings, my child!” Uncle said. I looked all around and finding no one else, guessed he was addressing us. “What?” I said. That was all I managed, before he started. “May the cosmic light of knowledge, shine upon you. I am the past, the present, and the future. The… Coming up the driveway

woman raising her hands up while sitting on floor with macbook pro on lap

The scam called remote working

Before fans of remote working attack me for titling this post the scam called remote working , allow me to clarify my position. I have been working remotely for most of the last two decades. Before the pandemic, before zoom came into existence, I was holding the torch for remote workers. Remote working saves you the time you would otherwise waste commuting to the office. Unless you love waiting for hours in traffic jams, or needling your way into jam-packed suburban trains, you should prefer remote working.  Working from home, you are up-to-date on the neighborhood gossip. Every morning you get to snigger as poor sods in the neighborhood balance pot-bellies, briefcases, lunch boxes and try to fit into their cars while you are still in your pajamas enjoying your second cup of tea. It is relaxing as you set your working hours.  In my case, I have the habit… The scam called remote working

The old man from the first floor flat

“How dare you park your car before my house?”Startled, I looked up from the phone. It was the old man from the first floor flat. He was shouting at me.  “What?” I started to speak when he continued. “Your car is parked right before my gate.” I always park ahead of a gray colored gate. Last night I may have parked in front. “I am sorry, I will move it.” “Don’t you have any civic sense,” I wanted to respond, but I was the culprit here. As I walked towards his house, he followed me, continuing his tirade.  As we neared the car, I reached for the keys. It was not in my pocket. I checked all the pockets, even the shirt pocket. Then I remembered. I had sold my car the previous day. I was travelling by bus today, I had forgotten all about it.  Turning around, I smiled… The old man from the first floor flat