Warning: Extremely Loo..ong post ahead.
Match-making is not child’s play; shortlisting a profile is one thing, horoscopes matching is another. The horoscopes matched with a certain guy. One thing led to another and they decided to “meet up”.
Neesu and Neelu were rather surprised to know that I hadn’t done any background research on the guy. So we unsuccessfully tried to search for him on the “profile viewed” section on tamil-matri, we found a rather toned down profile on linkedin and facebook.
The band and the baaja entered with a bang, the missing component was a baraat . We were locked in my room, and were given strict instructions not to make any noise. Adi was strategically made to sit with the band because I wanted “insiders’ scoop”. The conversations had started; people were laughing randomly, the customary exchange of pleasantries and all that jazz. The shy, coy, reserved, chamathu Iyer girl was summoned with a serving plate with coffee tumblers arranged in a row. I heard Adi chuckle to himself.
With all the tamasha happening, the band decided that I must have a chat with the CA boy.
Thus the Manufacturing Process began.
For starters, the guy was on auto-pilot mode. From driving the car at 20kmph, to making small talk. The guy had come prepared with a set of questions. I think these matchmaking people have a ready recokner of sorts; how else can you explain the slew of predictable questions and equally predictable answers from his side? I think his mom would’ve trained him for a week before the big day, plus he was a chartered accountant - so the attempt of trying to tally the balance sheet was quite evident.
From the minute we stepped into the coffee shop until we left – he never let go of his auto-pilot mode of transmission. The person who programmed his brain cells should’ve been some Microsoft / Oracle Certified Software Professional. The function number-1 defined on the program was – about himself. It was a paragraph of “self proclamation”.
Neesu and Adi intercepted him with their slew of questions. Everything from what are your hobbies, how do you spend your weekends, are you a foodie, etc; were fielded pretty well. The two of them took total control of the situation, tried to make him comfortable, cracked jokes worth laughing at. In a nutshell they were pulling his legs, literally.
The guy decided; it is better to give in than fight it out. Thus began the “mee-too war”. He was on a futile mission to prove that he was one among us – outspoken, outgoing, fun loving and bunch of go-getters.
You needn’t be an expert at behavioural sciences to understand that the guy was faking it. He was none of the above; he was your standard guy – grew up in a suburb, a proper hen-pecked guy, an absolute bookworm who knew zilch about the outside world.
The junta then decided that the guy and I should have a private chat. The tallying the balance sheet process had begun – the monologue began. The guy showed no interest in knowing anything about me. He rattled a lot about himself including the fact that he scored 95 in Maths in class 10. After every paragraph, there was a short pause; more like “any questions/ any doubts?”
The guy was amazingly fixed in terms of ideas and thought process. PS: He admits that he doesn’t drink anything but Aztec in CCD. WTF man! If you can’t experiment with something as simple as coffee, what is the assurance that you will try something like “chakkarai Pongal flavoured ice cream” at Saravana Bhavan?. Forget Ice creams and coffee, the guy was just plain rigid. He wanted me to work, I gave him an indirect answer that I don’t see myself in corporate slaughterhouses for way too long.
At one point the pause was a little longer, so I decided to showcase my oratory skills – only with a better accent and flawless English.
With this, my interest dwindled and the values were in negative by the time we left the coffee shop. I had made a mental note of rejecting the guy; the wavelengths did not match.
The manufacturing process had then come to a grinding halt.
Just when we were leaving the coffee shop, the guy looks at Adi and said “Adi, I like you man”. Poor Adi was shell-shocked for the rest of the evening.
But what had me shell-shocked was the fact that, this guy had made it to the good books of the man in question (Appa); which is as good as Vashishtar Vaayal Brahma-Rishi.
PS: I don’t mean to demean the guy, this was my personal opinion. Frankly speaking, I wasn’t impressed. He mentioned that he pursued his B.Com and CA, symmetrically. Yeah, you read that right.
PS1: this guy was plain boring. There was absolutely no mental connect whatsoever. I’m not talking about “Hosanna in the background”, I’m talking about simple common interests or atleast a platform with some scope for improvement.
PS2: The poor little CA was a little taken aback when he realised I was not the demure one. He wasn’t able to come to terms with the fact that I was actually way too outgoing, a little too outspoken, forward thinking and not his type.
PS3: it’s ok CA boy, I totally second your opinion, I dint like you either. I’m sure you’ll find your demure woman from Meenakshi College who has passed her B.Com with distinction.
PS4: The guy’s family called and we turned down the request last Sunday. We were mourning the loss of my Paati, but we truly celebrated the rejection.