Madam, I’m Adam

At work today, I have recruitment posters to put together. One of our points was that our system is “non-hierarchical”. Interesting, since actually, that’s not really possible right? We still have out go-to people,¬†aka bosses, supervisors and directors. We still sit with the common folk at cubicles, while those above us get pretty glass cabins with views of the outskirts of Chennai, and parking spaces.

Still, one of the company’s most popular selling points is their lack of hierarchy – you join us and you never need call anyone ‘sir‘ or ‘madam‘ again. Well that’s the idea anyway. All over Chennai, people seem to demand this strange amount of…what is it? Respect? I still don’t understand why they prefer to be called titles instead of their own names. Everyone is a ‘sir‘ or a ‘madam‘, no matter who they are or how old they are. When you’re at work, even your best bud’s ‘ma’am‘ to you, and that just makes life awkward. I make it a point never to call people anything, and try using names with a Mr. or a Mrs. attached to them if necessary. However, there are cases where I fear for my life, and so might have say a ‘sir’ once in a while. My last boss was the reincarnation of Satan, and possibly a little bit of Hitler, for he was small in size. Although¬†I managed to get away with not using his name at all (clever me!), I can imagine that if I ever called him Mr. M_, I would probably have been booted out way before I actually resigned.

It’s quite funny really when you meet people at work, or anywhere in general, and they give you this respect you just don’t need. What do you say to them, especially when they’re your age, or old enough to be your mother, and you’re calling them Bob? Why did this whole system start anyway, just because I’m Madam Meg doesn’t mean I get my way! (See my gas story – the old hag called me madam and a liar)

Some mysteries never get solved.

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