I work in a new and fancy building complex with three several-story towers. It is surrounded on either side by construction sites which may end up being even fancier building complexes. I need to show my badge before entering. Several big companies have offices here, ours taking up a mere two floors of one of the towers, and there are always people around, with the possible exception of at my arrival a bit after 8am which is way too early for people to start work in India. Most people arrive at about 9:30am. Some work the noon to 9pm shift.
I can tell an architect designed this place and can imagine how elegant the awkward just-too-wide-for-a-step slats next to the main walkway must have looked on a drawing. There are a lot of fountains. (There is also a fountain in front of my apartment building.) Wait, this is Delhi right?
What water shortage?
Like many European and Asian companies, I sit in a bullpen compared to back home. Not much privacy. No one keeps many personal affects at their desks because of security but the desks get cleaned every night which is nice. Despite the close proximity, everyone has their cell phone set at a high volume. The first week I was here, I had the Red Hot Chili Peppers stuck in my head every day because of one guy’s ringtone. Could be worse. I usually have the tuneless jingles echoing in my head most of the day. So does a guy nearby, who is always whistling them, likely subconsciously. Naturally, I’ve decided to just join in and turn my ringer on as well, even though I’d normally be in vibrate-only. Can’t beat ’em, join ’em.
My Desk (center) vs. Conference Room
Like Japan, this is a very greeting-oriented and team-oriented culture. Everyone says good morning to everyone on their team when they arrive. The men shake hands with all the other men. And the whole team eats lunch together, when feasible. The daily lunch gathering made me feel instantly welcomed. (And gives me a good opportunity to pump my co-workers full of questions about India.)
There is a really nice seating area off the kitchen with a TV that is usually playing Bollywood videos all day, though once in a while has a cricket game going, which seems dangerous to productivity. Free tea, coffee, and RO (reverse-osmosis) filtered water are available as well as the occasional snack. But the microwave is a bit of a demon…
When you open the microwave… it turns on!
Apparently, I’m one of the few who care enough about not wanting my arm to be microwaved that I power off the plug before opening it to put my food inside. One woman tried to help me, thinking that the poor foreigner didn’t know how to properly use a microwave. Yeah, no, I’m just a paranoid freak.
We are not allowed to eat at our desks! I think I’ve had lunch in front of my computer almost every day for… years. Maybe decades. But not anymore! I mean, this is a good thing. Except when I am craving a chocolate snack and want to munch on it while I work. (I once snuck in a tiny piece of chocolate at my desk and oh, the sneaky guilt.) There is a food court in the basement for the entire complex with three food booths. South Indian, North Indian, and Pizza. (All with separate veg and non-veg options.) There are also two small coffee shops that have things like packaged sandwiches and chocolate bars, though the coffee comes out of the same machine we use upstairs. The average price for lunch is between $1 and $2. Okay. That is cheap. I admit it. And not bad.
One dollar lunch
Granted, the above meal would have looked even better if I had gotten the yogurt and veggies to go with it. But I’m already a picky eater. The yogurt is too sour for me and I don’t tend to trust veggies that I did not wash and cut myself. Otherwise, tastes pretty good. But notice the lack of fork. (You can get a spoon. Or even borrow a tray and spoon for your own brought-from-home lunch. But forks are hard to come by.) I bring lunch from home occasionally (read: leftover dinner), but here, there probably is not much of a price savings in doing so unlike back in Colorado where I spend upwards of $10-12 on those food trucks if I forget my lunch.
Like I read in one of my books, everyone shares their food! People take food off each other’s trays with or without asking. And they offer it often as well. Delhiites truly love their food. I’ve seen entire groups tightly bunched around a table, dipping their bread in whatever mysterious goodness is in the middle. No one has taken any food from my tray without asking, but maybe they know that I need time to get used to the idea.
And everyone eats as fast as I do! I’m a shoveler. Yet I’m not always the first done. And I’m not even doing that much talking, mostly listening to the Hinglish. We only take a half an hour sharp to eat. Not positive why.
My favorite part of the complex:
Trees in stairs!
Just outside the exit of the food court is the coolest area. You can almost pretend you are in a little forest for a while. Okay, architects, you did all right.
I think I am the only foreign woman (at least, obviously foreign) in the entire complex. I’ve seen the occasional white guy (and even chatted with a dude from Holland as I waited for my taxi) but not a woman. Men outnumber women by quite a few in both the complex and my company itself. I guess they seem to be tech-leaning companies.
One thing that surprised me was the dress code. The majority of people are in jeans! Even people that work at the other companies. I expected quite the opposite. Some people wear suits or slacks (and some women wear gorgeous Indian-style clothes) but most people are in casual wear! I like this mainly because I love my sneakers. I’ll wear business casual if you want me too, but lemme wear my sneakers.
The restrooms are western-style, except with a health faucet (a bidet) and a trash for toilet paper. The sinks have soap and a hand dryer. Important stuff. There is a washroom attendant I see sometimes, replacing the trash bags and so forth. She is one of the many unskilled workers with black uniforms always around the office from before I arrive until after I leave. I’ve heard this is very common of Indian companies, almost their duty: since there is high demand for ridiculously low-paying jobs, create some. There are several people whose responsibility it is to keep the kitchen clean, mop the floor, take out the trash, and keep the water & milk in the coffee machines full. (Back home, we do it ourselves because hiring someone would not be worth it.) There are always people outside the complex wiping the glass doors and scrubbing the tile floors.
There is also one guy whose entire duty it seems is to brush the carpet. I see him in a squatting position that makes my knees hurt to watch, brushing the carpet back and forth. Back and forth. I feel bad stepping on the freshly brushed carpet. But maybe he feels lucky to have this job? In a cushy air-conditioned environment with endless free water and tea? No idea.
The few company-wide emails that go out are interesting. The most common is along these lines:
“The owner of the car number mentioned in the subject line is requested to release the hand brakes of its vehicle parked outside the office premises.”
Because there are so few places to park, people who didn’t win the garage lottery have to park outside which often means double parking. But, to make that work, anyone blocking a car needs to leave their brake off so their car can be shifted. By far, the most nerve-racking-oh-yeah-I-live-in-a-CITY email was one where there were Trade Union strikes going on, some misbehavior and stone-throwing, and they advised every employee to stay indoors. I didn’t notice anything different myself, but my taxi did call ahead of time to say when he would be out there, so I would not have to wait outside. (This was before I got my phone.) My favorite email thread was one asking if anyone had any spare wickets.
There is a street food market right outside the complex. I have only ventured out there once (when all six of my team were with me) to get an unbelievably cheap chai with everyone. A couple beggars came up to me. Couldn’t tell if it was just me, the walking ATM, or if the others were approached as well. There was also a small boy running around, naked from the waist down. I think I’ll probably keep within the confines on the complex. It’s a zoo out there. No literally:
An urban sheep herd