<div>Some years ago, I was employed at a multinational BPO company where my overall attitude and mindset were, unfortunately, far from satisfactory. Even people bending over backwards to be perfect did not meet with my exalted standards. In short, I complained, ranted, cribbed and sulked at all and sundry, displaying a far from congenial disposition.<br /><br />I complained when it was hot, humid and stifling in summer and when the air-conditioners in our office were finally installed, I grumbled that it was too cold! I complained about the shift system which made our biological clocks go haywire due to changes in timings of sleep, meals and bowel movements. I complained about climbing flights of stairs to reach the various floors and when asked, “Why not use the lift?”, I cribbed that the lift was always jam-packed and crowded! I complained when our work load became research-based, intellectual and challenging, yet later when it involved typing, filing records and arranging folders, I whined that the work was unnecessarily of a “clerical nature”!<br /><br />“Good gracious me!” exclaimed my colleague, Joice, “You really are hard to please!” I retorted, “But am I not justified in pointing out the loopholes in order for them to be rectified and set right?” <br /><br />“Yes, but you are a bit over the top when it comes to complaints. Come, let’s go out for a cup of tea, for I want you to open your eyes,” averred Joice. “Bingo, let’s go!” I exclaimed.<br />We set out on her scooter, me riding pillion. I noticed Joice had veered off the usual route passing commercial complexes, shopping malls and swanky restaurants and instead stopped at a nondescript small restaurant. The waiters were poor, yet they were doing a commendable job of serving.<br /><br />Outside the restaurant kitchen, I saw a physically challenged young man seated on a wheelchair having just stumps for legs. Yet, surprisingly, though fate had dealt him an cruel blow, he looked pleasant and cheerful and devoid of grudges. He had not given up on life in a dispirited fashion nor was he wallowing in self-defeating pity. Instead, he was using his able hands to cut vegetables in small, equal pieces with a huge knife.<br /><br />Joice looked at me. I had become quiet, thoughtful and completely shaken. She said, “Now do you realise your mistake of complaining and cribbing? God has given you everything and yet for every inconsequential thing, you grimace and make a long face. Instead, count your blessings, one by one, and remember what the Lord has done.”<br /><br />I glanced again at the physically challenged man still cutting the vegetables adroitly, and tears began streaming down my face. “It’s OK, Heera,” said Joice gently, adding, “Let the beautiful words of George Bernard Shaw ring and reverberate in your mind every time you are tempted to complain: I was in the blues because I had no shoes/ Until upon the street, I saw a man with no feet.” I cried.</div>
<div>Some years ago, I was employed at a multinational BPO company where my overall attitude and mindset were, unfortunately, far from satisfactory. Even people bending over backwards to be perfect did not meet with my exalted standards. In short, I complained, ranted, cribbed and sulked at all and sundry, displaying a far from congenial disposition.<br /><br />I complained when it was hot, humid and stifling in summer and when the air-conditioners in our office were finally installed, I grumbled that it was too cold! I complained about the shift system which made our biological clocks go haywire due to changes in timings of sleep, meals and bowel movements. I complained about climbing flights of stairs to reach the various floors and when asked, “Why not use the lift?”, I cribbed that the lift was always jam-packed and crowded! I complained when our work load became research-based, intellectual and challenging, yet later when it involved typing, filing records and arranging folders, I whined that the work was unnecessarily of a “clerical nature”!<br /><br />“Good gracious me!” exclaimed my colleague, Joice, “You really are hard to please!” I retorted, “But am I not justified in pointing out the loopholes in order for them to be rectified and set right?” <br /><br />“Yes, but you are a bit over the top when it comes to complaints. Come, let’s go out for a cup of tea, for I want you to open your eyes,” averred Joice. “Bingo, let’s go!” I exclaimed.<br />We set out on her scooter, me riding pillion. I noticed Joice had veered off the usual route passing commercial complexes, shopping malls and swanky restaurants and instead stopped at a nondescript small restaurant. The waiters were poor, yet they were doing a commendable job of serving.<br /><br />Outside the restaurant kitchen, I saw a physically challenged young man seated on a wheelchair having just stumps for legs. Yet, surprisingly, though fate had dealt him an cruel blow, he looked pleasant and cheerful and devoid of grudges. He had not given up on life in a dispirited fashion nor was he wallowing in self-defeating pity. Instead, he was using his able hands to cut vegetables in small, equal pieces with a huge knife.<br /><br />Joice looked at me. I had become quiet, thoughtful and completely shaken. She said, “Now do you realise your mistake of complaining and cribbing? God has given you everything and yet for every inconsequential thing, you grimace and make a long face. Instead, count your blessings, one by one, and remember what the Lord has done.”<br /><br />I glanced again at the physically challenged man still cutting the vegetables adroitly, and tears began streaming down my face. “It’s OK, Heera,” said Joice gently, adding, “Let the beautiful words of George Bernard Shaw ring and reverberate in your mind every time you are tempted to complain: I was in the blues because I had no shoes/ Until upon the street, I saw a man with no feet.” I cried.</div>
