Indian Ameri
Wednesday
Explain your Mom!
But yesterday night/early morning, for the first time I encountered the third class of an audience. Well statistically saying, this class of representatives in fact is comprised of one sole leader and that sole leader is the only sole person in the class. I would call this class as “The Mom!”
As Elmer Fudd would say “Ssshhhhh….. Be veri veri careful. Wabbit footprints” Mom’s have this unique ability to judge the level of work load, just by noticing your waist line. The smaller the waist line (you might be dancing flamingos but not her) the longer the cribbing of “eat your meal on time. Don't skip it.” If you think, using technical jargon might throw her off the board, then you guessed wrong. Remember, that she used to help you with your homework when you didn’t even know what science meant. You give her an apt idea of what your research might do in the future, 'Bham' you’re a sitting duck. She’ll start becoming your secretary and might organize even your future experiments (at least my mom can). There are numerous factors that come into the picture while talking to your mom. But the important one is, she should never know how hard (on the contrary sometimes even the amount of fun) your working.
Make sure that you give her the end goal, a prospective public-affection, a profitable materialization from your intellectual fantasy, and a few analogies related to your native past. The best would be to utilize past examples involving human emotions, pains, lives, etc and giving her the beyond black-hole perspective based on your accessible research to serve humanity.
I did a job, perfect enough, over a wireless period of sixty minutes that at the end, she turned into a socially-concerned-son-sacrificing-mom. In her words, “You make this work for humanity. That is the biggest gift you can give me. Take your time and don’t think of anything else”
Taking advantage of the situation I asked her, “Anything?” for which she replied “Anything Kanna!” An evil villain’s wide angled smirk appeared under my bed sheet and in the next ten seconds I made a deal with her and bid goodbye on the phone.
Wiping the imaginary sweat of my brow under my sheets, I thought “Bachelor life for the next many years. Awesome dude. Nice deal. Two thumbs up!!” =))
1 Comments:
:) All Mom's are the same, then!
Although, in my case, I'd think she'd be too ashamed to present me before a 'girl' for 'alliance'! ("He doesn't even comb his hair" she mutters.)
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