October 14, 2010

Glasses, Interviews and Reasons Why I’m So Great

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[Note appended Jan. 24, 2011]


I’m not allowed to wear contacts anymore so now I’m forced to wear glasses. It’s sad because I used to look way hotter back in the day. On the plus side, they make me seem more intelligent, or as my younger brother eloquently put it, “you look less dumb now.”

Speaking of my face, my mugshot in the paper makes me look way too happy for my own good. It looks as if I spent all night waiting for Santa only to fall asleep and wake up in wearied joy to a Christmas tree filled with presents. Not that this picture is actually from that moment or anything, that would be err … ridiculous but for future reference, try picturing someone stoic, with piercing eyes, strong jaw and a wrinkled brow, as that sets the ideal tone of my columns. What I’m trying to say is that I’m an Indian Jon Hamm.

• There are two moments when I completely lose my grip on the English language: writing my column for The Sun, and answering interview questions. To give you an idea, here’s what I said during a recent Superday.

Interviewer: Thank you for coming, you look nice today.

Me: Thanks, your blouse is very unique … I mean I like the cut, umm … yeah, thanks.

Needless to say, I did not get the job. Our interview was spent with her giving me the death stare as she asked me to name share prices of several random companies. To my defense, you should have seen how frilly this blouse was. Plus she was hot.

I remember having a conversation about interview woes when a person said, “I nailed every behavioral and technical question, the interviews loved me and said I was a great fit, but I still got rejected.” Someone else replied, “Dude, you’re probably coming off as too polished. Maybe if you got a few questions wrong or talk about the woes of capitalism, they’ll see how different you are and pick you.” Yes, exactly, because investment bankers are looking for people that cannot answer technical problems and question the very foundation banks are built upon. As bitter and sarcastic as I sound, I will admit she’d make an ideal advice columnist for this paper.

• These are my ideal last words: “Leave the ammo. Don’t worry about me. I’ll hold them off for as long as I can.” But I’d also settle for: “Oh God. I can’t believe I ate the whole thing.”

• In my four years at Cornell I have learned that when a department says, “We are striving to create greater transparencies,” they are most likely saying, “We’re hiring an intern to take in all of your complaints.”

• When I was a freshman I used to take hard courses like Biology. I remember following the instructions for a gel electrophorisis lab when I was asked to “create a DNA cocktail.” When I asked the lab instructor what this meant she said, “Just mix those two beakers together. We use phrases like that to trick people into going into science.”

• One of my roommates is currently in the beginning of a relationship. Before his first date, we devised a strategy that while he was with the girl, I’d call him several times. He would eventually look at his phone and say something like, “Oh, them again,” and we would pretend to have a very important conversation in order to impress his new biddy. “What? No … 5,000 gold, and if it’s a dollar more it’s your ass.” He’d then say something like, “This is the third broker I’ve gone through this year.” I am so clever.

• I hope she is not reading this.

I recently got an email saying, “This column serves no purpose. There’s no argument and no opinion. You spend your entire column writing in bullet points. At best you are a lazy comedian.”

Avid reader, thank you for this, albeit somewhat negative, fan mail. I’m going to refute your comments by saying you are wrong. I wish I could elaborate but I’ve surpassed the minimum word requirement needed to publish a column. Wait have I surpassed it? Let me go check. Before I do that I need to get up to stretch and eat my sandwich. Ok, I’m back, Ah ha! Yes! I did it! According to word count, I have surpassed by minimum requirement by over 50 words (50!). There’s really no point in writing anymore. You can probably stop reading if you haven’t stopped already. I am now going to end this paragraph abruptly.

The End.

[Ed. note: In January 2011, this columnist was revealed to have used passages that were identical or nearly identical to passages found in Andrew Webb’s ’08 column, Confessions of a Mental Patient. For a full explanation of the situation and the reactions from Sun editors, click here.]

Original Author: Amyn Bandali