I know I am smart and that smartness begged me this highly salaried job. Aah, owning a motorcycle and a home loan were few dreams fulfilled with this job.
There's no window in 3*5. One 3*1 table, two chairs, each at the opposite side of the table, one for me. Six switches. Two of them were for cameras. No one for me. My swich is my bank statement. I shouldn't smile, I have been groomed so. I have to stay objective. I believe they expect me to behave as accurately as the machine, a computer and a biomatrix scanner, on the table and the cameras on both of the doors.
Let the system download, the sophisticated up-to-the-date, highly sensitive system. It captures biomatric data. Let the system do it task and I shouldn't corrupt the system with my human uploading.
The front door will open and a human will enter with a lot of dreams and aspirations. That human may be a young one with good command on language or a native lady who will see everything in the 3*5 with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Someone, overwhelmed one, will try to do things fast to prove one's smartness. But I shouldn't appreciate their proficiency or curiosity or speed. I am here to instruct the human and the machine on the table with utmost objectivity.
"It isn't a call center job.", I was told. One cannot decore this 3*5 space as personal one. It should be as objective as an object, as the machine on the table and in the chair. So, no sticker or perfume of personal choice. The company will decide the aroma and feel of all the objects and the space they occupy. And it has to be an aloof one.
I enjoyed this job for first few hours. But, very soon I started to feel an urge to talk. And this feeling made me feel sick with fear. My bike. The home loan. The lower middle class dreams and that lower middle classy fear. I was instructed to instruct, most politely though,but not to talk. I shouldn't tell the person before me , " Relax, it's gonna be alright." Or " So, well, you know those tactics of how to look great in a photo." I wish I could read their finger prints, like astrologers. But, I can't because I was groomed not to do so. Eventually, I found a way to talk. A middle class corruption.
When a human enter into my 3*5, as instructed, I won't give a smile or look at it. But, the moment its image appear on the computer screen, I would let my astrologers' self take the charge. I would make eye contect with the image, I would check how healthy the skin looks behind the foundation,if it is applied. I would count the fine lines near the eyes and lips and guess how light or heavily hearted it is. I would look closely the colour of the pupils and the light they capture. And I would think about the personality of the image. A stubborn person,tight skin but fine lines near lips and eyes. An easy go lucky, fluffy face. A caring mother with wrinkles on neck . An aspiring young lad with sparkling eyes. A rebel one, tightly closed lips. A madame, playing with the table, mischievous one . A government officer, who rerecites each instruction as a question. A middle level politician, keeps his head a little up. There's no way I could check my assumptions. But, I kind of enjoying doing it. This play make me feel human in this robotic job. Rarely, very rarely, I come across someone brave enough human soul who would look at me closely while following my instructions ,"Look up at the camera for ten seconds,please." ; but, not brave enough to reach me out.
But that human was one of those brave soul. It tryed to look at me very closely without getting closer. The 3*1 table is between those two chairs and beings. Even though, I noticed that it was trying to communicate ,without words. And I was overwhelmed to see my side face in its brown pupils. That soul too was equally smart and sensitive enough to catch me blushed. We exchanged smiles, me with my tightly closed lips, the soul with its brodended two. The fear stepped in the next moment and reflected from my eyes. This robotic job which has gave me first bike and a home loan.It evoparated the beauty that was right there the previous moment. I was shattered. I was broken. But, the smile in the next chair, it was still there. I gathered myself to finish the task. The smile was obeying my robotic instructions with smile. It kept on knocking myself . It get up from the chair, went to the door and turned, "Thanks. All the best." And I realized, there isn't any fear in this moment !
I know, there are negligible chances that the human being entering my 3*5 will enter again. Most people, fearful or over confident or practical or egoistic or simple will enter this 3*5 and will fail to notice the warm heart behind the table, human sound behind the robotic instructions and non smiling fellowship behind the thin lips. I have experienced a moment of fearlessness. I can wait right hear in this 3*5 to find someone, anyone who could pass on one more does of much needed fearlessness, to me.
