It is 7:30 p.m. on Monday. I have been neck deep in meetings and work.
I am on the way home, but I see that the traffic is jammed from here to hell. My laptop is on my knees. The driver has resigned himself to this crawl. Two cars away, another man is on the cell phone, and his laptop is open as well. It looks like Bombay is back in all its glorious busy mess.
Alvaro, an old college friend of mine, sent an email just now. His work day is just starting, and he is bemoaning that Monday morning has caught up with him in the US.
"Estoy en la maquina", he says. "I am in the machine."
Not just you, my friend. The machine's got me too.
I am on the way home, but I see that the traffic is jammed from here to hell. My laptop is on my knees. The driver has resigned himself to this crawl. Two cars away, another man is on the cell phone, and his laptop is open as well. It looks like Bombay is back in all its glorious busy mess.
Alvaro, an old college friend of mine, sent an email just now. His work day is just starting, and he is bemoaning that Monday morning has caught up with him in the US.
"Estoy en la maquina", he says. "I am in the machine."
Not just you, my friend. The machine's got me too.
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