“Hey Zendu! Mah man! Good you’re early today.” he smirked as though he had seen Emmanuelle Chriqui walk into the office with a bowl of chocolate-covered strawberries in one hand and a can of Reddi-wip in the other. “I have a very important bug for you to look at this morning.”

He kept his smirk going, telling Zendu how fixing this one bug would rid the world of measles, malaria and mumps, all at the same time and AIDS too if Zendu tried hard enough. “You are the guy I can count on right?”

Zendu knew right away that he had woken up on the wrong side of the bed that morning. He looked at the ceiling, then slowly closed his eyes and asked his inner self in a soft voice “why the fuck did I have to show up so early goddammit!!!”.

Zenduism says, all important shit has a tendency to become less important shit as the day progresses. In other words, most things fix themselves by the end of the day.
At the same time, making up shit and pretending that we are fixing shit helps keep everyone’s self-esteems in prime condition (and the paycheck coming).
Work for Zendu meant striking a balance between these two shits.

“You are our ace developer and I know you will find a solution right away”, Dave continued. The first course of piping hot, fresh-off-the-oven bullshit had been served to Zendu and it was not even 9AM.

Dave was Zendu’s boss. Always dressed in brown khakis and a white shirt, he looked like a kid who had lost his way out of a public school somewhere in a remote village of India. Zendu and Dave had a love-hate relationship going; Zendu loved it when Dave wouldn’t show up for work and Dave hated it when Zendu was not around.

“I will take a look at it.” Zendu nodded while looking away from Dave. You could tell Zendu didn’t really give a shit about Dave’s daily gobbledygook. At the same time, he made sure that Dave loved him. Dave was his boss after all and just like your wife, if your boss is happy means you are happy. And like all horrible bosses, Dave too was suffering from acute superioritis. Ironically, Zendu fondly called Dave his therapist.

“Dave Therapist”, Zendu had proclaimed from time to time. “You always know how to solve my problems Dave. You are like a personal therapist at work.” It worked wonders on Dave. Well, little did Dave know what ‘Therapist’ really meant. TheRapist.

“Please keep me posted!”, Dave’s grin had become wider by now; as if there was some relation between the number of teeth he showed and how fast Zendu fixed issues.

Without saying much, Zendu kept walking. You could still hear Dave murmur in the background. “I know you can do it! You’re mah man!”, the annoying voice continued. It made Zendu wonder sometimes whether the sucker was getting paid by the minute, with coins; much like a public telephone. Zendu’s day had begun…