“Who am I talking to again?”
Why can’t people in India talk normally over the phone?
Take a good look at the picture.
If you’re Indian chances are that’s not you.
So for the love of God will you please stop talking like him.
Of late I’ve had to deal with a lot more phone conversations with random strangers, than I care to. Suddenly I realise we are in the middle of an epidemic. People in India don’t talk normally over the phone anymore. Especially during professional conversations.
Somewhere unbeknownst to us, we all went and became cast members on a badly scripted Aussie soap opera. (At least I think its Aussie)
Here are some snippets from a few recent conversations I’ve had:
“Oh hey mate, how’s-it-goin’…
How are you doin’ today?
Blah blah blah — work — work — bullshit — bullshit
Hey brotha, just wanted to let-ya-knoe, it’s been great jammin’ with ya!
At this point I’ve lost all track of the nature of the accent being employed. Are you British, Australian, African American? I can’t tell anymore. The least you can do is commit to impersonating one type of slang or manner of expression.
And there’s more:
“So we’ll hit ya up sometime real soon
And let’s make this happen, Yea’
You have a good day mate! Yea’
You have yourself a great evenin’ Yea’
Cheers mate, Yea’
Talk — to — yaa — soon — brotha, Yea’
Catch ya later man! Yea’
It’s been great talkin’ — to — ya! Cheers, Yea’
Take care — man, Yea’!
Someone passing by might mistake this conversation as one taking place between two bosom friends who grew up on the great outback together. Where we hunted and lived off the land, men bound together by savage war and civil unrest. Cruel times forged an unbreakable bond between us, made us depend on each other. Many a long night had we spent together beneath the stars, separating meat from bone roasted over an open fire. But no, this from men I have not seen nor spoken to before.
I remember the one time I tried an accent, which incidentally was also the last time I ever used an accent was. This happened when I was in school. After a particularly addictive bout of old British sitcoms including Jeeves and Wooster, Monty Python, A Bit of Fry and Laurie, Blackadder, Fawlty Towers and the like. I blame the BBC. Also due to a severe lack of friends I started talking to all my family members as if we were peasants in rural England.
“I say old chap, old bean, smashing, chuffed, corker and miffed.”
But it was not to last, my mother beat the Britisher out of me, by merely breaking into thunderous peals of laughter every time I spoke. (“Oh, I’m sorry she guffawed!” as I would have said back then)
And that was the end of it. But now I’m beginning to think I need to start channeling my inner Bertie again especially if we are to choose slang and accents at will, I choose Bertie’s.
Henceforth all conversation beginning with,
“How’s it going mate?
Will be met with a resounding:
“Blinding old chap, absolutely blindingly — smashingly — well
How are you me old corker?
All attempts to end conversation with an overuse of exuberance will be met with equal force and tenacity,
“You too old son,
Don’t be a damp squib over the weekend
Be safe from the fuzz too
Keep yer marbles about
Chin-chin, knees up and all that
And before I forget
“Yea’!
Hell yea’!
Bugger off yea’!
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