Is this a Dream?

Thought I'd give you all a taste of my work life here. It's been a bit hard to convey since my roles change on a daily basis.

For the second half of the internship, I've basically been working on trend pieces. I attend an event, and find an angle focusing on development. I come back to the office the next morning, do research, conduct more interviews if I need to, and write a piece.

Last night, I was sent to an event at the top hotel in Bangalore to meet the distributing director and associates of Sogrape winery, which has its base in Portugal but owns vineyards around the world, with a concentration on Latin America. As always, I had no idea what to expect.

I didn't bring any nice clothes with me, and I rarely find time to shop so I wore a 4-year old Buffalo Exchange skirt that I'm pretty sure I "borrowed" from Emma Bardagjy at the Country Fair two years back. It exposed my hairy legs, which I only realized after my cab broke down in the middle of an intersection and made myself comfortable in the back seat until another ride came.

Once another car reached, I crawled inside and introduced myself to the Bostonian man and journalism professor next to me, whom I will refer to as "Mr. Prof" in subsequent paragraphs. Next to him sat "Sasha", the editor of the lifestyle section of another paper. The man in a tux and the women in a gold dress. Yet again, I was highly under dressed, but I'm used to it by now... I like to think it's a trademark to my "style".

Before we arrived, Mr. Prof first skilled me (precursor to the night) on what I learned to be very crucial etiquette--how to accept a business card. This was the first time I truly noticed how formative this meet-and-great process is. It's the first impression, and by god damn, you better make a good one. On the flip side, my extensive business card collection has increased ten fold since I've held put in this professional playground.

After the B.C. exchange, I was seated across from Portuguese Felipe, and for a temporary escape and a deep breath, took a gander at the 9-course menu we would be served along with the wine. At this time a waitress asked me if I would like a warm towel.

"Umm... what do I do with it?" I whispered. I felt like I was sitting next to Leo D. in the dinner scene in Titanic. I knew he'd be my sole partner for life.

My mind began to focus on the silverware, and table etiquette, but it quickly switched. Never mind all that, my duty for the night was to analyze trends in wine consumption among Bangaloreans through conversation with these men.

As I kept my cynical thoughts inwardly composed, my very own Shakespearian fool showed up. It tends to happen here.

"My friend told me to come to this dinner. What the fuck is this fancy shit. If I would have known I wouldn't have come."

Nice, some easing entertainment. Felipe looked over at him, and said, "We'll try and make this as easy and comforting as possible." Little did he know, he made me feel better as well.

The "pallet cleansing course" passed around the table, and I asked why we were being served dessert before the main course. Laughter erupted among the eight-person crowd.

"Enjoy this Tara, you will be attending many more of these in your life," Mr. Prof said. Then he took me outside to lightly analyze various styles of literature and the global media market, but I assumed his actual intent was to preach about the need to find my own voice in my writing and stay true my source, because that alone will drive me to success.

............

Back inside, the Shakespearian fool was firing questions I hadn't thought of, and I was relieved. He made my job super easy... as I don't know quite as much as he does about imports and distribution between Indian states and shit like that. I listened intently and scribbled down quotes when I thought them decent to print.

He concluded the night with, "You don't even make much profit of the wine. Why don't you market bread? That's what the people need!"

I didn't outwardly display my love for him, but I definitely had the eyes.

During the last course, the marketing executive gave a toast to my future success, "Saaaaalud!"


One month ago, this would have given me an out-of-body experience. A "How did I get here?" moment frozen in time. But now it's a more mild feeling. It's still quite unbelievable, but I now know a great deal more about my true self and my intended path. This is also the most recent in a series of events. So I listen, smile and respond kindly. I'm glad they think so highly after a few glasses of chardonnay.


"Sasha" offered me a paid internship at her lifestyle section. But after the ride home, when she was ferociously yelling about how much she hated Bollywood, and punctuated her argument with, "Bollywood is for my maids, It's servant entertainment and I refuse to sink so low," I don't think I will be joining her team.


I woke up this morning and wondered why I feel so different. It's because I'm truly living in a dream. But it's "reality". And that, is fucking awesome.

Gotta keep workin' hard...