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The world is an ugly place—and truer words cannot be spoken in this regard.

Today, we had eight interviews scheduled back-to-back for a CXO position. All senior people involved, and even more senior people on the panel.

The plan was to have these interviews on the 24th, 30th, and 31st of the month, in batches—like normal, functioning human beings. But for some unforeseeable reason, everything got preponed and scheduled together. All eight. Same day. Back-to-back. No gap. No breathing space. Just corporate optimism.

We did the last-minute scheduling, sent out invites, and shared CVs, JDs, and interview feedback sheets in advance. Usually, we also give everyone their own printouts.

This time, we assumed.

There were five panelists. Three of them were to sit together in the office. Two of them had secretarial support, who were also marked on the invites.

I was under the belief that they would take care of the printing.
They were under the belief that I would.

Communication didn’t fail. It just never happened.

Also, this was Gudi Padwa.

And I stay in Mumbai. Which means my usual bus service was not functional. Which means I had to take the train. Which, if you live in India—especially Mumbai—is not just transport, it is a personality development program.

And let me just say this—the fact that India does not have terrorists who turned bad because of the Indian railways says a lot about our patience. And I say this with absolutely not even half a drop of exaggeration.

I had taken a ticket for an AC first-class coach.
The train left two minutes before time.
I had to catch the next one—non-AC.
I caught my 07:03 train at 7:23. Why? Just because. The train was late by twenty fucking minutes. No refunds either.

Anyway.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, I get a call from my grand boss—my boss’s boss.

She wanted all the printouts.

The printouts that I believed the secretaries had covered.

Now, usually, people in senior positions don’t really want to know why something is not done. So I didn’t explain. I just said okay and mentally started running to the office while physically being stuck in a bus between the station and the office.

I reach the office. Rush to my desk. Start printing.

Eight candidates. Four sets. Feedback sheets. CVs.
Twenty-four assessment sheets.

And obviously, the printer decided that today was not my day.

It printed all the CVs—first pages together.

So now I’m sitting there manually arranging CVs like this is an arts and crafts project I never signed up for.

Midway through this chaos, my grand boss’s secretary shows up and asks if I need help.

She’s this sixty-something woman—really pretty, really fit. The kind of person I would want to be at that age, but also I know I won’t be because she’s just… gorgeous.

Let’s call her Brietta.

I told her to print the last four CVs. She just took them and left.

No questions. No hesitation.

Anyway, as expected, the start was a disaster. We managed to get everything ready just before the first interview.

And then the first candidate had camera issues.

So we had to call the second candidate first.

Perfect.

I panic fast. Especially when I’m not prepared. I can run around and get things done, but I need to know beforehand what needs to be done. I don’t do well with surprises. At all.

And in the middle of all this, Brietta asks me if I want coffee.

I said no. Obviously. I’m not going to ask a 60-year-old woman to get me coffee. I have standards.

She ignored me.

She said she was making some for herself anyway. And that she knows I haven’t had anything since morning. So she’ll get something for me too.

And for the first time that day, I felt… something.

Relief.

Not because of the coffee.
Because someone noticed.

A few minutes later, another panelist’s secretary comes up to me and says,
“Calm down. This is your grooming period. We can get this done.”

And I just stood there for a second.

Because I don’t think I deserve that kind of kindness. Especially not in situations like this. I know how I am when things go wrong.

But they were just… calm.

And that’s when it hit me.

What experience does to you.

Because while I was internally cursing everything and everybody—the printer, the trains, the timing, the situation—they were just handling it. No panic. No chaos. Just… steady.

And I realised something very uncomfortable.

I am not that person.

At least not yet.

But maybe that’s the point.

Maybe life doesn’t get easier. Maybe you just get calmer.

Maybe the world isn’t ugly.

Maybe it’s just… a lot.

And in the middle of all that—missed trains, broken printers, impossible timelines—you find people.

Good people.

The kind who make you coffee.
The kind who tell you to calm down without making you feel stupid.
The kind who don’t make a big deal out of helping.

I think gratitude works like that for me.

Not in journals. Not in lists.

In moments.

In real time.

When the world pauses just enough for me to notice that not everything in it is ugly.

Just… most of it.