I categorically maintain that there is one job that beats all others hands-down when it comes to being boring. It beats Doctoral Professorship, proctocology, ear-cleaners, railway-crossing attendants, airport baggage handlers et al. The occupation that is mind-numbingly boring to the point that each one of your grey cells stage a walk-out individually, is that of the local building securitywala.

Here’s a person who sits and waits for the next day to come. That’s it. He’s like a private study subject of the Grim Reaper, inching towards his own QED. He thrives on inaction, and he knows that he is an essential permanent fixture, like one of the unobtrusive fire extinguishers on the wall. He is a person who actually has the time in his job to watch himself grow old, one day at a time. One of my secret theories holds that we go to work just because we need something to keep us from worrying about senility and its associated assortments. And this is all the poor guy on his mini-chair does.

He has an astounding level of patience, and a will to do nothing. He can just sit around, sleep in their chairs, and generally live a half-awake existence without any qualms whatsoever. The sense of everyday urgency or to do something worthwhile or to be reaching somewhere, someone, soon, just doesn’t even connect to him as logic or habit.

Dunno whether to pity him or envy him.

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