I intended to have a single post about my catastrophic departure from Scotianak, but an episode that strained my relations with my boss D deserves a separate article.
That episode relates to the Transylvanian men’s dance I performed in the meeting room.
It was a custom at the bank to have themed parties once a year in the boardroom. That year, a pair of Brazilians offered to play the guitar, and I offered to perform a Transylvanian male dance demonstration.
I had the music on an external USB stick.
When the Transylvanian music started, those who were passing through the aisle crowded inside, and those who didn’t have a place were looking through the windows (the meeting room had windows facing the aisle).
With such an audience, I gave my soul by jumping, whistling and giggling, clapping my hands... and when my muscles couldn’t hold me anymore (after about one minute), I continued to beat the floor with my feet and hands, still giggling. I came out from the dancing ring whistling, my head back and my shoulders back, which meant (in Grandma’s village) that I was proud of what I had done.
D and I had the office in the same cubicle with 3 other employees. I sometimes observed D when employees from other teams came to ask for clarification. They needed answers to questions like “When is the server’s installation ready?” D would answer with a big smile, telling them how busy we are and how important it is that everything is done correctly and checked and double-checked (by the way, no one checked anyone else’s installations; it was too simple). He was deliberately delaying the delivery to give himself importance.
After that dance, the people coming into the cubicle would pass by D and come up to me to congratulate me. D prepared his smile, which quickly turned into a grimace. I think what bothered him the most was when one of the organizers (also an Indian) came and told me that the party was a success because of my dancing. I’m not kidding; the guy was very excited.
D couldn’t take it anymore and moved my desk outside the cubicle where I had traffic behind me (I was used to it, because it wasn’t the first time).
By the way:
Two months later (after I was fired), my wife and I were talking about my affair with the job at the bank, and she asked me to do a demo for her at home (in the basement). He filmed me, and I put the video on YouTube.
I’m sorry I didn’t force it to be like that dance in the boardroom, but I just couldn’t feel like being close to a heart attack once more. Anyway, it works as a demo. Note: the whistles heard are mine, not from the tape, but the song is the same.
However, getting back to Scotiabank, D didn’t stop there. But that’s next time...
Where it all started: