Dear Google, I am not Italian

Yes, I have shared an office with Italians for years at a time. I am addicted to coffee. I have even tried to learn Italian. However, I am not Italian.

Mystified? So was I, since Picasaweb decided a couple of days ago to start speaking to me in Italian. All other Google products seem happy to continue treating me as my boring old English-speaking self, but not so Picasa. It had invested me with a mysterious Mediterranean alter ego, with which it strenuously tried to communicate thusly: "Fotografiile mele". I decided to leave it alone in the spirit of "Picasa, heal thyself". The dam broke today. A friend, after months of procrastination, decided this morning to share pictures he'd taken over the last year or so. To view said pictures, I had to converse with Picasa. Which said: "Cine vede porecla dvs.?"

At this point, two things became clear:
(1) I was in for a small spell of diagnosis and (hopefully) fixage.
(2) This language can't be Italian. Exhibit A:"Ce reprezintă Căutarea publică?" Count the diphthongs.

Off I went, navigating by approximate translation of menu text, and hoping I didn't end up deleting all my pictures (and believing that dear Google would display large blinky "Are you sure?" dialogs before letting me do anything truly destructive). A short, but apprehensive silence followed. At the end of which I discovered that Picasa had decided to speak to me not in Italian, but in *Romanian*. I can barely pronounce Ceauşescu, and my idea of famous Romanians is Vlad III a.k.a Dracula and Nadia Comaneci. Oh well, I'm now back to speaking English with Picasa, which said brightly "Your settings have been updated!"

In the spirit of the day, here's a little more about Romania. Oh, and I don't think Google is mining my data to update my language settings.

How not to advertise your product

Today's advertisement brought to you courtesy of Facebook.



How many things are wrong with this ad?

Institutionalized nonspecificity

Or How I try to explain to people what I do (and usually fail)
.....................................................................................

Them: I'm a sales manager at Widget Corporation (or Professor of History at Doomsbury University or in fact, any title where you can tell what the job is). How about you?

Me: (slightly embarassed) Uh..I'm a consultant.

The polite audience nods sagely before letting a slightly confused expression show. Others, they simply move on to the next question.

Them: What kind of consultant?

Me: (knowing that this is not going to make things better) Strategy consultant, actually. You know, we typically work with senior management at companies on large strategic issues.

Everyone realizes at this point that things are clear as mud, and the topic is dying. The more determined audience, in an effort to prove their determination, ask for examples. This is almost always a dead-end because management consultants typically won't give out specific examples.

The more creative audience decides to ask for my job title (or, politely, for a business card). And there, in bold print on the business card, it says...

Them:...Oh, so you are an Associate...

I wince, and wait for it. We both know they are thinking of the Associate at Bloomingdale's who helped them find the nice pashmina for Grandma.

Them:..which means..?

Me: It's kind of like a manager. That means I'm usually in charge of solving one particular problem, and sometimes I also have people working for me.

Them: oh. ok.

Silence. Then we move on.

Tom Sawyer and me

What do I have in common with Tom Sawyer? Among other things, we're not fans of Monday morning. He had his reasons, and mine is having to get up at 4AM to catch a plane.

And now, bright and early on a Monday, I'm hanging out in SFO. Why? The flight is delayed. Why? They don't have de-icing equipment in San Francisco, and the plane is frozen over.

So how is a plane de-iced? Carefully, I hope.

Positive reinforcement

Toss him a Mackerel.

Another little snippet

I've blogged about life's little surrealities before. Well, here's another one for you. Why would a company's firewall block access to the BBC, but not CNN or Al Jazeera?

Indian names

A funny Indian recently said "...is the name I was registered under as birth, which got corrected to its current form through successive but fortunate clerical accidents. Indian names, in addition to being complicated, also have the tendency to get changed at will by random disinterested parties, without an explicit audit trail."

Just wanted to share it with you all, and direct your attention to this very funny piece about South Indian names. Here.

More collective nouns

Sent to me today:

An insecurity of Type A personalities.

This one I just had to post!

How to write a biography

On second thought, how to write almost anything.

I am not on BBC

This is going to sound strange to most people. So I must first explain that I have been receiving emails intended for her.

Careful/interested readers of this blog may now skip to the next post :) This note is intended for the people googlewhacking the BBC presenter's name, finding this blog and writing to me.

I realize that if you're a huge fan, even the remote possibility that I may be your idol is a stone that must not be left unturned. Therefore, let me first assure you that I am not the person on BBC you've been drooling over. You're welcome to read my blog and comment, but messages sent to me will not miraculously find their way to the woman of your dreams.

For the more paranoid/suspicious among you, a simple assurance will not be enough. You may want to explore this blog a bit to satisfy yourselves that I am a real person with a life of my own. Knock yourself out. It will turn out that I'm right and you're wrong. My dog bears witness.

If you're still unsatisfied, let me just say:
(1) It's highly improbable that your Nisha Pillai manages to do her BBC gig from San Francisco.
(2) There are over a billion Indians (not counting the ones living abroad). There's a remote possibility that more than two Indian women share the same name, *and* show up when you googlewhack the name.
(3) I'm willing to bet good money that she of BBC fame does not need to worry about dog drool on her keyboard.