iBlooogle, do you?

Count Your Blessings

2012-01-12T14:56:00.000+03:00

The weekend is upon us, for some it is an excuse to laze about, for others, a quiet reflection of what was and what is to come.

What happened to iBlooogle?

2011-09-14T11:18:00.000+03:00

The I merely turned into My,

And one of the 3 Round Friends bid us Goodbye.

Another Teaser as to our New Address

2011-08-14T14:23:00.000+03:00

Scan this barcode and find out,

What the secrecy is all about!

Its not a secret anymore,

Follow the Blue Bird to know more!

From The Ashes of iBlooogle,,,

2011-08-09T11:48:00.000+03:00

What was meant to be my Swan Song

Was merely a ruse all Along

To understand what may seem Absurd

I ask you to Trust me,

And follow the Little Blue Bird...

R.I.P iBlooogle March 2010 - July 2011

2011-07-26T11:57:00.000+03:00

March 2010 - July 2011

"Read by few, Loved by Many"

One can only hope that moniker holds true.

When I first started blogging, I went with the name iBlooogle (emphasis on the 3 O's) to represent my passion for blOgging and for gOOgle. The "i" was for me, and not some Apple related strategy. What made it worthwhile were the readers, the friends I picked up along the way for whom I am extremely grateful and forever indebted to, the comments and the queries. It was a fun ride.

Thank you to all that had taken an interest in reading, whether you remained silent or voiced your comments, your impact was felt.

"To the well trained mind, death is but the next greatest adventure." Albus Dumbeldore

The best is yet to come.

Amy Whinehouse's Death

2011-07-25T13:11:00.000+03:00

It is always a sad predicament when one finds a youth with so much potential die at such an early age. It is not for anyone to say she "died too soon", as our lives and paths are predetermined, it was her time.

Her choices however, are what we can lament.

Having hit top of the iTunes most downloaded charts since news of her death became public knowledge, the world mourns the loss of Amy Whinehouse.

Some however, are more interested in searching for images of Amy Whinehouse with no make-up or wig on; to those I say, show some respect.

These actions further fuel the fact that we are as much responsible for her death as the drugs that killed her. The general population of the world is so quick to accept stars and celebrities, and so quick to condemn them when they slip up. It is a vicious circle whereby the stars and celebrities themselves also add to their downward spiral.

I cannot say I was a fan of hers per se, I may have liked a song on the radio that turned out to be hers once or twice, but that was the limit of my interest.

Much like Heath Ledger's and Brittany Murphy's demise, Amy Whinehouse is sure to spark emotion and condolences from around the globe.

It is not for me to say, however celebrities lives are not all glitz and glamour, there is a dark side to fame that is always shown in real life yet never explored.

Britney Spears, the mouse-keteer, Christina Auguillera, Hilary Duff, Lindsey Lohan, Miley Cyrus.. Compare the starts of their careers with where they are now. The good girl image is quickly discarded as soon as their fame skyrockets.

All one can hope for is that a lesson is learnt from all these young deaths.

Freedom Run Done - Photos from Tahrir Square 07/11

2011-07-25T11:29:00.000+03:00

Back once again with the renegade master!

Hark readers and sports enthusiasts! I have returned from a week long vacation, if it can be called as such for such a short period of time, to Cairo.

The weather was nice, in comparison to here, whilst everyone was complaining about the heat, I was relishing in it!

*!~300th Post Alert~!*

Previously I had posted a task I wished to complete, My Freedom Run, to go from my house to Tahrir Square (here), the distance was estimated via the good people at Google to be 12~16KM. I had initially planned to run it on friday morning, but given that I was at Tahrir Square at 3AM on friday, it seemed folly to attempt a distance run with improper rest, the run kept getting delayed due to personal reasons (lovely personal reasons) until last wednesday morning, I decided it was time to put up, or write an apology to all for chickening out.

I got my gear on, did my pre-run stretching, took my trusty N97 in my waist-pack and headed to a garden a stones throw away from my house to faciliate the ease of GPS signal reception. As soon as I heard the "beep" informing me that the connection was made, I headed out to the road, a route I had planned in my head, at roughly 9AM.

What I noticed about Cairo that differs from Kuwait is the contours first of all, the rises and falls along the streets, and the large sidewalks at times, and absence of such at other times!

Some people were staring, some people were laughing, some were cheering, and some were sneering. Nay did I care, for I was heavily engrossed in my music and my purpose.

When I saw the sign that Tahrir Square was close by, I got my second wind, it came after 3 slip ups, and a sore left ankle. Upon reaching the bend where the Ramsis Hilton loomed in the horizon, I felt a sense of elation, for there right across from it stood the Cairo Museum, and a few meters away, Tahrir Square.

I was carrying my national ID along with some spare change for a few drinks (juice and water, not that!) as well as some momento's for a few great friends (you know who you are). I passed by the first person without incident, they forwent the custom inspection as it was clear to any in the square that the guy in the black running shorts and red national football team t-shirt was not packing anything. It did not stop another inspector at the gate for asking for my ID a second time. In mocking manner, I replied that I had already shown it, a bit too nastily for my tastes to be honest. I felt bad and returned to the guy and apologised, in the end, he is volunteering his time to ensure the safety of the Square, and that in itself is commendable. I told him about my run, we laughed together and parted ways as friends.

This is the run:

And these are pictures from around the Square, a sort of 360 for any who have not been there who wish to see what it is like in real life, along with a few of me, bedecked in my black bandana.

Suffice to say, I took a taxi home. It may not seem as much to some, but to me this was symbolic.

Tahrir Square has slowly become a commercial circus, and is slowly but surely losing its identity as a symbol for the glorious Egyptian Revolution of January 25. It saddens me that this is happening, but it is another tale, for another time.

May this serve to motivate others to run as well, that way, my purpose is complete.

The garden near my house, soon as the GPS picked up

Entrance towards Abbasya; my university was down the street, to the right

Tahrir Square, Straight ahead. Behind that sign, Ramsis Train Station

Cairo Museum

Tahrir from Afar

Passed the checkpoint, first view of the Square

dear SCAF - sorry, your credit has been depleted.

tents in the middle of the Square

Part 4 - My Life in Exchange for Yours - Mouse Revealed, Sun Shines

2011-07-14T11:52:00.000+03:00

Good afternoon dear all who are reading, today we come across the final chapter of my first employment. The idea behind naming Mouse shall be revealed, as well as the tumultuous task of finding a replacement on such short notice.

As most of you know, today I am travelling to Cairo, plane leaves Kuwait at 4:40pm. I will take that much needed relaxation time to pen the second part of my work story, again, with hidden wisdoms in the middle, that show how the world works exactly as it is supposed to, and everything happens in due time, when it is supposed to.

To those who have taken the time to read these ramblings of mine, I thank you. To those who have chosen to comment, I thank you even more.

Onto the next part!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sun asked me for my salary expectation, I told him what salary I had in mind, which coincidentally was the same salary I had been offered the first time I visited the company in Al-Ardiya, and also the same salary that the new girl in Tyrant's department was given. His response literally blew me away, despite my salary expectation being lower than what he had planned to offer, he raised it, making it 60% more than what I was earning currently with Mouse. I said, for that amount, I was willing to wear a dress to work if need be (I should have had higher standards for myself but, alas).

Suffice to say, I agreed.

The package comparison came as follows, at my current place of work I was getting a mediocre salary, a leave of 14-days, with a two-week notice period. By that time, the two-day weekend had finally caught up with this company that time forgot, and Thursday was a full working day, making Saturday a holiday. The work hours shifted to become till 4:30 each day. The package I was being offered was 60% more than my current salary, a plane ticket home, 30-day annual vacation, working hours from 8-5 for the months of May to December, 8 – 6 for the months of January to April (audit season).

Upon returning to my workplace, I was quick to inform a dear friend of mine, a charming, loving, funny secretary by the name of Rose. She told me to be like a frog, and never quit hopping from one job to the next. I took her advice to heart, and never for a moment stopped implementing it.

As expatriates, we are here for mainly one thing; to earn a better living than what we would in our country of origin. Loyalty will not be rewarded, and seniority is over-rated; what is the point in accruing a hefty end-of-service benefit/ indemnity at a later age, when working for a higher salary now can offer you a better standard of living? Find a better offer and take it. That is the wheel of life in Kuwait.

A dearly departed teacher of mine once said, expatriates are in this country for one thing; it’s a 3 letter word that ends with an X, and it is not the first thing you think of.

Now came the time to break the news to Mouse. After a mere six-month stint in his department, and with the wounds brought about by the departure of his senior accountant, it was time for me to administer another blow and hand in my resignation.

Now some would say, how could I do this to Mouse? He had taken me in and taught me when Tyrant discarded me. It all comes down to prospects.

This day in age, the proof of seniority through age is a defunct belief. If in order to prove myself, I have to depend on the time I spend in a place, and not upon the effort I put in or how well I do my job, then thank you, it is time for me to go.

Like all those who are faced with change, I was hesitant to accept this new position, despite verbally agreeing with Sun to start in March of 2008. As humans we have a fear of the unknown, and learning a new skill-set, for I was leaving behind my career as an accountant for a step up the corporate ladder to auditor, was a daunting notion.

I discussed my offer with Mouse, and he claimed to have attempted to speak to the owner of the company to meet my offer (or something close to it, he said, since I was familiar with the work here). The owner refused, and my resignation paper was approved.

I did however take into consideration Mouse’s efforts on my behalf, and agreed to delay my departure from the company, instead of the contractual two week notice I gave him one month, in which I vowed to find and train my own replacement.

It was a grueling month in which I had posted ads online, posted on Facebook, spoke to HR, and even interviewed a few candidates myself to assess their skills. Apparently, everyone is bilingual, and everyone took English courses and had certificates to prove it from the American University, however, put them in a conversation and they stammer and stutter. Mouse’s English was not up to par, so he specifically requested that his new accountant be fluent in the language.

One of the possible candidates was a woman suggested by the owner of the company. She came in, all made-up and multi-colored, and when Mouse wanted to meet with her, she was away chatting with her friends from the office.

Mouse told me he did not wish to hire a woman. SMASH had left him disgruntled, so he overlooked the potential candidate, rightfully so in his eyes, as she had already ditched him on her first interview.

As I was interviewing a friend I suggested to come in for an trial, with perfect English, Mouse's prerequisite, the owner of the company came up to me mid interview and told me he wished to speak to me in private, and then he berates and accuses me of being preferential and not giving his candidate the proper due process. My response was simple, I had in fact given her an exam, and her results were unsatisfactory as per Mouse’s review. I did not mention that Mouse did not wish to hire her on the grounds of her gender and lax work ethic.

My friend did not get the job, Mouse shot him down for not having accounting experience, completely overriding his previous comments to me about being able to teach accounting to anyone but needing someone with perfect English.

As it turned out, hope was on the horizon.

Remember the IT guy who took away my gaming privileges? Through him I was able to find a suitable replacement, Mali. Another friend I acquired that I have kept to this very day, whose history, or rather, his relatives history, crossed paths with me previously.

In my rush to train my replacement, Mali proved to be extremely capable and competent, I made a hasty error in which I informed the general manager of the department that a certain client had not paid, when they in fact had, as part of the accounts receivable process.

As you can see, this company lacked the simplest segregation of duties, whereby the GM himself was calling clients and asking for payment.

Since the GM does not deal with me directly, he lambasted Mouse, who was quick to point the finger of blame to me. Accordingly right? Later I was to realize the importance of delegation and how, before upper management, I do not exist, and it is my immediate supervisor who should oversee that my work is correct. My next manager showed me that. This one, quite fittingly, deserved the title of Mouse.

Now, in a very childish fashion, he asked me to go speak with the GM. I knew what was coming, I had made a mistake and it was rectified, I knew I made a mistake; that should be the end of it, right? Wrong. Mouse insisted I go meet the GM, so I took Mali along with me, and the phrase used by the GM was, “accountants words are like bullets, they shoot out fast, make sure you check the accounts properly next time!”, to which I replied, in my mind of course, there will not be a next time.

Against my better judgment, and according to Mouse’s wishes, it was time to bury the hatchet with Tyrant, as with my departure imminent, it was time to bid farewell to all, himself included.

I had wanted so badly to just ignore him, for he was the reason behind my bout with depression. His inhumane treatment of his employees, his disregard for peoples feelings served to further fuel my loathing of everything he stood for.

However in the end, I conceded and bid him a polite farewell and bon voyage, we shook hands, and that was that.

So on February 3^rd 2008, I made my debut at the new office. As for my quest for self enrichment, and the course I had been planning to attend, the one that got delayed from January, well, it was slated to start off in February, however, it got delayed to March, the month I joined my new office, and whereas my old workplace was in Shuwaikh, the training area was in Kuwait City, literally across the street from my new one, walking distance.

Suffice to say, I had gotten an overdue haircut and, prepared to make my debut in the next phase of my life, and chapter two of this two part story; the second coming.

Destiny works in mysterious ways.

The lessons learnt in this part of the story are that we do not know where our destiny lies; as it was evident, with so many opportunities presenting themselves, and so many missed opportunities, they were all building up to one. The lack of internet in one department, the presence of it in another, the art of sending out haphazard resumes, even in failure opportunity presents itself. And as one can see, the dates for everything fit almost perfectly, as if, in some grand scheme, they had already been pre-planned, and just awaiting the right time to come true.

Part 3 - My Life in Exchange for Yours - Twice Saved

2011-07-13T13:07:00.002+03:00

With the day of my brother’s wedding looming on the horizon, and no sign of a give from Tyrants position, as well as no bite from the other job offer with the other company, I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands and spoke to another compatriot at the office, a different manager in charge of a different branch, with a department of 2, compromised of him and his senior accountant. I told him of my predicament, and he took pity on me. Not before however, Tyrant saw me in his office and ordered me out.

That day Tyrant informed me that it was within his ability to fire me and send me packing.

Luckily for me, help was on the horizon. Everyone was aware of Tyrants maniacal tyranny. Early one morning as I was sitting with another manager (I shall call him Mouse, and the reason as to that name shall be revealed later) and telling him stories of the hardships I have had to go through in Tyrants department, none other than Tyrant himself barged in and ordered me out of Mouse’s office, then proceeded to harangue Mouse for allowing me to waste office time. That single incident was the straw that broke the camel’s back Mouse came to my rescue and requested an internal transfer.

Tyrant finally accepted, much to his chagrin, to have the last laugh, he decided to record my transfer as having occurred at the beginning of the month, despite us being in the middle, so that my measly salary, in its entirety, would fall solely on the head of Mouse.

Mouse agreed, and I was finally free of my depression, which had manifested itself in a loss of appetite, lack of sleep, loss of weight and a general lethargy that had me dreading the idea of waking up in the morning, for fear of the clash that was imminent to occur that day.

Mouse was very kind, and his senior accountant was also a gem, her name was SMASH, she did not tax me much in terms of workload. The difference between the two departments was what areas of the empire they were responsible for; Mouse was handling agriculture, different retail and real estate. The main difference was, this operating system was in Arabic, whereas as Tyrants was in English. The reason Mouse requested me in his department was for my English, which proved to be the single greatest asset in my arsenal when applying for jobs.

Fate had it in store for me to learn to type in my native language, which seemed a daunting task at first, but I am thankful for it nowadays, as I can truly use the mantle of bilingual. And, it came in very handy, as later it shall be revealed.

The wedding came and went, and it was a glorious bash of epic proportion. Two weeks later I was back at work, striving diligently to prove myself to Mouse and work hard.

Luckily for me, Mouse’s department’s PCs came with internet access. And it is with this small gift that Fate and Destiny truly smiled in unison upon me.

Now, for all intents and purposes, I came to realize that this career was a dead-end job. One could not claim for a raise until a period of 3 years elapsed on their employment with the company. These were the words spoken by Mouse himself. I was in no position to argue.

Once upon a fine day, Mouse went on vacation, and left SMASH in charge; as I went about performing my diligent daily functions, it came to me, at that moment in time, to Google the term “accountant jobs in Kuwait”, and I came across a website, for a company I hadn’t heard of, in a position I felt I wouldn’t fit in, but nonetheless, I applied.

The one thing I had made at that local company was connections, and one of them was a rugged American contractor, Phil, who loved to walk about whistling. Upon hearing him speak I was instantly drawn to his office, which happened to be a mere couple of feet away from me, as it was the first proper accent I heard since first joining the ranks of that company.

After establishing a friendship with him, it was his advice to not be afraid to send resumes all over the world, and all over the country, never be afraid of a cold shoulder. Apply to jobs you are under-qualified for, no resume goes unread, and at most you will serve to increase their candidate pool, so that when such time occurs that they have an opening suitable for you, you will be contacted.

Mouse was not on the Phil-boat, he viewed him as a threat for some reason, as he was required to pay Phil’s salary through his department.

During this time, the company at Al-Ardiya once again decided to give me a call, having kept me on hold for 2 months or so, and inform me that there is another position open. I went and met with the same HR guy again, took another couple of exams and was ready to be made an offer to.

It was much less than the last offer they made me. In actual fact, it was the same amount I was getting paid currently with this company.

I toiled with the thought of whether or not to make the jump, negotiating with the HR guy for an increase, a mere 10% increase over my current salary. As it stood, I was being offered the same salary, but this company was much larger, hence the possibility of promotion was always there.

When I reached an agreement with the HR guy as to an increase in their offer, again, a mere 10%, it took me a day or so to cement the idea in my mind and call him back to confirm my acceptance.

I was shocked to hear him tell me he had found another candidate willing to do the job for less, and that my offer had expired.

I will never forget that HR guy’s name, neither his smug attitude.

Suffice to say, destiny had another plan for me, and again, that 2 day delay worked in my favor, as it was later to reveal itself.

Mouse discovered my online activity and sought to put an end to it by cutting off my internet. Again, the mind works in mysterious ways, and despite not knowing how to, I was able to re-instate my internet connection, due to the fact that his senior accountant was on vacation and I compared our settings, hence I was able to continue upon my quest of sending a resume to every company in the State of Kuwait that was hiring.

I learnt later that SMASH was also upset at Mouse for his inability to grant her a decent raise, despite her having served her 3 year initial period. To compensate, he agreed to have the company pay an amount to send her to one of those 2-day workshops that offer you a certificate in the end, right here in Kuwait. I was asked if I was interested, but I declined, as in the name of self improvement, I had already signed up with a training institute to partake in a course that would see me add a title to the end of my name, the course was due to start in January, however, it got delayed, and in the greater scheme of things, that delay was a godsend.

Later on, she found a better position in a different company and jumped ship. She was made to pay for the course she attended on this company’s dime, the one I previously had turned down, and January 2008 marked her departure from the company.

On a fine day in January, I received a pleasant call from the audit office I mentioned above, asking me to come in for an interview. They had a written exam I had to take, and that was a 3-hour ordeal they said, so I had to make up an excuse of car-trouble to ditch again. Mouse was not amused but conceded nonetheless.

At the time, I had what would be considered long-ish hair, to others. To me it was just hair, at cheek length, nowhere near as long as it used to be during my years of university. I showed up, in a my current attire for work, formal shirt and cotton pants, and proceeded to meet with 2 people at that office; Sun, the manager, and Moon, the senior of the department. I was given the exam, followed by a translation, Arabic to English and vice versa, which, thanks to my current 6-month stint in an Arabic accounting position, I was able to glide over with ease.

Sun, called me back a while later, and I went in for another interview. Despite having failed the entrance exam, he was extremely pleased with me; the translation of that Ministerial document sealed the deal. Honestly, it came from a lifetime of reading John Grisham novels, as the majority of the passages I was working with where Ministry related, and hence had a dab of law to them. Again, I heard the mold and potential line, feeling all the while like a pile of clay or putty.
There was however a catch; the HR manager there, as well as Moon, the senior in the department, had requested that in order to offer me a contract I must first present myself to them in a suitable form –with shorter hair.

This is what I looked like when I applied:

And this is me during my rebelious uni days on the beach at Sharm, see? That is long hair! The one above was not!

Karma Collects

2011-07-13T11:51:00.000+03:00

They say Karma, the cosmic balance of good and evil, is a fickle friend, a very fickle friend indeed. One day she may choose to smile upon you, and in that day none can touch you. Howevr, none can protect you from her wrath and disdain once your time comes for retribution.

Not so long ago, I performed a feat of RobinHood-ian proportion, believing myself to be the fabled defender of the oppressed and down trodden. Coincidently, this event occured on the same day of my post regarding Pizza Hut's super supreme customer service (here). The story goes as follows:

We were hosting a relative over for dinner one evening, and inadvertently, he chose to park his car in an area that a corrupt, vile, wretched educational institution claims is their own, and go to great lengths to enforce this territorial monopoly upon the poor people in the surrounding buildings.

(For more on how the evening went, feel free to view the previous post, this one is concerned with the events AFTER the family gathering.)

Unbeknownst to my relative, as he bade us farewell and headed back toward his car, the evil, corrupt, vile, wretched institutions nasty henchmen saw to it that the area they believe is theirs by rent-right was cordoned off with a sizeable metallic chain and padlock.

Fortunately that night, I had chosen to accompany my relative on his walk back toward his car, for the first time since he started visiting, as I had understood he was parked far away and thought to myself, well he would enjoy the company instead of walking alone.

Upon assessing the situation, the responsibility of freeing my friend and relative from the clutches of these Machiavellian thugs, rested upon my broad shoulders.

As I meticulously schemed, a single, lone lightbulb came to life above my head.

3 years or so ago I had purchased a mighty sledgehammer, to be used as an exercise tool in homage to Rocky Balboa, in a vacant, empty yard behind my building that housed several large tyres. That formidable weapon proved to be the voice of the people, as I exercised it in ways befitting its original purpose as opposed to my intended purpose; it broke down the walls of tyranny.

I ran back home, my face alight with a huge smile in anticipation of the wanton destruction I was about to wreak upon this evil, vile, corrupt, villainous institution.

I retrieved my hammer, thoughtfully named Mjolnir, and proceeded to smash away at the chains of oppression that these thugs had placed up to trap the hapless, hopeless persons of the area in a criminal way for their own nefarious purpose. My relative, smiling ecstatically, thanked me and drove off into the night, free at last.

For good measure, I decided to take the long chain as booty, and to serve them a reminder that wherever there was injustice, the hammer of justice was sure to prevail.

That day I went to sleep feeling quite the hero.

Last night however, I came across a stark, grim realisation.

In an act of equal destructive proportion, some bandit had come into my building, located my bicycle which I used to go on adventures with the DBCK, proceeded to hack away at the chain I used to keep it safe on the stairwell, and the wretched thief made away with my bicycle in tow, as well as the small chain I used to keep it locked.

An Eye for an Eye, Iron for Iron, a Chain for a Chain.

Karma, Collects.

Part 2 - My Life in Exchange for Yours - Revelation of Tyrant

2011-07-12T12:31:00.000+03:00

Picking up where we left off, as Dear Anonymous wants to know, why was my first manager referred to as Tyrant in this story?

Read on, and once again, thank you for your time in reading this, all comments/ criticisms welcome :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since my return, Tyrant had pulled a 180 with me. The first 3 months I spent in his department he was firm, but fair, friendly even. This new side I was suddenly being shown was downright ugly. The side that everyone had warned me about the day I joined. I was being subjected to the same abuse his other accountants had grown accustomed and conceded to. There are a few incidents that are notable, and shall be discussed as the story continues.

During my absence, a new accountant was drafted to the team, as the senior accountant at the time was planning on leaving. Him being a fellow countryman, H-Mad shall be his name, we meshed instantly and became great friends – to this day.

His story was that he worked for a company, and left it to come to this one after a disagreement on his raise. We would spend the evenings together, hard at work as Tyrant toiled in his office behind us over the phone. I recall one incident where, after working for a straight 10 hours without a lunch break, I was sharing a kit-kat bar with H-Mad, so I passed it along over the top of our stalls, right under the nose of Tyrant, who could see it from his office. Apparently, the hungry hippo was craving a break and a kit-kat also, as the very next day, he sneered during his typical daily rant towards us by saying something along the lines of “and you stay overtime to just eat candy” infront of some other people in the office. He fancied himself a ladies man, although he was grotesquely rotund, he had a disgusting habit of sitting in his chair, pushing it back, and patting his immense girth like some savage caveman after a delicious meal.

One time in the office I was amused to hear the sound of what I believed to be a real purring cat, I thought it strange but declined to make any comment. Tyrant however would not be tethered, comes out of his office like a blundering ogre and proclaims who has a cat in here? In an amused, comedic voice. As soon as people started laughing, he realised something was wrong, and it was revealed that there was no actual cat in the office, only H-Mad's ringtone. To say Tyrant blew a gasket would be putting it mildly, he was furious at being made a laughing stock of he immediately ordered H-Mad to change his ring tone. Since we are on the subject of ringtones, Tyrant had a habit of yacking away on his phone for extended periods of time, being in accounts I saw that his monthly mobile bill was running close to the 300KD mark. Imagine, a 40-something year old man, who'se ringtone was the "Buttons" song by the PussyCat Dolls. It was like a bell around the neck of an enormous kitten, for everytime that music blared in the office, I knew he was close.

At that time, there was trainee from a subsidiary of the company, she had had a falling out with her supervisor and hence was to our department until things calmed down. She was Kuwaiti. It came onto me to train her, and I did. I even went the extra mile and made her quizzes, a to-do list, a job description, the whole enchilada. This seemed to fall on deaf ears with Tyrant, he did not care.

My patience was wearing thin; day after day the demeaning attitude would continue to reveal itself, all the while I was unaware as to the reason behind this sudden animosity.

One time I called him on it; in response to his constant berating comments to everyone (including myself) I walked into his office and told him, to his face, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. He proceeded to rant on about how when he was young they used to catch flies by rubbing vinegar on the inside of barrels. At that moment I was looking at him and wondering, what exactly is this swaggering oaf talking about, I was being hypothetical and here he is lecturing me on fly hunting.

H-Mad informed me one day that Tyrant had spoken to him and was planning to let me go. During that time, we had already interviewed a fresh new recruit who was to join the department, a girl, so my services would no longer be required.

This new girl, a friend of mine as well to this day as well, had been offered a salary higher than mine (the same salary I would use as a benchmark in future interviews), despite us both being fresh graduates. The only difference was, her residence was transferred, whereas mine was made from scratch.

Armed with the news that my job was in jeopardy, I spiraled into a chasm of depression. I lost weight, felt lethargic all day, lost sleep and felt utter despair when waking up in the morning to prepare for work. When at home, I would scour the papers and the online world for hints of job openings and would quickly send out my resume to any and all.

I had one bite during that period, an up-and-coming marketing agency in Kuwait City, the very heart of business in Kuwait. As it had been on my list to one time take a bus to a place I had never been to (and up to that point, I had never been to Kuwait city alone) and just walk about and get lost and find myself, I decided to embark upon that adventure and head on over there. The manager I met with was a middle aged woman, well dressed, veiled, who smoked like a chimney with the tell-tale voice of a caffeine/nicotine abuser. She had asked me to jump ship for the same salary, and another ambiguous position as she wanted to “feel out” where my talents lay. I had always wanted a job in marketing, but getting one for the same salary I was receiving seemed illogical, especially at the beginning of my career. So I gracefully turned down her offer.

One day, I had arrived early to the office, the exact time is forever etched in my memory, it was 7:50am; work officially starts at 8am. Tyrant was not there, so I thought to amuse myself a bit and was playing a mean game of Mine Sweep. The thing about my cubicle was he had clear access to stand beside me, out of my line of vision, and see me. So, for the first time in a lifetime, he came to work early, and saw me. As he started to bellow out that I was wasting office time, I told him I was not on the clock yet, as it was 7:50am. Later that day, the IT guy came to my desk to disable the games, it was unimportant however as I saw how he did it and was quick to reverse it.

This dance of one-upmanship continued for quite some time. During that period, and after lasting a whopping one or so months, H-Mad decided it was time to split, he had also had enough of Tyrant, and left the department over a disagreement regarding his leave request, which would serve as his honey moon as he was getting married, an issue he had previously discussed with Tyrant prior to joining. Tyrant reneged on his word, so my friend put forth his resignation papers. It was later revealed to me that the life expectancy (work wise) for most Arab nationals with Tyrant was around 6 months.

Once I had made a mistake on an entry a while ago that both he and his senior accountant had failed to detect before he posted it. Standard procedure dictate that the posted entry into the accounts system would need to be un-posted by IT. Previously, he would simply raise the telephone and make a call to the IT manager requesting the un-post. This time however, he asked me to photocopy the entry I had made, emblazoned it with a huge “Ayman says he made a mistake. Signed Tyrant” and asked me to hand-deliver it to the IT manager.

To those who may think that believe that since I was erring a lot, he was in his right position to criticize or admonish me, I say there are limits to criticism. I may not have been a grade-A student, I was however, smarter than the average person, as Yogi Bear said. I updated several processes that took tedious amounts of time, created several excel sheets that to this day are being used in Tyrants department, and even drafted an operating manual for the job description of accountant in his department. So yes, I had put in the effort, but it was met with scrutiny.

I was claiming my overtime for hours spent in the office one month, hours verified with a record due to the finger scanner, I was taken aback when Tyrant decided to slash my overtime and say, tough.

At the time that H-Mad had informed me that my job was near termination, he had helpfully passed my CV to a friend of his in a more well-known, more diversified local company in Al-Ardiya area. I had gone there for an interview and a test, and that is where I learnt to come up with my ultimate skiving excuse of claiming I had a flat tire on the way to work, and merely rubbing my hands over any car tire to add plausibility to my tall tale. If it fooled Tyrant, it can fool anyone.

The interview had gone well; however, the new job was stuck in limbo due to some inter-departmental conflict within that company regarding the hiring of certain nationalities over others.

July was fast approaching, and I had another event to attend – my elder brothers wedding.

Kuwaiti law stipulates that an employee is allowed to take an upaid vacation after completing 6-months of work. Technically, I had, so it was my entitlement.

Now it is noteworthy to mention that at the time, the “enslavement” policy of most local companies was still in effect; whereby the Human Resource department would hold on to your passport, until such time that you would request a leave, and then it would be handed to you, given the necessary paperwork. Up till that point in time, my passport was nestled safely in my possession. Once I had a sit-down with tyrant and informed him that I wanted to request a 2-week vacation to attend the wedding, I was met with a “where is your passport”, and “No, you cannot go”. He then proceeded to tell me how he had missed his nieces wedding for work, and how work was important, work came first.

I told him, point blank, I was going to attend the wedding. He ordered me to get my passport to him, and not only that, he forbade me from returning to work until such time as I would produce my passport.

I conceded, much to my chagrin.

Set your Limits, and then Exceed them

2011-07-12T11:13:00.001+03:00

As humans, we are prone to underestimating ourselves, limiting our capabilities, accepting less commendations despite earning them.

How often does the employee who toils in a company from 9~5 believe their work to be capable of being done by any random stranger, given proper training and time? Only to find upon leaving said job that the learning curve dropped drastically, and those once routine works performed by them appear tumultuous tasks to the new employee.

At times, people are content with lower levels of success as it means less work and responsibility on their shoulders, they see it that if one were to unleash their true potential, rise up higher on the corporate ladder, amass greater responsibility, work longer hours and generally be more miserable. This is a common misconception which is an internal roadblock to success and self-enrichment.

In underestimating ourselves, we leave little room for criticism. Just as a compliment can serve to send a person up to cloud no. 9, a criticism can shatter a spirit and will beyond repair.

Whereas if one were to delimit their potential, to accept that they are capable of great feats, of great understanding; sure-fire satisfaction will definitely follow.

Guesses and speculation, fear of the unknown, hesitance toward change, all cumber growth and potential.

Instead of the glass being half empty, it could very well be half full. You never know until you try.

"Not failure, but low aim, is a crime." - James Russell Lowell said that, I say, and thanks to my Anonymous Designer friend for this:

How often do we surprise even ourselves with our knowledge or skills? We are unable to praise ourselves properly for fear of sounding arrogant, but there is a thin line between Arrogance & Confidence. Our modesty prevents us from taking credit where credit is due.

As the lyric go:

I'm not cocky, I'm confident

So when you tell me I'm the best its a compliment - Ja Rule - New York

"Never be afraid to take pride in your accomplishments," says I.

GulfNet offers free DSL, no catch they say

2011-07-12T11:02:00.000+03:00

Or so their advertisement reads; the arabic part says the internet is on us, the router is on you.

If someone can call them up and check what the offer is:

Positivity after A series of Unfortunate Events

2011-07-11T12:06:00.000+03:00

In November of 2010, I was subjected to a series of unfortunate events enough to inspire a new novel by Daniel Handler, or a thriller by Steven King.

Let us start, at the beginning.

Eid Al-Adha break was slowly dawning upon us, the much anticipated public holiday for all working class folk, as it is almost a 4-day break, add a weekend to that, and a week off of work, and you have a free-long-holiday.

I was travelling back to Egypt for some much needed R&R and family time, little did I realise what awaited me.

It was at the airport, and the subsequent plane ride back home, that things started to take a tumble downhill at break-neck pace.

First off, I was blonde at the time, granted, it was self-inflicted and by my own (for pictures of that social experiment, click here), but to the unbeknownst stranger, it had to be a freak accident of chlorific proportions.

As is my habit, I had taken the window seat on the plane. Upon descent, I was awed by the amazing scenery below and quickly pulled out my camera to snap a few choice pictures. As the lens was pushing out, it hit the window of the plane, albeit lightly, however, the camera refused to open after that, giving me an error message.

Misfortune number 1.

I was upset at this, the camera was still new! However, I swallowed that lump of discontent and thought positively, I was sure I would be able to find someone to fix it.

Upon landing, I quickly slipped my local SIM card into my phone, the number I had had since I started university in 2002, 8 years ago, all my friends knew me by that number. It did not register, a trip to Vodafone later that evening confirmed my uneasy suspicion, something had gone horribly wrong, and my number was recycled.

Misfortune number 2.

When the Vodafone employee requested to see some form of ID, be it a Civil ID or a driver's license, I was shocked to discover that I had forgotten both my Civil ID and Driver's License in Kuwait!

Misfortune number 3.

I had my brother help me out with his ID, and I acquired a new line. Upon getting home and firing it up in my phone, the fourth shock of the evening took place. My phone was not working.

Misfortune number 4.

Fortunately, that was rectified quickly via my cousin, who was quick to take my phone to a pro who reset it, with little loss of data, albeit a few new contacts.

The next day I set about getting my camera fixed with another cousin of mine. Note that I was wearing the same jeans from my flight, my favorite pair.

Finding the licensed maintenance shop was an adventure in itself, after visiting 3 different locations, the last one gave us an inconspicuous sliver of paper with a number, call the number and we got an address. The initial estimate for repair was quarter of the cost, I reluctantly agreed. After waiting there for half an hour, I was informed that the lens needed replacing, and the cost would be almost half of the original price. I adamantly refused and asked him to put it back together and give it to me. I was delayed a further half hour, and was utterly surprised when the technician started using my camera infront of me. Apparently, it was a mere problem of dust in the mechanism, and it would cost me the inspection fees only, a very minimal amount.

I did discover at the shop that my favorite pair of jeans were torn in a very "sensitive" place, whilst sitting across from a lady no less! So I had to throw them away.

Misfortune number 5.

However, all these trials and tribulations were a prelude to a Magical, Serendipitous event that took place on the 25th of November, for on that auspicious day, Destiny decided to compensate me in full for the previous calamities.

It involved me, and a beautiful woman, and it made all those misfortunes worthwhile. For in essence, those misfortunes had faciliated our meeting so-to-speak. And thus began a story that will continue for the rest of our lives.

Suffice to say, all the above misfortunes, sans the torn jeans, were rectified; my new number was much cooler than my old one, I had a friend in Kuwait DHL my ID and license to me (discovering that there was a DHL outlet right behind my house because the delivery man came when I was out), my phone and camera were fixed.

So with all those misfortunes, something beautiful came out of it in the end.

God bless.

Setting Precedent - Freedom Run to Tahrir Square

2011-07-11T10:18:00.001+03:00

This day in age, people can voice their opinion in a myriad of ways. Some go on hunger strikes, some shed their clothes, some bear signs and take to the streets, some blog, others tweet.

And some, like me, run to make a point.

Thursday 14th of July shall mark my return to my homeland, Egypt. I live in Nasr City, Abbas el-Ackad to be exact.

Friday morning, I shall take to the streets, and jog to Tahrir Square. The distance 12~15KM give or take.

This is my way of showing the spirit of the Egyptian people; a testament to our long winded-ness. The wheels of justice may be slow, but they shall move, as clear as I shall move to Tahrir Square.

We each do our part to contribute to the better whole, this is my calling.

I do not do this with any form of sponsorship, this not a socio-economic or political stunt.

This route has not been pre-planned. I run at my own risk, for there are no pedestrian paths for me to follow.

I am not running to raise money, but awareness. Terry Fox did it for cancer, I will do it for Egypt.

Maybe this will serve to set a precedent, one day, someday soon, this could become an annual event, a walkathon, a charity fund-raiser, for any and all to partake, in commemoration of the determination of the Egyptian people, and in honor of those who fell during the Egyptian Uprising.

I shall track the course via Sports-Tracker and upload it once I am done.

إذا الشـــعبُ يومًــا أراد الحيــاة, فــلا بــدّ أن يســتجيب القــدرْ

If the People Desire to Live, Fate Must Respond Indeed

My Life in Exchange for Yours - When Destiny Comes Knocking part 1

2011-07-10T12:46:00.000+03:00

I wish to become a writer, and this is my first attempt at penning a self-help/ autobiographical few chapters that are intended, in essence, to help people believe in the fact that destiny does indeed exist in this world today. What better way to do so than to give examples from my past experiences that are testament to that very fact?

When I sat down to write, I was surprised to have covered 9 full pages initially. Knowing that this is a considerable amount to read all at once, I'll break it down into smaller portions to be read at leisure.

So without further adieu, allow me to take you on a journey into the past, and thank you in advance for your time.

(All comments and criticisms are appreciated!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1 - The First Job

On December 10, 2006 I re-entered Kuwait, with a dream in my mind and a song in my heart. Back to the country where I had spent the majority of my young adult life, this time without the guise of requesting knowledge. I had returned on a visitor’s visa to find a job.

I did not know where to begin, I sent countless CVs to dozens of companies, went over all the ads in all the newspapers, but to no avail. The main prerequisite for finding employment in Kuwait was a “transferable residency”, which I did not have.

Fate, as it so often does, decided to take pity on me, and with her oh-so beautiful face flash me a brilliant smile. My search concluded a mere 11 days later, having interviewed and gotten accepted to work as an accountant for a local company with a myriad of operations that involved retail, engineering, agriculture and manufacturing. A friend of a friend knew that a manager at her company was looking for an English speaking accountant, submitted my resume, and I got a call to come in for an interview.

Little did I realize however, that I was heading down the wrong path; a path of depression and self doubt.

At the time, life seemed good. The manager, that had interviewed me did not discuss a salary, as he said he would “judge” my potential within the 3-months period and then give me a figure. I was not paid a red fils for that entire period. He gave me a line that I became equipped to hearing in all interviews I sat for, you have potential, I can mold you into something. So, I foolishly decided to leave my career in the hands of this seemingly pleasant stranger.

Initially, I had also applied to join NBK. Of course, getting into NBK required a few known associates, lets call it as it is – Wasta, and I remember stapling that Wastas business card to the front of my application as I sent it in. they called back for an interview, I took part, I got offered another job. I believe it would have been call center.

I discussed this with Tyrant, whom I had been working for for almost a week. His initial response was shock. He took that as a flaw in my character, already seeking other employment in spite of his taking me in. I weighted the options before hand; NBK was offering a call center job, erratic hours, a yet unknown salary, a friendly atmosphere of peers, and the chance to work for a bank. Whilst here, I was being offered an accountancy role, close to my field of study (I was a business admin major), and the potential to be “molded” into a manager at some point in time.

I declined the offer with NBK, deciding to stick to my current promise.

Destiny and fate intertwined, as this was but the first branching of career path. I am sure that in some alternate universe, Lord Aymz had indeed chosen to accept NBKs offer, and how his life turned out, I can only guess.

Working at that company, I got to slowly dip my feet in the work pool and garnish a modest understanding of accounts. I was nothing more than a glorified data entry analyst, and my seeming savior turned to be no more than a demented demon, a Tyrant, as he shall be referred to henceforth.

The place I was working was considered the head office for the multiple operations of this company, so everyone was either an accountant, a secretary, or a manager. It did not take me long to be introduced to the majority of the workplace, and to find out that I was the youngest one there. My friendly demeanor made many open up to me, and they turned my attention to the fact that no Arab national had ever lasted long with Tyrant. I heeded their warning, however, I had seen nothing, yet, to verify their claims.

Tyrant had a filthy work ethic; his department was made up of 4 accountants at the time, and I had joined them as a junior. I quickly discovered that internet access was prohibited, so I took to searching the office network for documents to quell my hunger for reading things on a screen, there I discovered the word “Bio Data”, which seemingly is a biological term of metrics, turned out to be nothing more than a fancy word for curriculum vitae.

The working hours were Saturday to Wednesday from 8am till 4pm, and a half-day on Thursday, from 8am till 1pm. This was before a two-day weekend was declared for all, or should I say, the majority of companies. Tyrant however, had other plans.

Tyrant demanded overtime, which is not a bad thing, on the surface, as we were getting paid for the time we remained in office, even if it was to just twiddle our thumbs. The jist of it was we were not allowed to think of leaving until 6pm, you needed permission to leave on time, imagine that. Later, I came to realize that this tactic was to dispel the possibility of his accountants seeking interviews with other companies.

In all honesty, for the first 3 months of my employment, I had felt no ill-will from Tyrant. I was beginning to wonder if people were wrong about him; despite seeing his hard, rough, crude demeanor with others, he had been relatively easy with me. His vile side was that he would literally wipe the floor with his other accountants, with a thunderous, bellowing voice, in front of everyone. There is an Arabic saying which goes along the lines of, if you wish you criticize me, do it in private, if you wish to praise me, do it in public. With him it was the opposite.

I put in the overtime, tried as much as I could to learn something useful, and passed the time by reviewing more bio-data’s.

Time, as it has a habit of doing, passed. And the 3-months visit visa came to an end. I was then to travel back to Egypt and process the documents for my permanent visa. The first nail in the coffin of my career as an accountant with that company came with the declaration of my salary; it was below what I expected, contrary to his words of “molding” me into something. I shrugged it off, considered it to be me paying my dues, doing my time in the trenches. I did however voice my indignation to Tyrant.

After 3 months of grueling work, with countless hours of overtime, I was finally on my way back home, a rest of around 20 or days as I ran cross-country to finish my paperwork, got x-rayed, poked by needles, spilt blood and sweat to finish in due time, all the while calling Tyrant by phone to update him on my status.

My paperwork was done, and surprisingly, coincidentally, fate once again intervened to plot this auspicious occasion, as the day of my return coincided with 3 joyous occasions.

My birthday. My younger brother’s birthday and his graduation.

Yes, April 21st 2007, I was back in Kuwait, with residency process papers in hand, ready to celebrate both my birthday, my young brothers birthday, along with his graduation – all on the same day.

Then came the change at the workplace that set of a series of events that would prove the most beneficial to me.

~~~~~~~~

Tomorrow, we shall see why I refer to Tyrant as such, and how he turned a full 180, from good to devil in under 3 seconds.

Know your Rights as a Consumer in Q8 - Read the Invoice

2011-07-10T11:37:00.000+03:00

Always make it a habit to read the back of any invoice you receive when shopping for consumer products such as electronics etc. it makes a difference, trust me.

The past weekend proved to be a strange one. First, I awoke on Friday morning to find an unexpected visitor at my door. A cute, furry, lively, tiny, white rabbit. He proved to be a very welcome addition over the weekend. He did not arrive at my doorstep by chance; our neighbors across the hall own him as a pet, both he and a grey bunny, and they had left them outside their doorstep, Roger as I later came to call him, escaped his box and ventured across the tiled floor to my door.

Unfortunately, his owners have now removed the box, probably back into their house, and I am left heartbroken. In the 2 days I got to enjoy his company, I came to discover that I am now a rabbit person, no longer a cat person.

Roger, the rabbit that captured my heart ="(

So, during Friday, it was fated that my central AC unit goes kaput. In Kuwait’s arid climate, this is becoming of a death sentence, not just a minor inconvenience. Seeing as how this happened at night, I had to endure until Saturday, as that was when the technicians could come in.

3am on Saturday morning I went to take a friend to the airport, whilst telling my unfortunate story of no AC and no sleep, he suggested I pass by Alghanim Electronics on Tunis St. as they were open 24 hours a day.

Faced with the prospects of restless sleep, I agreed, bid him farewell at the departure hall, and went on my merry way to the store.

Now, upon selecting a fan, paying for it and subsequently receiving it, I noted that the carton in which the fan came was torn on the side. Lesson one, never accept a product that has a torn carton, you will come to know why in a second.

It was 3:30am, I wanted to sleep, so I did not complain. At home, Roger was awaiting my arrival, and in a feat of lucky rabbit feet, it appeared that the AC had repaired itself!

Upon putting the fan together, I noticed that the bottom stand of the fan was rather incredibly filthy. This further fueled my suspicion that this product was returned by someone, or that it had been on display.

I decided to take the fan back to Alghanim. I scrutinized their invoice meticulously, on the front page at the bottom in fine print it read that items once sold cannot be returned, refunded or exchanged. I was disheartened, I read the back of the invoice and, the first point stated in black and white that an item can be returned within 48 hours of purchase so long as it is in its original purchase condition. The item can be exchanged for a similar one, or a cash voucher can be received in its stead for the amount (few companies offer cash refunds).

Armed with this new revelation, I headed out to the showroom once more.

First I was asked at the sales counter to check with the technician, so I proceeded to show the technician that the bottom side of the fan did indeed look filthy. His prognosis, this is not a technical fault and he cannot authorize anything without the managers approval. Please check with the manager.

this is what it looked like, granted no one will view it, still, it looked "used"

I went to the managers office, he was no where to be found. I was then told to go to customer service, again, no one there except a man on a phone who told me to sit down and wait (politely) and that the customer service rep was on his way.

I waited there for 2 minutes whilst he yacked away on the phone, oblivious to my presence, then decided to check with the manager again.

Lo and behold, he had returned to his office.

Up to this point, it is important to note another revelation; do not go into detail about your issue with someone who cannot help, as it will be a waste of both your time and theirs. Hence, I had not spoken to the customer service telephony guy about my problem. So far, only the technician knew.

So, I met with the manager, told him my story, he asked a salesman to get a piece out of stock and check it, and at the same time, to check the item on display.

Both options showed that the bottom on all of the fans looked exactly the same.

Back in the managers office, I told him that I wished to return the fan. He said I cannot return it. I told him the invoice clearly states if it is returned within 48 hours that I can, given its original purchase condition. He responds by saying don’t take words out of context, read the whole paragraph, it says there must be a technical fault with the item. I did, and it did not.

This banter went on for some time. His second argument was that the box was torn, I told him that I had received it like that initially. He asked to check with the salesman from the graveyard shift, see if me made any note (henceforth, if you do agree to buy a product with a defective carton, make sure to take a picture of it inside the showroom) I waited for some time, and in the end, the manager conceded to taking back the fan and giving me store credit. the minimum denomination for store credit was 10KD, so I paid them the difference between the purchase price and 10KD, received my credit voucher and was on my merry way.

Always make it a habit to read the invoice. And there is no such thing as any item being “inferred”, if it is not written in plain, bold English, it does not exist.

Q8 Foot Soldiers

2011-07-05T12:21:00.001+03:00

(Special thanks goes to my anonymous friend in charge of picturising my ideas and bringing them to fruition, giving a whole new dimension to my writing)

Get your move on and Join the ranks.

We live in a health conscientious world, where people are counting calories and weighting ingredients to get the exact amount of calories/ energy out of their nutrition.

Truth be told, I do not believe in that; I do not check the Nutritional Information on food packets, I do not count calories. I try as much as possible to avoid excessive carbohydrates, such as rice, pasta, white bread etc. opting to substitute whole wheat bread, oatmeal and tuna whenever I can. I drink green tea for its perceived benefits, not out of want of its bland taste.

And also, I run. I Love Running. 9 years ago my uncle called me up early morning once and said, do you want to join me for a run around the park? At first I did for the sake of being with my uncle, but then, the rest as they say, is history. I had a new-found love in my life, ofcourse, I never calculated that the calories I burnt running were added back after going for breakfast with my uncle, but still, it was the beginning of a blossoming romance that has lasted to date.

Kuwait has a running warrior, the only person in Kuwait who can stake claim to that title, Yousef Al-Qanai of Aymstrong.com whom I had referenced previously in past posts. In the span of one race, he ran more miles than I have clocked since I started using Sports-Tracker (here) in January!

http://www.sports-tracker.com/#/workout/lordaymz/pes8el959ejlsmp1

my longest run, done as training for the 21K run earlier this year

There is a link to how the application, available for android, apple and symbian phones, works. It is my key motivator now, to record my distance, top speed etc.

I live in Hawalli, and one day, it just came to me to get my shoes on and go running, and ever since that fateful day 4 years ago, I have been tweaking my route till I can accomplish an 18KM run from my doorstep, around Hawalli's outer edges, and back again.

I doubt I can find anyone willing to join me for such a run, but the idea of Q8 Foot Soldiers is to get the youths here interested in running again.

Honestly, when I was in highschool, running was the farthest thing on my mind, I was most likely to be found sitting in the stands munching away on small Pizza's on sports day, I never participated in any race except the novelty race in elementary school!

So this initiative is meant to get people running again. To break away from the couch, the internet, and get moving. I found that the best times to run are the early morning hours on a fri-sat, where the air is crisp and cool, and the sun is beginning to rise over the horizon, with traffic at a bear minimum.

The most important item you will need for running is a decent pair of running shoes. With a budget of 10~20KD you can get a decent pair, I have yet to try out the 50KD ones and see if they do make a difference. However, quite honestly, running shoes do make a difference, and it is always prudent to know when to toss an old pair out. Micoach on the android market or iTunes store also has the functionality of tracking your shoes wear and tear for you.

Running shoes are meant to be used for a period no longer than 6 months. Trust me, you will feel the difference when you buy new shoes, I used to end my runs in severe pain as I was donning a pair of old shoes. To me, so long as they were not torn, they were "road-worthy", however that was not the case. The cushioning is extremely important if you wish to maintain a good pace, and not have any difficulties later in life.

I have a pair of shoes that I used to go running in (9 years ago) and I still have them to date! They have fallen apart numerous times and I take them to a guy to stick it back together, I do not run in them anymore, they are merely the reminder of my jogging days, as they were the first pair I wore to run.

They say walking/ running makes us live longer, I say life is in god's hands, but we can take the active steps to better ourselves.

This blog shall be the launching pad for Q8 Foot Soldiers - Runners of Tomorrow, Today. We do not have to run in groups, but a synchronised run around Kuwait by members in different areas would be awesome. I know I am looking forward to expanding my horizon and running a different 18K route, or more, hoping to one day clock a perfect Marathon.

So ladies and gentlemen, lace 'em up and hit the ground running.

And for those dwellers of Hawally who want to join me, we can start small by running around the North Campus of GUST near Beirut St.

PS for those like me who tire easily when running around a track and prefer "street running" (not parkour, altho I am interested in that as well!), please take the necessary precautions such as:

- Running AGAINST traffic, not with it, so that cars are always coming at you, not up from behind you.

- Always look Ahead when running.

- Do not wear anything heaving on your hands, and keep your elbows bent.

- When sprinting, employ the full use of your arms.

- Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth.

- Pace yourself.

- Hydrate properly, before and after running.

- Stretch properly before running, and warm down afterward.

Blogging Tips - Using Pictures to Illustrate Points

2011-07-04T12:15:00.001+03:00

A picture paints a thousand words; and bloggers are infamous for using thousands of words, and articulating them further by adding photographs.

Some bloggers are very tech savvy and make their own imagery, others, like myself, rely on the strength of our imagination and a few, specific search strings on Google (images.google.com).

I doubt you can find a single person who is not familar with Cartoon Stock (Google it), their imagery is very effective and sometimes can be used to further illustrate a point that a blogger is trying to make. They are however, a mere copy of "The Far Side", to those of you who remember it, they made wonderfully hilarious calendars back in the day. I used to enjoy visiting my uncle to flip through the Far Side calendar and laugh.

However, notice how the image always has an imbedded watermark at the top that reads "publishing rights obtainable from cartoonstock.com".

Which basically means that, despite the content being readily available online, you cannot just copy the link and insert it into your blog without permission (i.e. royalties).

The majority of bloggers are blogging as a habit, with no monetary value either paid or received through their blog. It seems mundane to request bloggers to pay money for sharing an image when they infact are not gaining anything monetary from that image or their blog itself.

The reason I am writing this is because recently I read on a fellow bloggers website how they were sent an email from some site or other requesting that the blogger either take down a picture they used from their site, or they will send them an invoice. Bear in mind this blogger is in Kuwait, and the website in question was UK-based.

Bear in mind, I am not an alpha blogger; in no way, shape or form am I eluding to that by offering advice. It is merely something that came to me as an idea, and I feel it would be beneficial to the blogging community as a whole to know this.

So, you want to add a picture to your blog, and the "Man" doesn't want you to. What to do?

First off, how do websites/ artists track who is using their image(s) without their consent (if they requested it)?

All images have "tags" on them, and maybe when you link to an image through its URL it registers on some log or other that this has occurred, hence the original artist is informed that you are using this without their permission (I'm guessing here).

This has happened to me before, I linked a certain picture to my blog, and then when I was checking the post, the picture had changed to something along the lines of (this picture was obtained without prior consent hence it has been removed) or an anecdote or funny remark meaning the same.

Another way for an artist to know who has been using their pictures without permission is through TinEye (here) which allows you to search USING images, so if you have a picture of something, you upload it to that site and it searches for all other sites on which this image exists. (very nifty).

All you have to do is stop using links for pictures. Opt instead to save the picture onto your computer. For safe measure, right click on the image, go to properties, click on the summary tab and check for any URL imbedded into the photo (delete it), then go into the advanced mode and do the same, once you find anything imbedded, delete it. Now you can upload the image to your blog as a picture, not a URL.

Now, short of the original artist going to your blog personally (or using TinEye) to search for their work, you will be safe from the greedy corporations that want to exploit every penny out of you.

Disclaimer: Artists are entitled to remuneration. The author does not condone theft nor does he accept any responsibility for how this information is used.

The Psychology of Friendship

2011-07-04T11:38:00.000+03:00

The term Friend is defined as:

- A person you know well and regard with affection and trust.
- An associate who provides cooperation or assistance.
- A person with whom you are acquainted.
- A person who backs a politician or a team etc.

Sociologists have put a cap on the number of friends that a person can properly have at 150; despite some people on Facebook boasting friends in the high thousands.

The infamous words of Baz Luhrman's "Sunscreen Song" always shine through when I think of friends:

Understand that friends come and go,

but for the precious few you should hold on.

Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle,

because the older you get,

the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

A question that is on the minds of many however, is when to let a friendship end? Do friendships in fact come to end, or do they merely enter a prolonged status of hibernation?

Friendships are a precious thing, never to be taken lightly or for granted. Some require constant nourishment; others can lie dormant for elongated periods of time, and spring to life the moment choices necessitate. It takes a sharp mind to differentiate between such friendships, and those where one or both of the parties merely use the other at their time of need.

The problem however is that we have become too accustomed to giving out the label of friend to everyone that it has lost all meaning.

As with everything else, the internet has severely diluted the connotation behind the term friend, we apply it without bias to both people we have known since preschool, as well as casual acquaintances we came across during a holiday or so and will most probably never meet in person again.

For anything to be maintained there must exist a balance in the scales; a give-and-take, push-and-pull. Friendships do not abide by this rule, as it is quite common to cases where one person gives without limits, and the other barely reciprocates, or worse, does not reciprocate at all.

I am talking about the lost-puppy syndrome, filling someone's life with attention and gifts on the off-chance that said person might take interest and reciprocate, trying harder and harder to make that impression where in reality, all you are doing is pushing that person further away, the proverbial grasping at straws. It happens in romantic relationships as well as platonic ones.

I once had a friend, correction; I have a friend who, as a child growing up, I considered my best friend. He was a neighbor, an ally on the “streets” (boys will be boys), suffice to say, a great childhood friend. We bickered and fought, as friends have a habit of doing, but beneath it all, we were solid.

Fast forward to a decade and more later, I would meet said-close friend coincidentally in a mall, and we would recognize each other, exchange pleasantries and phone numbers, promise to keep in touch, and be on our separate ways, knowing full well that I would neither call him, nor would he call me.

Why is that? Simply put, we have grown apart, we were friends from a young age for a very long time, but time, as it has a habit of doing, passes. The children grow up, and the folly of youthfulness is replaced with the toils of the day to day life.

People have a habit of growing apart; there is nothing wrong with that. What differs between different cases however, is the foundation upon which that friendship was built. I know that with this friend, should the need ever arise that he call upon me, or vice versa, that we would both be there.

Unfortunately, we sometimes pretend that that foundation exists in all our friendships, which is not the case. We seek to project the image we have of a friendship, and superimpose it upon the reality, drawing a veil upon our eyes and seeing the world as we wish to see it.

By itself, that is not a terrible thing, however, it is at times viewed as a sign of weakness that allows the so-called friend to take advantage of us. Those who have been stung by such friends will understand the gravity of the situation.

In the end, friendships are a precious thing. We cannot survive without them, it takes a wise person to know when to sever the cord of a parasitic friendship, and when to reconnect with old friends who are worth it. Live by the philosophy that everyone is a friend until the prove otherwise, but be savvy enough to read between the lines.

Not every person we come across will be memorable in our lives, but they will play the role they are meant to play, and you will be a better person for it. - Aymz

PS understand that in the above context, the word "friendship" can easily be replaced with the word "relationship".

CC's in Office Correspondence, whats up with that?

2011-06-28T12:26:00.000+03:00

It took me a while when I started working to understand the concept of the words CC & BCC in emails.

Maybe, just maybe, there are others out there who were/ are as oblivious as I once was regarding these two devils. So, lets shed some light on this situation.

CC- Carbon Copy; same concept as a forward, more business-like.

BCC- Blind Carbon Copy; email goes to these people annonymously, no one else can see that they were included.

I find it rather, irritating, when someone sends you an email with a request or statement, and your manager is in the CC.

As an auditor, I can understand that, its called Accountability. You are proving to your manager that you have done something, or requested something, so if you do not receive any feedback, you have done your part and your manager is aware.

Is it official? Yes.

Is it compulsory @ times? Yes.

However, that still does not diminish the fact that it is annoying.

Also, the part of "please confirm receipt of email", Outlook took it a step further and instead of asking you to re-email someone, it simply informs you that the sender requires read-receipt, please accept.

Office Politics...

*Sigh*

Expats have a New Address in Kuwait - EEK! Magazine

2011-06-27T13:07:00.000+03:00

Despite the sweltering heat, blowing dust and vile humidity that tend to frequent the atmosphere in Kuwait, causing a myriad of problems, both health and holiday, for it seems the dust is eagerly awaiting the weekend to embrace Kuwait in its sandy bosom; Kuwait remains a destination for transients and travellers alike.

For those living in Kuwait who want to be kept up-to-date with the happenings, the events scheduled to take place, the groups they can join, the offers available etc. And even for those living abroad who wish to get a better understanding of life in Kuwait through the eyes of expats; there is a simple answer to quell queries of both.

and that answer is EEK!

Forgive me, for that is no shrill shriek, it is merely the title of Kuwait's weekly Expat Magazine.

Whether you are looking for an apartment, an interest group, looking to buy, or even sell furniture, a car. EEK! is the magazine for you, delivered straight to your inbox in pdf format, it makes for an interesting read.

The number of subscribers is steadily escalating, and pretty soon it will be received and enjoyed by all expats in Kuwait, and all those around the globe wishing to come to Kuwait as well.

As I said previously, expats can use this magazine as a guide to Kuwait. A way to connect with social groups, events etc. For those leaving Kuwait, it is the perfect place to put their wares on sale, and those coming to Kuwait, it is a perfect place to pick up experience and living items at less-than-retail-price.

What do you have to be a part of this? Simple, send an email to info@expatserviceskuwait.com

Check out their website: http://www.abcq8.com/

So expats, locals, potentials, and everyone else, enjoy EEK!

I know I certainly do.

Why I Blog

2011-06-27T12:39:00.000+03:00

We are all put on this earth with a purpose. Some are made to save lives, some are made to protect lives, some are made to educate, some are made to sing, and some are made to write.

It is every bloggers wish to have a readership. And it is every bloggers wish to read comments from other like minded individuals who have taken the time out of their lives to read what this blogger had to say and added their own input; their two cents.

This came to my email, from an Anonymous reader, who liked the quote I came up with at the end of one of my posts (here), and augmented it by doing the following:

Dear reader, to you I say thank you. Unbeknownst to you, this has been a rough day from the get go, and this gift you gave me has served to lighten my mood a great deal, a great, great deal.

Rest assured Anonymous, it is indeed my background now. Your work is amazing, and your concept adds all the more value to what I wrote.

I will go and add that picture to the post itself.

God bless you, and all readers everywhere.

Al-Nasser Sports Item FAIL

2011-06-26T12:18:00.000+03:00

Truth be told, I should be mad @ Al-Nasser sports for promulgating the name "Nasser", which has been the bane of my existence in Kuwait, being a Nassar (no Al), I cannot count the number of times my name has been written as Al-Nasser.

All that aside, Al-Nasser Sports is a true story of Kuwaiti accomplishment and achievement.

Once upon a time, in a complex in Hawally called "Adasani" (or مجمع العدساني), which was a one-stop shop for clothing items and the "latest" fashion. One the forefront of the mall, to the far left corner, there used to be a rather large sports shop called Al-Nasser Sports (here), selling clothing apparel on the ground floor, as well as equipment and more clothing apparel in the basement. i.e. the store had 2 locations within the large complex made up of 3 floors (basement, ground and 1st).

This was ofcourse during the 90s, the golden age of Kuwait in my honest opinion.

Fast forward to 2011, and Al-Nasser Sport has become a HUGE competitor on the sports apparel scene in Kuwait. Remember those two shops it had in Al-Adasani Complex? They were closed down, because Al-Nasser Sport built an entire new BUILDING the size of the complex, right behind it, to house their goods. Talk about expansion.

The reason Al-Nasser Sports is such a success is because it carries no-named brands, or brands that are not as well-known in the sports universe such as Adidas, Nike, Puma, Reebok etc. Hence the keywords are economic and affordable.

However, I was recently there a while ago and came across the following display:

Now, I am no Marketeer, however I pride myself on having a keen eye for colors, and the above color combinations are HORRENDOUS! These items are on sale at the counter, and quite honestly, they would put me off of purchasing anything, as some of the combinations are vomit-inducing.

Had they been plainly colored, one may have overlooked the flamboyant coloring, however, sticking a flag in the middle and not paying attention to the clash of colors is downright negligent.

I wouldn't use them if they were gifted to me.

authors note: this post is not meant to degrade or defame Al-Nasser Sports Center, however it is meant to draw attention to the minor flaws that, if rectified, can serve to enhance its current position

Pizza Hut's Super Supreme Customer Service

2011-06-26T11:37:00.000+03:00

246-50-50 Pizza Hut delivery ready to go.

That is the jingle I remember playing on the radio back in the days of middle school.

For the longest time, Pizza Hut (here) had been the dominant force to be reckoned with in the pizza pie industry, before there was a Papa John's or a Peppe's Pizza in Kuwait. They were the first to bring the stuffed crust onto the market here.

Whether or not they are the greatest pizza makers in Kuwait is debatable, I myself am more of a fan of Domino's Pizza, their dough is much lighter. However, Pizza Hut will always be Pizza Hut, just like Pepsi will always be Pepsi, despite the emergence of several other competitors.

Last thursday we were hosting a family member over and decided to go for Pizza Hut's Mighty Variety offer; this is not a food critic's blog, so I will not dive into the details of the meal, suffice to say it contained four different pizza toppings, cheese-garlic bread, chicken rollers, chicken wings and wedges.

I placed my order @ roughly 9, the pizza came in due time.

I was put off by the fact that the following happened:

1) The pizza topping was stuck to the top of the box.
2) The pizza bottom was also stuck to the bottom of the box.
3) The dough felt raw, and upon inspection, a clear white middle could be seen in the pizza slice, with the bottom a healthy beige colour.

We had a guest over, so the evening continued as previously planned, and when it came time to bid him farewell, at the stroke of midnight, I felt compelled to call up Pizza Hut and inform them of my comments.

I believe the number on the receipt was 22244555, which is their customer service hotline, I called up and immediately had my call answered by a charming fellow who noted my complaint, my phone number and the time of my order. He told me he would have the branch manager of the branch which sent out the pizza call me back in 10 minutes.

10 minutes later, I receive a call from another charming fellow who asks me what had happened, and I informed him, he inquired as to whether there were any pieces remaining of the pizza for "analysis", and I told him that yes, there had been a few pieces left over, and that I would have called them earlier had I not been entertaining a guest, as it seemed preposterous to wait twice as long for food to arrive.

What was the managers solution?

He sent me a whole other pizza (offer without the additions), for FREE, in exchange for the remaining pieces to be analysed at their restaurant.

Despite having said earlier that I would boycott Pizza Hut for their failed standards, never-the-less I still remain a Pizza Hut enthusiast at heart, and will continue to use order, if simply for the fact that they know how to treat a customer.

This reminds me of another fast-food incident I had, once upon a time I was addicted to KFC's "Big Filler" chicken sandwich. As I work close to Al-Shamiya, I decided to pay the branch there a visit and quell my hungry taste buds desire for a Big Filler. I was informed at the counter that the branch had "run out" of Big Filler sandwich buns, and that they (KFC Shamiya) can make the same sandwich in a different sandwich bun. Being an auditor at heart, I asked if the other sandwich bun was the same size as the Big Filler, for those of you who have tried it, it is a Big Filler indeed. I was told the size difference was negligible. So I agreed and paid and waited.

What I found out when I got home was that the sandwich was MUCH smaller than it should have been, and that the chicken used was stale i.e. had no moisture, dry, tasteless.

I called up the management to voice a complaint, and at the time I had fed the chicken to my cat, so when they asked whether or not the sandwich was still available, and I said no, they replied along the lines of "tough".

Since then, I have never gone back to the Big Filler.

So Pizza Hut, I commend their efforts on listening to their customers, and applaud the fact that a customers voice does indeed carry weight in the State of Kuwait.

Sorry Colonel, the Hut always wins ;)