The Butterfly Diaries 08 - The Migration Mistake
The series of events that had started at a 5-star hotel was coming to an end at a railway station. Six of us stood in front of the train. It had a bit of déjà vu for me and my Malayali friend – once again a bachelor home being split right across the middle. Ready to board the train with me was our fourth roommate. Unlike me, he was excited about the move.
Meanwhile another scene was being enacted right next to us. A girl from our batch had come to send off Mr. Zest. She had successfully warded off the attempt to separate her from him during the Pune transfers. But not this time. Her eyes brimming with tears, she flung her arms around him as he got ready to board the train. The three of us stood in a silent huddle. The sixth person on the platform stood apart and watched.
I wondered how it would have been to have received such a farewell from that ‘her’. My Malayali friend seemed to have read what was going on in my head. “Dude!” he said. The other’s eyes sparkled mischievously. It was these two who had stalled any such attempts. “Leave all this behind in Chennai,” they had said, firmly.
“Guys, we will miss the train,” called out No. 4. Mr. Zest and I spoke fondly about our days in Chennai with No. 4 interrupting now and then to ask questions about the logistics of reporting at the Bangalore office.
While Mr. Zest and I were returning to our hometown, No. 4 would have to go through the whole rigmarole of finding a place to stay. As I was undergoing the first real transfer of my career, dad would be going through his last one, returning from Nagpur to Bangalore. There would be some settling down required – a bit like dad’s transfers of old.
The company had even perfectly timed our travel to match a holiday – it was May Day. So much for labor rights. We were to report to our new business unit head the next morning.
The Bangalore campus was vast and sprawling – with twenty-five software development blocks as against Chennai’s paltry two. Right next to the gate was an empty plot with a large hoarding that read, “Trespassers will be recruited.” Wait what? No. I had read wrong. It was “Trespassers will be prosecuted”
The new business unit head seemed chattier than our old one. After sharing with us ten minutes’ worth of corporate wisdom, he handed us over to a lady sitting in a project manager’s cubicle. The lady smiled at us warmly and got us to introduce ourselves. Then suddenly a frown formed above her spectacles. “There has been some mistake. We were expecting only two people from Chennai for the Migration project. The other two are already here from Bhubaneswar. Let me see,” she said.
It turned out I was the ‘mistake’. “You don’t worry. We will sort it out,” she told me. “You both come with me,” she said to the other two and took them away.
But I was worried. Was this going to turn out to be yet another Ersatz Elevator? Would they send me back to Chennai? I mean that would not be a bad thing. But…
After what seemed like hours and hours, she returned. “I have written to Chennai about you. Meanwhile since you are here, I do not want you to be idle.”
I remembered the sign outside the campus. Perhaps I had not misread it after all.
She called over someone from her team. “You said you wanted an additional member for your testing team, didn’t you? Here is someone you can use. At least for now.”
He gave me an overview of the project. It was an application being modernized for a German insurance company. Then, he in turn passed me on to a young lady in his team. I wondered who she would pass me on to next.
Unfortunately for her, fortunately for me, she had no one else to pass me on further down the line. She just explained my work to me and got me started.
Meanwhile Mr. Zest and No. 4 were settling down in their migration project, which was an offshoot of the main project, meant to migrate data from legacy systems.
One might wonder what the big deal is in moving data. The move itself is easy. The important thing is to ensure that the data remains the same at its core while acquiring an ability to interact with the elements of the new environment. Mr. Zest, for instance, was still the same but he would need to charm the two Bhubaneswar girls afresh the way he had charmed the two Internet stream girls. No. 4 and I were still the same, but now project mates rather than roommates. So, we needed to redefine our relationship.
And any mistakes in migration would create orphan records. Like me, currently, in the system.
Over the next three to four days, it did seem like I was settling down well and establishing a rapport with the lead, the other two testers as well as the developers. And then the boss lady called me to her cubicle.
“Today we got the response from Chennai about you.”
Meanwhile another scene was being enacted right next to us. A girl from our batch had come to send off Mr. Zest. She had successfully warded off the attempt to separate her from him during the Pune transfers. But not this time. Her eyes brimming with tears, she flung her arms around him as he got ready to board the train. The three of us stood in a silent huddle. The sixth person on the platform stood apart and watched.
I wondered how it would have been to have received such a farewell from that ‘her’. My Malayali friend seemed to have read what was going on in my head. “Dude!” he said. The other’s eyes sparkled mischievously. It was these two who had stalled any such attempts. “Leave all this behind in Chennai,” they had said, firmly.
“Guys, we will miss the train,” called out No. 4. Mr. Zest and I spoke fondly about our days in Chennai with No. 4 interrupting now and then to ask questions about the logistics of reporting at the Bangalore office.
While Mr. Zest and I were returning to our hometown, No. 4 would have to go through the whole rigmarole of finding a place to stay. As I was undergoing the first real transfer of my career, dad would be going through his last one, returning from Nagpur to Bangalore. There would be some settling down required – a bit like dad’s transfers of old.
The company had even perfectly timed our travel to match a holiday – it was May Day. So much for labor rights. We were to report to our new business unit head the next morning.
The Bangalore campus was vast and sprawling – with twenty-five software development blocks as against Chennai’s paltry two. Right next to the gate was an empty plot with a large hoarding that read, “Trespassers will be recruited.” Wait what? No. I had read wrong. It was “Trespassers will be prosecuted”
The new business unit head seemed chattier than our old one. After sharing with us ten minutes’ worth of corporate wisdom, he handed us over to a lady sitting in a project manager’s cubicle. The lady smiled at us warmly and got us to introduce ourselves. Then suddenly a frown formed above her spectacles. “There has been some mistake. We were expecting only two people from Chennai for the Migration project. The other two are already here from Bhubaneswar. Let me see,” she said.
It turned out I was the ‘mistake’. “You don’t worry. We will sort it out,” she told me. “You both come with me,” she said to the other two and took them away.
But I was worried. Was this going to turn out to be yet another Ersatz Elevator? Would they send me back to Chennai? I mean that would not be a bad thing. But…
After what seemed like hours and hours, she returned. “I have written to Chennai about you. Meanwhile since you are here, I do not want you to be idle.”
I remembered the sign outside the campus. Perhaps I had not misread it after all.
She called over someone from her team. “You said you wanted an additional member for your testing team, didn’t you? Here is someone you can use. At least for now.”
He gave me an overview of the project. It was an application being modernized for a German insurance company. Then, he in turn passed me on to a young lady in his team. I wondered who she would pass me on to next.
Unfortunately for her, fortunately for me, she had no one else to pass me on further down the line. She just explained my work to me and got me started.
Meanwhile Mr. Zest and No. 4 were settling down in their migration project, which was an offshoot of the main project, meant to migrate data from legacy systems.
One might wonder what the big deal is in moving data. The move itself is easy. The important thing is to ensure that the data remains the same at its core while acquiring an ability to interact with the elements of the new environment. Mr. Zest, for instance, was still the same but he would need to charm the two Bhubaneswar girls afresh the way he had charmed the two Internet stream girls. No. 4 and I were still the same, but now project mates rather than roommates. So, we needed to redefine our relationship.
And any mistakes in migration would create orphan records. Like me, currently, in the system.
Over the next three to four days, it did seem like I was settling down well and establishing a rapport with the lead, the other two testers as well as the developers. And then the boss lady called me to her cubicle.
“Today we got the response from Chennai about you.”
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