Anaya: Plan B

Anaya and I hadn't met in 5 years. The check-in agent had an annoying smile on her face. Annoying, because my flight was delayed for 3 hours. The computer had "forgotten" to assign pilots to this particular flight and they were being flown in from Phoenix. I'm sure you know someone, the check-in agent said. This was in response to my comment that courtesy of Alaska Airlines, my Friday evening was ruined.

I had promised Anaya that I would look her up when I came up to Seattle next. She had just moved to work for Google in Seattle. We had taken a class together at USC several years ago and had thoroughly enjoyed each other's company, though the same could not be said of the class.

I hit call and 206-XXX-XXXX flashed on my phone's display. It was Friday, and I put a 90% probability on hitting up her voicemail. Who takes call on Friday evenings? Most people, myself included, have plans that have been carefully put together weeks in advance.

"Hi, This is Ann," a voice said. There was music in the background. I think it was Amr Diab. Tamally Maak. " Anaya, I mean Ann!! This is Sharjeel. How have you been?" Now I had to put my sales skill to work and get Anaya to invite me to whatever she was doing that evening.

After exchanging a couple of pleasantries, she asked if she could call me back. She was out with friends. Great! I thought. I probably wouldn't hear from her, and if I did, it wouldn't be tonight.

"No worries. Later!" It was over. A lonely evening in an airport terminal. How did I get here, I wondered.

I went through security. Got a small decaf soy latte and opened up my computer. I had lots of news to catch up on. Several minutes into a story about how a new anti-monopoly law in China that goes into effect in August could impede a Microsoft-Yahoo merger, my phone rang.

It was Anaya. I had to pick up.

She was on a date. A date that didn't pan out for her. Apparently this guy kept talking about how Stanford lost to Texas in a 20 point upset. Strange, I thought. I had caught a little bit of the game earlier with a friend at Spitfire. And both teams were pretty close.

"Where are you now?" she asked. I told her my story and how I had a couple of hours at hand. "You're at the airport huh? We really ought to meet up. (Long pause) I'll come pick you up and we can get a drink or something."

"That sounds FANTASTIC!" I had the widest smile on my face of anybody sitting in the terminal, waiting to get to LA. As I started walking to leave Terminal N, the flight was further delayed until 1 am. I wasn't mad. There was something to look forward to. Anaya.

Anaya and I go way back. From being lab partners in EE102, we had become really good friends. For about two semesters, we did everything together. Both of us had significant others too. And eventually this made things complicated. One day, when I finally gathered the courage to tell her I was attracted to her, she got mad.

"I like you Sharjeel. Because you don't have motive. You never want anything from me. I like being around you. You're safe, and I don't want anything to change."

Safe? That hurt. I was safe. And I was embarrassed. It was one of those things that would never be the same. I avoided her and hadn't spoken to her until a few months ago.

When in San Francisco for work, I went out to dinner with a couple of friends. My friend JP, another Google employee, decided to bring a friend along - Anaya. It was a bitter sweet moment. Both of us had grown up and handled it like adults. Exchanged numbers and email addresses and decided to keep in touch.

Then she moved to Seattle and asked me if I could introduce her to some people. Which I did. And pretty much, we started talking again.

Moments later she picked me up. Small talk happened.

"So what are we doing tonight ANN? Of all people I didn't expect you to give up your name so that others could pronounce it easily."

"Sure, Seth Vogel!" (She remembered. McLovin? Get the drift)

"There's this place called the Triple Door. They have good music. You want to go. My treat. I kinda owe you."

"Sure. I like all kinds of music. I don't discriminate." I got one of those you-don't-need-to-play-cool / watch-your-back kind of smiles that women give you, especially when they think they've got you all figured out.

A couple of minutes to 10 we were able to get in. It was a dinner theater type of place. And there were people waiting to get in. Anaya told me that she had wanted to bring her date to this show, but he was so "boring and full of himself."

I smiled. Here we go again. I was Plan B.

(To be continued...)

Skoll World Forum on You Tube

Fear not, ye poor folk of large spirit but feeble purses. Catch the summit highlights on http://www.youtube.com/skollfoundation

Ok. Someone needs to get these people on to live video and podcasting.

My friend Rach is attending this summit - she's a part of this socially conscious hedge fund that provides capital for "innovative" ideas for "poverty reduction" and "sustainable economic development" in the "global south." She tells me that they plan to put stuff on you tube in a couple of days.

Actually, I know someone from work who may be at the summit, though he didn't mention why he was going to Oxford. Anywho!

A Gambler's Playbook for Social Change

Gambling is a vice. Or so I am told. And so I've always kept a safe distance from the sport. This weekend I found myself in Las Vegas for a friends birthday. A friend's boyfriend's birthday who is now a friend.

A weekend in Las Vegas after a week of that was full of "No's." Some polite, some not, and some couched in political correctness.

Getting on the plane to Las Vegas, there was a certain kind of heaviness in my heart. Not one where I was disappointed in myself. But one, wherein I was disappointed in the world at large. A world of social entrepreneurs and capitalists that lecture and sing hallelujah to the world about passion, a drive for out of the box thinking and a tremendous appetite for risk. But at some level, their head doesn't follow their heart.

Sitting at the roulette table. Where the odds on average for a house to take away one's money are 37 to 1, a rare moment of clarity presented itself. The world of social enterprise can be characterized as a roulette table. One where the currency is passion. And the odds, well, they are one in a million. Success here is directly tied to a calculated approach that rewards endurance and a resolve to not bankrupt oneself of passion. A belief that no matter what the odds or losses, a win is achievable.

The $200 in my pocket spoke to me. Make a big bet. A roulette table, your lack of gambling experience, and the odds against you; if you lose it's time to get on with other things and let someone else take care of "changing the world." Maybe I wanted to lose, I wanted someone to tell me that sometimes, when you're down and out, the best thing to do is give up. I almost want to, but it's fundamentally offensive to the way I am constructed as a human being.

30 minutes of play. With no knowledge of roulette. That was the plan. I watched some of my friends play. I asked questions. And finally, I put my money on the table. First 5 spins. The house took $150. I had my answer, or so I thought. Cut my losses and walk away with what I had left.

But with $50 in hand, I had a chance. I took it.

A few minutes into the game I walked away with $570. I cashed in my chips. Take that you "experience" gamblers.

What experience did Yunus, Gandhi, MLK have. Did their passion for their cause trump experience? I have my answer.

525,600 minutes

How do you measure a year in the life?

Rent has always been my favorite musical. Not only because it poses the right existential questions that each of us must ask ourselves, but also because it offers the answers too.

Recently, Thea and I had this conversation. It was about what we were living for. She lives to help lunatics. Maybe that's why we get along so well. I told her I wasn't really living for anything, other than myself.  Chasing things that somehow made sense, but I wasn't prepared to embrace.

Like last Friday. I interviewed for this sales job, that I (quite frankly) have little interest in. But it makes sense from a career perspective. More responsibility, more money. Hey, what's there to not like? I told her about it. I am fairly certain I might receive an offer sometime this week.

She also knows of my keen interest in social ventures and citizenship type work and the difficulty I have had in breaking into that area. Why don't you go do what you want? Just quit your job and follow your passion.

Not that I haven't thought of it. The very idea is so liberating to say the least. 525,600 minutes of pure bliss, generated by the pursuit of my passion for helping people in any which way I can.

Like a friend, who left the company and went to work for the Obama campaign, maybe, I need to break away to find that satisfaction that I often find myself looking for.

525,600 minutes; each spent doing meaningful work. Now that lights my candle!!!

Saigon Poison

Food poisoning. That's what happened. As my skin broke into hives, red itchy patches all over my skin I felt I was covered in a blanket of fire ants. It was quite painful, no matter how many antihistamines I took, I was red enough to make a lobster shy.

Strange that some Pho Ga and coconut water could do this to me.

My doc gave me some prescription medicine and asked me to meet with an allergist next week. The meds are helping, but I was reminded how frail and vulnerable human beings can be.

And now, I must prepare to fly to Seattle.

Boston is Bizarre

As I wait for my afternoon flight to San Francisco, I find myself thinking about my recent visit to Boston. I went there to get a feel for the MBA schools and the city.

If I filter it all down, the information, conversation, ideas, pretty much everything that was said and heard and try to zero in on the feeling I walked away with. It was that Boston is a funny town.

Funny because on either side of a street are these two universities that enjoy iconic status in the world of academia. Their graduates evoke cynosure of all eyes when they speak of their alma mater. Yet either university didn't somehow resonate. It made perfect sense why someone would want to study here, but ... And that's a big "but" that's still lingering.

On one end of town, barring one or two individuals, I found myself amidst self assured and, though I hesitate to say it, a pretentious and judgmental group of people. Not a gaze or glance that I encountered seemed to indicate genuine warmth. It was like being in Tokyo during rush hour. Surrounded by people, everywhere, each accomplished in their own right, but uninterested, almost making an effort to be distant. Not fitting in, would be an understatement.

The other end, all I can say is wow. What great people. Yes, the infrastructure is a little behind, but both faculty and students didn't let anyone walk away without feeling welcome. I absolutely loved it, except for one thing.  The curriculum. I still need to find out more about this.

So as I think about this, I wonder why I feel the way I do. Was it the weather, was it me or the time I visited. Maybe I'll go again when I am in Boston in October. If you've visited or studied there and have some feedback for me, do share. (please)

Having visited over 10 schools I think there's one located in Palo Alto that I am absolutely and completely in LOVE with. It's west coast, its down to earth, its so me. Fingers crossed!

(This post will be deleted eow next week, just wanted to share with my peeps. I do understand how fb has the power to turn something innocuous into a career destroying event.)

Art Expo at the Javits Center

Saw lots of great artists today. Made me want to paint again.

Check out Yuroz

Twenties are closing in fast

It's one of those nights. The nights when you contemplate/introspect/brood/plan/et al. This year I'll be 26. The realization that the 20s are closing in fast and that in a couple of years I'd be at a 10 year high school reunion is somewhat terrifying.

When one hits the big 3-0, or thirty years of existence on this planet, a major milestone is achieved. At 30 some people know what the next 40-45 years are going to look like. A big picture idea. Some folks had made great strides in their personal or professional lives. Some have discovered their raison d' etre. Some have traveled the world. Some have created great art or music, or just created.

Here's to four more spectacular years before the big one.