Nagaraj paused for a while to contemplate. His thoughts were running at random in frenzied motion, out of control and out of focus. Deep inside, Nagaraj did know that he could act obsessive at times. We all can, right? But in his case, even his pet dog could testify that he probably had a case of OCD so bad that the good folks at NIMHANS would, at the mere mention of the first two syllables of his name, tremble like…like how his fingers were trembling right now. Timidly, Nagaraj lifted his head to observe his companions. One was short and pudgy, busy raking the noodles on his plate with a plastic fork. The other was passionately and animatedly describing a dish he’d had some unspecified amount of time back, the name of which he couldn’t quite remember. Where did he have it? Nope, he couldn’t exactly recall that either, all apologies. But that hardly deterred him from singing paeans about it. Just when Nagaraj was about to slip into a parallel thought process created to analyze why he was named bloody Nagaraj, their eyes met. It was then that he realized that the long drawn-out speech was actually being addressed to him. After a quick nod, he fell back into his reverie.
Deep inside, Nagaraj did know that he could act obsessive at times.
But this was surely different, he reasoned. If he took a wrong decision now, it’d ruin his morning. The entire morning! He shuddered. His palms were getting sweaty already. Nagaraj knew he had to arrive at a decision. Fast.
His eyes started darting around frantically, anxious for help. Trying to recollect what he’d done in the past when confronted with this situation was becoming nigh impossible now. Everyone else is doing it effortlessly and I can too, he told himself. The seconds were ticking away. A sigh later, he had those packets in his hands. Almost on cue, his left ventricle began pumping harder. 2 packets would be too much. And 1.5 too less. How was one supposed to decide how much to consider? What should the metrics be? Would he be remunerated if the result was unsatisfactory? He let out a curse. The stares thrown at him escaped completely unnoticed.
This was it. He grabbed one of the packets, tore it precisely along the dotted lines and emptied the contents into the ceramic cup. He let a moment go by, admiring what he just did.
He took a sip.
So far, so good.
The next one needed more precision, he had to admit. After a quick rummage through his bag, Nagaraj found his pair of shiny small scissors. He was really glad that he always carried it with him. He looked around smugly…these dolts around him surely wouldn’t have thought of this. He was obviously smarter. A smile escaped from his mouth.
Taking the scissors, he proceeded to cut the packet to form a tiny aperture at the right hand corner.
Deep inside, Nagaraj did know that he could act obsessive at times.
He decided not to blink for the next 30 seconds. It was a small price to pay for what he’d eventually get after that. Slowly, he pulled the cup closer to him. The smell was inviting. He took a long breath and tilted the packet smoothly. His eyes sparkled as the white and fine grains slowly fell into the cup.
Suddenly, for no apparent reason, he thought of Pareto’s 80/20 rule.
The grains continued to flow smoothly into the cup.
80%, he decided.
But.
Pareto’s rule had nothing to do with this, right?
Right?
Right?
He pulled it out briskly and heaved a sigh of relief. He examined the packet closely.
About 15% of the grains remained inside. Never mind Nagaraj, he told himself, you put in your best efforts.
Another sip.
“NOOOOOO! THIS COFFEE’S TOO GODDAM SWEET!”
His morning was ruined.
