What My Dog’s Back Turn Taught Me About Feedback

My fur baby, Piku, has this very theatrical way of expressing disappointment. Turning his back on me. Literally.

If I refuse him a second treat or delay the evening walk, he doesn’t argue; he turns his back on me. Tail glued to the floor, ears drooping, eyes full of judgment.

But here’s the thing! Two minutes later, he’s back. Nudging me, wagging his tail, trying again.

Actually, if I only focused on what he didn’t get right (like sitting a little crooked when asked, or barking a little too loudly at the doorbell), I’d completely miss the fact that he’s showing up, trying, every single time.

That dramatic back-turn isn’t defiance. It’s his way of saying: “Don’t just tell me no…tell me what I did right too.”

Isn’t that so much like us at work, too?

Recently, my team and I have been neck-deep in creating 70+ videos, 100+ graphics, and lots of content… each one demanding creativity, precision, and long hours.

And yes, mistakes happen. A design goes off-track, a typo sneaks in, or a tiny detail gets missed.

I totally know how it feels to have all your hard work and entire project dismissed because of one slip.

And that’s why, when I review their work, I make it a point to acknowledge the effort because I know how much effort and energy it took.

So, instead of shutting down the conversation, I say,

“This is beautiful, just fix this little part.”

Or, “I love how much thought you’ve put into this, just tweak this one detail.”

Because, whether at work or at home, none of us stop trying because we got it wrong. We stop when we feel unseen.

And Piku, through his dramatic exits and equally dramatic returns, reminds me of that every single day. Smiling in the funniest way!

Running on Empty: Why Skipping Breakfast Has Become a Workplace Norm

It’s a Sunday. Mom asked if I wanted something for breakfast. And I paused because it has become completely normal to reach the office without breakfast. Sometimes, not even a cup of coffee or tea.

Nearly 1 in 4 urban Indian professionals skip breakfast entirely.

And 72% of those who do eat something in the morning end up with nutrient-deficient meals, often lacking fibre, iron, and B vitamins.

We wake up before sunrise, race through morning routines, travel over an hour, and log in before 9 AM.

Some days, it’s only after a colleague asks a question requiring basic patience… that you realize you haven’t eaten.

Even in a city like Indore, we have over 2 hours of commute daily (each way closer to the urban average of 55–59 minutes in cities like Delhi, Bengaluru, and Mumbai)

Often, I have work calls from the bus on my way back, because productivity continues even if I am not at the desk. And I often hear others on the phone at work as well.

Also, if something’s needed first thing in the morning, it usually means one of two things: either stay up late to get it done, or set an early alarm and beat the sun to it – because working on a laptop or a phone in the bus would make you dizzy.

When dinner is by 8 PM and lunch doesn’t happen until 1 pm, you’re running on a 17-hour fast, whether you meant to or not.

And while intermittent fasting is trending… most of us are just unintentionally underfed.

Sometimes, (most of the times) the office bus becomes a mobile breakfast café. People eating bananas. Apples. Some purchase poha from the vendor at their bus stop (healthy?).

And of course, everyone knows who’s eating what because breakfast smells louder than perfumes at 7:50 AM in the bus. It’s funny.

Not eating is not always a choice, but when long commutes become standard, so does the struggle of time management and work life balance.

Sure, you can always grab something once you reach the office, but how often does that really happen when you’re already diving into your day the minute you walk in, answering a call with one hand and opening your laptop with the other?

Recent studies show that urban workers are nearly twice as likely to report health concerns compared to their rural counterparts.

Maybe we should normalize having tea before the team meets – and avoiding a social media post before breakfast.
And asking “Did you eat yet?” as often as we ask “Did you send this email to me yet?”

If you’re working this weekend or preparing to be “on” again Monday, be kind to yourself.
Treat the commute like the shift it is.
And give your body something to work with, not just work on.

In a culture that celebrates being always-on, let’s start honoring the smallest win: Showing up well-fed.

PS: Workplace Maggie always comes to the rescue. What about you?

Here’s to Originality.

“This sounds too good. Must be AI.”
Ah yes. The highest ‘compliment’ you can give a writer in 2025.

Spends 3 hours obsessing over a synonym.
Rewrites one line 17 times.
Gets hit by a random poetic metaphor while doing home chores.
Bleeds voice into the keyboard.
Crafts it. Rewrites it.
Deletes half of it.
Writes again.

And then someone comments:
“ChatGPT?”

That’s what original writers get now.
Not “great post.” Not “loved this.”
Original thought? Suspect.
Emotional nuance? Suspicious.
A post that flows well and makes sense? Definitely AI.

Meanwhile, ghostwriters?
They used to be mysterious.

Now they’re just GenAI with a birth certificate.

We used to chase polish.
Now we chase proof.

Want proof it’s not AI?
Look for the one extra word I couldn’t delete.
The sentence I didn’t need, but emotionally needed.
And the slight passive-aggressive undertone?
That’s all me.

Honestly, the real test should be: Is there a typo?
A rambling sentence that loops back unnecessarily?
A paragraph that sounds like it was written at 2 AM, lying on the bed watching a series.

That’s the mark of a real person.

So here’s to the humans.
Still writing. Still thinking. Still obsessing over how to say it “just right.”

But you know what?
There’s no algorithm for nostalgia.
No prompt for what it smells like after rain.
No thesaurus for your kind words, appreciation and motivation.
No autocomplete for silence, or warmth, or roots.

So now, I stepped away.
Back to the soil, the slowness, the sound of nothing refreshing.

My writing may not be perfect, but it’s mine.

P.S. If this sounded human, messy, and slightly passive-aggressive…That’s how you know it’s me.