Hita (2 page)

As I sit on a black leather and chrome modern chair in the austere white lobby, my nerves are amped up to the point where it feels like I’ve had five cups of coffee, not the one cup I drank. I watch as people come and go through the large automatic sliding glass doors.

Finally I hear my name, “Hita Chamarthi.” Taking a deep breath, I give what I hope is a warm smile and extend my hand to the Asian guy in his late thirties. He bends his head slightly in response telling me his name is Chéng-gong Chan. Repeating his name multiple times in my head, I follow him past a simple modern courtyard into a white minimalist conference room. He sits down across from me. With a perfunctory smile he looks at my résumé. Scanning it up and down he says, “I see you are about to graduate with a Masters in Computational & Mathematical Engineering.”

I’m not sure if this statement requires a response as he continues to read my résumé stating out loud, “You’ve spent the last few summers working at Google, developing in Pig for a Hadoop system.” I’m still unsure if this statement requires any response as he has yet to give me eye contact.

Finally looking up he says, “We’re looking for people to work on our big data solutions.”

I’m still wondering if there is a question or if I should be verbally agreeing with his obvious statement. My mind wonders, I wonder what kind of technical questions he’s going to ask. I’ve heard lots of stories about Silicon Valley job interviews. The current rage is to ask technically based mind bending riddles. I’m great at games, but it usually takes me a couple of rounds to get keyed in to what they’re looking for.

Lucky for me, Chéng-gong is going analytical. Being Chinese, I know he’s memorized every definition and programing term he uses and will test me against his knowledge. My parents pushed me to memorize, a skill that my American friends consider a waste of time, but it comes in handy when I’m dealing with other Asians.

After almost forty-five minutes of what feels like a technical game of Jeopardy, his iPhone beeps, he politely tells me his turn is over, slightly bowing, gets up, and leaves. Sitting in the room alone, I wonder if I should pull my Samsung phone out and start reading. Since this is Apple I’m afraid that using it might be construed as sacrilegious.

By my seventh interview of the day I have no idea what products this group is working on, or anything else about engineering since they’re so paranoid. The hiring manager wouldn’t even tell me how many people worked for him. At lunch time someone brought me a salad since I don’t think they let outsiders in their cafeteria. It must be because Steve Jobs stole most of his ideas from other companies, and he didn’t want grad students to do that to him.

I feel wrung out and exhausted as I drive back to campus in the car that I borrowed from Sam, my college roommate’s boyfriend. I’ve already decided that I’m not interested in working at Apple. They have twice the amount of employees as Google, where I worked the last four summers. I think I want to work at someplace smaller.

The next week I interview at a well-funded start-up that’s located in San Francisco. I have a number of friends from school who now live there. Most of them commute down to Silicon Valley. Even though some of the Silicon Valley companies are building offices in San Francisco, typically the choice is to have an apartment in San Francisco and live for the weekend, since you spend so many hours commuting, or find a place near work in Silicon Valley and head up to the city to party on the weekend. If I get a job in San Francisco then I get the best of both worlds, a short commute and hip city living.

From the train I walk to their offices located in a trendy refurbished warehouse. As I wait in their urban cool lobby, a hipster looking guy with a goatee comes out to get me. The interview proceeds similar to the one at Apple. My potential peers ask me to define some technology terms, they give me a problem to solve on the white board, and then ask me some mind bending arithmetic riddles.

All the guys I meet tell me they’re developers, but they dress rather hip and brag about the perks, though besides free food, I wonder how they have time to use any of them. One of the guys comes in carrying his messenger bag. Back at Leland all the engineers used backpacks; it was the business guys who used messenger bags. I’m wondering how solid these guys are, or if they’re just a bunch of brogrammers? Those college frat guys and athlete code monkeys who only know how to develop apps and front end applications? I’m an engineer, I want to use math to solve the hard problems.

When I get in front of one of the senior managers, I ask him how much funding they have. I quickly calculate that with forty employees and a fancy facility they will run out of money by the end of the year. Then the manager tells me they are behind on their deliverables, and now need to hire people who have the skills to handle big data. Now I’m wondering if I’m the only one in this building who sees that they’re in trouble.

At school, the Venture Capitalists (VC)—the guys who finance new companies—have been swirling around the engineering building. It’s always a great way to grab some free food. But I’m not yet interested in starting my own company. I’d like to work for someone else for a few years.

My professors have brought in some of their former students to judge and discuss our projects. The alumni use these opportunities to pitch their company to prospective employees. A few of the new companies actually look interesting. One of the speakers, Flint, is a guy I worked with my first summer at Google. He remembers me, and asks for my résumé. His company is three years old with over a hundred employees, a product with customers, and revenue.

When I go for the interview, their offices are in a new building that’s been decorated simply with brightly painted walls and hallways covered in white board. My potential co-workers seem to be smart, relatively normal, and technically competent. The company has a really young vibe since everyone seems to be under thirty, and they’re still pre-IPO, so there will be a financial upside that’s more than my salary. This company feels like a winner.

Getting back to graduate housing, Juliette’s in the living room hanging with her boyfriend, Stephan. I liked her college boyfriend, Chris, a lot better. Stephan has this arrogant attitude, like he’s lived so much more than we have, even though he’s only a year older.

Juliette leaves Stephan in the living room and follows me into the kitchen. “Hey, how’d the interview go?”

After grabbing a drink out of the refrigerator, I answer, “One more interview, one more day of mind numbing questions. I don’t know how they can figure out if I’ll be a good engineer based on what they ask me.”

As my food search heads to the freezer, I finally choose to defrost frozen pot stickers for my snack. Juliette watches me measure them out, and then gives me a smirk. I laugh and empty the rest of the bag onto the plate.

Juliette asks, “Did they ask you any good riddles?”

We’re both math girls and really get off on trying to figure out mathematical puzzles. As I wait for the microwave to beep, I throw out the questions I was asked. Juliette and I discuss my answers.

As we eat the pot stickers, I question, “I wonder what answers they were really looking for.”

She shrugs and shakes her head as she munches away. “Have you thought of which company you want to work at?”

“This last one’s the best. They’re solving the hard problems; it seems like they have their act together when it comes to managing their money, and I didn’t run into any brogrammers or preeners.”

The job offer from Flint’s company comes in along with a couple others I’m not interested in. Juliette and I decide to celebrate by heading to University Avenue in Palo Alto. We manage to drag Meredith and Jennifer, two more college princesses, along with us. Meredith’s long time college boyfriend Sam, also joins us. We nicknamed Sam “Mr. Big Love” after the polygamy show, since so often he winds up being the only guy with all of us princesses. Tonight Juliette has dragged Stephan along. Of course he’s going to order something unique and pretentious that no one has ever heard of. I wonder if Juliette can’t see his annoying characteristics because he’s so handsome.

We end up at Nola, a fun, loud, New Orleans inspired restaurant. We order margaritas and a bunch of appetizers, laughing and joking and generally enjoying ourselves. I drink too much as everyone toasts to my future success.

As I drink my margarita I figure I better enjoy tonights fun since I’m headed into the storm of finals week. I’m happy it’s my last finals week ever. After graduation I’m going to be taking a couple of weeks off to travel around California with my parents, move into my new apartment, and then start my new job.

Getting back to my classes, one of my professors gives us a twenty-four hour test. It’s a take home test that needs to be turned in within twenty-four hours of receiving it, which makes it sound easy. The thing is, the questions are so difficult it takes twenty-four hours to answer them all. I hate pulling all-nighters. By about three in the morning I’m starting to hallucinate, I’m getting to the point where I don’t care what the answers are.

When finals are over I sleep for twenty-four hours solid; waking up in time for my parents to show up for graduation. Making dinner for my parents the night they arrive, they bemoan the fact that I didn’t get a job offer at Google. Juliette shoots me a look, knowing that they were one of the companies I turned down.

After my parents head back to their hotel, Juliette pulls out the margaritas. Juliette has a summer job, in the fall she plans on rooming with the princess Olivia, who will be back from doing good deeds at a refugee camp in Jordan, ready to start medical school.

As the drinks are ready to be poured, Meredith and Jennifer show up. They both scarf down all the leftovers as I start complaining.

“I thought this vacation was going to be casual and fun. My mom is using it as an opportunity for us to travel up and down the coast to meet all these Indian guys. I feel like I’m headed to the parade of losers.”

“Why don’t you look at it positively and date some of the guys your mom wants to fix you up with?” Meredith says.

Feeling exasperated I explain to her, “Indians don’t have a dating culture. In India the only time people go on dates is before they get married. It’s not like you can go out with some guy and if you don’t like him you move on to the next one. If I start casually dating real Indian guys, I’ll quickly get a bad reputation. I’m too loyal of a daughter to dishonor my parents like that.”

“Mahesh dated Claudia. Now he’s dating Suzanne,” Jennifer responds.

“I bet he’s not introducing those women to his family and friends of his family. He’s keeping those relationships on the down low. Real Indian guys might casually date Americans, and some of them even marry Americans. But dating is frowned upon. That’s the problem I have with my mom’s fix ups. The guy might be nice, but I’m not ready to make this big of a decision after one family dinner. If I say yes to a date, the families will start planning the wedding.”

Juliette gives me a horrified look. “I’m glad I’m not Indian. Chris and I didn’t work out.”

“Though, he was hot,” I tell her as I clink her glass to mine.

She nods as she answers, “My favorite part of dating him was his water polo matches.”

Jennifer starts laughing as she raises her glass. “The best part of you dating him was joining you at those water polo matches.”

“Water polo players are hot,” Meredith adds.

“Yeah, and speedos are the best uniform ever.”

The day after I graduate, Savi skypes me. She screams into the computer “CONGRATULATIONS!”

“Wow, you almost blew my ear off with that one.”

“Hey, how’s it feel to be done with grad school?”

“It hasn’t yet hit. How’s living at home?”

“Ali and I are heading into Chicago this weekend to party with Lauren, you know, she has an apartment in the city.”

“Your mom isn’t trying to meddle?” I ask, surprised that her parents are being so cool.

“Not yet, maybe I’ve been worried about nothing. How about you? Are you looking forward to your trip down the coast with your parents?”

I sigh before answering, “You’re luckier than me. I think my mom has already scheduled some teas.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks slightly horrified.

“What choice do I have? I’ll tell her I’m not going out with those guys, but it’s easier to play along. I figure they’ll go home in a couple of weeks and I can go back to my normal life.”

“Good plan, I agree. I have no interest in the guy’s my mom chooses. They’re always so dorky. I’d only consider dating another Indian if he was normal, you know, cool, American. Why is it that Indian guys are either dorky or players? Aren’t there any normal ones out there?”

“Yeah, I know. Most of the Indian guys here are H-1B.”

“Yeah, like that would ever happen.”

“I’ve noticed you have a thing for the White boys,” I tell her.

“Yeah, but it would make life easier if I could meet a nice American born Indian, another Hindu. They would understand my family dynamics.”

I nod my head in agreement.

***

A few hours later, my parents show up. They help me move my stuff to Juliette’s parents’ garage. Then we head to a friend of my mom’s cousins in Cupertino for tea. I bet this friend is from our caste and has a single son in his twenties.

As we drive over I tell my mom one more time, “I’m finding my own man.”

She smiles and says in her sweet, sing-song way, “Hita, you play those computer games. Nothing’s going to come of that.”

At the house we go to, both parents answer the door. The mom is wearing a deep green colored silk sari and lots of gold jewelry. After entering their home, they make a point of pausing in front of their expensive gold shrine to Ganesh that takes up most of the dining room. Then we’re ushered into their living room. The mother serves us chaat tea, fancy nuts, and biscuits on her best china. While we’re seated on their modern leather furniture, I note that it’s a nice house, all decorated with an Indian flare that includes oriental rugs, bright colors, and elaborately carved accessories.

Everyone is polite and friendly as the parents talk and the son checks me out. At five ten, I’m tall. Mom did a poor job with research; the son comes up to my shoulder. I plaster a polite smile on my face knowing I’ll never date him. His lack of height doesn’t stop my mom. She pushes the conversation, lightly bragging about my graduation and new job. His mom brags about his education and his job.

Looking at the mother, I realize that if I get involved with an Indian guy and his parents live locally, they’ll be in my business more than my mom has ever been. Even worse, if his parents live in India they will come for a visit and stay for five months. I grew up watching my paternal grandmother run my mother ragged when she came for her visits.

My mind reels. I’ve been so busy with school, I’ve never really considered what it would be like to date in the real world, now I’m wondering what my next chapter will bring. My mother’s relentless pursuit of a husband for me overhangs our trip. We stop for tea at a number of Indian homes on our way up and down the coast. It’s almost a relief when I see my parents off upon our return to Silicon Valley.

Skyping with Savi when I get back, she lets me bitch about my mom. Savi and I understand each other well since she also has spent her lifetime bridging the American and Indian worlds.