Page 148 of One Indian Girl

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‘I am in Goldman Sachs. VP in the Distressed Debt Group.’

‘Oh,’ he said and became quiet.

‘So yeah,’ I said, wondering what to say next. I don’t know why I take responsibility for awkward silences.

‘What kind of doctor are you?’ I said.

‘I am a GP, general practitioner, in the Boston City Hospital. Doing my residency.’

‘I could never be a doctor. All that blood. I feel faint in hospitals,’ I said and smiled.

‘It’s a part of life,’ he said, his tone sombre. ‘People are dying. Someone needs to save them.’

‘Ah. Yes. Of course,’ I said.Okay, isn’t Dr Bakshi a little too serious?

‘How’s Goldman Sachs?’ he said.

‘Good. Hectic. But I like it.’

‘They pay people very well, I hear.’

‘It’s based on performance, but yes. It’s good money.’

‘If you don’t mind, how much do you make?’ he said.

Isn’t this too much too soon? What’s the protocol? He can ask me all these things in the first call? Can I ask him too?

‘Are we sharing compensation already?’ I smiled, to lighten his operation-theatre mood.

‘Sure. Why keep it hidden? I make 100,000 a year. Plus benefits,’ he said.

What am I supposed to do? Clap?

‘Okay,’ I said.

‘And you?’ he said.

I don’t know why I didn’t feel like telling him. Perhaps I was getting tuned into male pride. I could sense which guy could take it and who could not.

‘We can discuss all this later. So what do you want to specialize in? Or do you want to specialize at all?’

‘I want to be an ophthalmologist. Eye doctor.’

‘I know. Good,’ I said.

I had a sinking feeling this wasn’t going to work. How do you end calls like this?

‘So how much is your salary again?’ he said.

Okay, he asked for it. Thrice.

‘If you must know, I made half a million dollars last year.’

I heard his chair creak in response.

‘Five hundred thousand dollars?’ he said.

‘Yeah. That’s what half a million is,’ I said. I kicked myself for that patronizing comment. It wasn’t funny. I had a feeling nothing was funny to Dr Stuck-up Bakshi anyway.