I can never get lucky on a Wednesday night. First I write a selection of 182 words on a book called Me Inc , it falls short by 120 words. And just when I think I have wound up for the day, comes the spanner. The strip ad at the end of the three-page story I am handling has to be removed and an element added to fill up the space. I call the weary reporter in Bangalore, who is already deep asleep into the night, and ask him for more information. How he must hate me at this point of time as much as I hate the ad-men in my department. The selection I have taken care of, thanks to some of the tricks in the trade I have picked up. But the poor design guy is slogging his ass off. That gives me the time to air my frustrations. “Wake up the reporter,” one editor says. “I have,” I reply and wait for design to roll off. That will involve some more time as it means dealing with a few who can’t ascertain the difference between begetable and vegetable. Minute corrections and more time to waste. Me