I was exhausted after a day’s work in my mobile office.That is my new New Nissan Terranaut parked in my garage,outfitted with the latest communications gear.I don’t leave the garage anymore because at $16.00 a gallon gas costs too much for me to go anywhere.From my office, I take orders for McDonald’s,Pizza Hut,Walmart and other stores and forward them onto the stores.My partner in Mumbai in this job is Audrey Hepburn who says she can speak English but I have a hard time understanding her.She has a nice laugh,though.And underneath her sari,I can see some good female attributes.She keeps me posted on what is happening throughout Mumbai and how many degrees she is piling up on her salary of $200 a year and how she is looking forward to being married to the best neurosurgeon in Mumbai who is attracting patients from as far as California.She tells me that Americans are always whining about something or other when Indians can get by on a lot less.

I tell her that I am burnt out and living as I do in a one room shack with four other migrant workers, do not have any means to do what she can do in Mumbai.I tell her that tonight I am going to splurge a little because I remembered what it was like being married and having a family.Another outsourcing company has agreed to send me a bride for the night.That is going to cost me $18.52.I know I can’t afford it but what else can I do?

My fellow migrant workers had agreed to spend the night under a bridge so I could celebrate my special day with the girl from Outer Mongolia.I had heard those girls are very passionate having been deprived of male companionship for a long time at a stretch and having to make do with Yak sex.I hope I can do at least as well as her Yak.

I heard the knock on the door in the code we had arranged.Two knocks, a long pause, followed by another very slight one.When I opened the door I could not believe my eyes.It was a Uma Thurman lookalike!.She said,”Haven’t you seen a girl before?”.But,I stammered,
“you look like Uma Thurman!”.”Well”,she said,you may not know this but Uma Thurman’s dad is a great Tibetan scholar and let us leave it at that”. I told her that explanation was adequate and I am looking forward to spending time with my outsourced wife of the night.

Before, we started the proceedings of the evening, Uma told me that she wanted to make some ground rules clear.She was prohibited from cooking or cleaning.For that I needed to call in their cooking and cleaning division and that would be an extra charge. She is allowed to give a massage for 15 minutes at an extra charge,of course. If I wanted to buy her a pizza, that will be fine but the Pizza had to be ordered in from an approved source.If I wanted her to feign jealousy as I eyed the Pizza delivery girl,that would be an extra charge.

The ground rules for sex were even more stringent.She said she will insert fresh condoms she has brought with her.If I wanted Viagra or Cialis she can provide that, at an extra charge,of course.And at the end of each fifteen minute session, she can give out a moan faking orgasm any way I wanted.I told Uma that this was a better deal than what I had with my first wife when things were not outsourced like today.She said she understood as she too had gone through a divorce before the outsourcing boom.

Our conversation after the brief sex was very enlightening.Uma turned out to be a Ph.D. in Neuroscience from Duke University.As befitting a girl from the south by way of Mongolia, she spoke with a southern Mongolian accent.I asked her why with her qualifications she was outsourcing her “services”.She was furious at my naivete.She said” have you seen what it is like out there? It is a jungle. Ten years ago, we Mongolians were the kings and queens of the outsourcing jungle.Now it is being taken over by the cheap labor from Chechnya,Baluchistan and Myanmar.People simply don’t have any standards any more.I can foresee the day when they will clone anyone you want and price their services at a fraction of what we need.Life just isn’t fair.”

I told her I shared her view about the deteriorating situation and could not offer any more than words.

Soon I got tired and as I woke up,Uma was gone with an empty box of pizza as my reminder of the night.On the pillow adjacent to mine, I saw a note that said “Thanks for the pizza.If I see you again,hold back some more and spend more time on the foreplay.Good luck.”

I thanked my stars that Tom Friedman thought up the thing about a flat earth.How else could a guy making $200 a year get to spend the night with a Uma Thurman lookalike from, of all places, Outer Mongolia?

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