Slice of Work #16 — Of Career Setbacks and Renewal

This was a long time ago. Ram a serious professional had a cushy job, a premier club membership and life was good. But he was not happy. He thought he “lived in a land of two shadows". His simple wife was a happy-go-lucky woman to whom a career undulates with time.

One day his wife asked him to quit. No point being unhappy with life. The money and the perks could wait. Ram quit and spent much of his time asking what he was good at and what he loved most. Took feedback of friends and colleagues. He became a lot calmer and now his children started to side up to him to speak. He took a lot of feedback from friends and colleagues and listed out what he did not enjoy doing.

He learnt a lot about himself and including his dark side. He could now look at himself in the mirror and feel fine. A could of months later he found a good job, not all that high paying and the brand was not well known either. He did not care. He liked the person who interviewed him – Yes, such things happen!

There was no looking back. He could laugh at silly jokes and not stress about work. He had found his edge and his happiness. And the firm loved him too. All owed to a simple woman who asked a simple question of his ask of life – his wife.

Slice of Work #15 — Culture Drives Policy, Not the Other Way

This was a fine mid-sized culturally vibrant dream company to work for. It had a large heart. It attracted good talent and much of it was owed to its CEO, a very fine man who was both genuine and charismatic.

The HR head met a candidate, Nirmala, who had a career break. She had a great background and experience. Just when the job offer was going to be made, Nirmala said that she wanted flexibility – work from home, work part-time and work at will, at least for a year plus to look after her child. The HR head heard himself agreeing to each of these although they were not part of the policy.

Convincing his colleagues and his boss was easy, for the culture was supportive. All this was almost 20 years ago when such things were really unheard of. Nirmala turned out to be one of the best a really a refreshing professional who brought in high energy to the place.

The HR Head moved on. He had long forgotten about what he had done. Nirmala did not. Nirmala recounted this positive experience at a National event where she spoke passionately about what this meant to her.

Her story was impactful—the ability to do things for others is within us and it is for us to bend the rules. People of influence can support people who are great talent. Flexibility starts with us being flexible in our mind.

Nirmala’s story reminded me that it is not a policy that drives culture, but culture that drives policy … and happiness at work. And someone who can take a lead on it.  

Slice of Life #12 — Learning on the Fly

It was one of those crazy days. I normally take a flight on Sundays to Mumbai at around 6.15 pm. For some reason I booked an earlier flight on Air India at 5 pm and forgot about it. Midway as I headed to the airport, I got a call from the airline manager telling me that I was being off loaded it way past the boarding time of 4.15. I had completely forgotten that it was an earlier flight.

I rushed to the counter where the reservation Manager of Air India told me that I had been off loaded. My throat went dry. This has never happened to me and I was feeling faint. I pleaded with the manager and he could see my anguish. It was also clear to me that it was over. The manager asked me if he could assist in getting me to another flight. I could have hugged him. It was really sweet of him.

He and I went to another carrier for a later flight. It was an expensive ticket and I gave my credit card to the attendant who insisted on cash. And those were the ‘Demon-ic’ days of the dry ATMs. After three dry ATMs, I finally managed to get cash. Ran back and gave the money to the man at the counter only to be told that the last ticket was taken. My pleas fell on deaf ears, for he was clear, first come first served. Made not even the slightest effort to help. Bless him!

The AI Manager asked me to wait and said he would try. After ten minutes, I gave up not sure if he could anything, purchased a ticket for the next day, hired a cab and headed back home. Five minutes into the drive I got a call from the Manager if I could come back. He had managed to get me a ticket for the regular 6.15 pm flight, the one I had tried earlier but was told it was running full. And he had got it at a normal price. He had not given up. He had been working silently all along for getting me a ticket.

I thanked Sumit Trivedi. That was his name. He helped someone he did not know. For over half an hour he had relentlessly worked his charm on a different carrier in securing me a ticket. I asked him what I could do for him. He said ‘Sir please fly Air India each time, every time ’. I hugged him warmly and walked away in awe of the man. He had mastered the art of Service beyond Self.

I wish I could be a Trivedi to someone. I must.

Slice of Work #12 — 'Speak up': When Most Needed...

It was one of those late night conference calls, with some top leaders of the company on it. A delicate matter to discuss. Some months ago an engineer left the shores of India for Canada on a project. He had contracted encephalitis – brain fever, potentially fatal. The doctors gave up and recommended ‘hospice’ – a euphemism for allowing to meet his Maker, outside of the hospital. Huge bills besides efforts had not helped.

The call was for all of sixty minutes. Someone started and said that the case was a hopeless one and that the lad should be put out of his misery. Another said that his wife in India insisted on his shifting to India. This would need an air ambulance and that meant a special aircraft which would, apart from huge cost, had to land every five hours, per international rules. The call went off in the direction that the exorbitant cost and the low survival chance played in the favor of a ‘hospice’ resolution. The call was almost at its end. The decision almost taken.

On the call was a shy and a junior manager who was overwhelmed with the high ranking leaders on it. How could he speak? And he had been quiet all along but his inner voice egged him on. With two minutes to spare he hesitatingly started – ‘This boy would be alive had he not left the shores of India. We have more of such medical cases in India and there is a good chance that the doctors can cure him. Besides, he served the firm the best way he could. We have a responsibility to him. Leaders, let us bring the soldier home’. He was sweating, but he had said his piece. There was a huge silence. After what seemed like an eternity the leader said – ‘Folks, I agree. We carry a vicarious responsibility and the lad has served us well. Let us send the soldier home.’

Fast forward. After all the stoppages of the air ambulance enroute, a devoted wife, and after six months of hospitalization, Alok went back to work to a thunderous applause,. The manager who spoke up that day sported a smile. He had learnt his lesson, as did many on the call.

Slice of Work #11 — 'Show up': A Priceless Lesson in Motivation

It was a cold winter morning of 26th Jan, very many years ago in Gomia, a small town in Bihar. He had woken up at 4.30 and was at the factory grounds, all excited to participate in the mini Marathon in a difficult terrain of undulating lands, finishing at the factory gates. He was the only Management Trainee ( MT) at the event. For over 20 years, there has been only one winner – Viktor Lakra, a seasoned runner, a well- built local chap. The MT was all scrawny and a kid by comparison to Lakra.

The race started with over 50 runners.The roads were rough,the climb tortuous, the downs, pleasant. Lakra was pounding the gravel in a rhythmic fashion. There was no way anyone could over-take this guy. He kept at it and make sure that no one was anywhere near him. And then came the climb, one of the steepest, the one where you just want to give up and just hobble. Not Lakra, he was lapping it up. And the trainee was exhausted and almost giving up.

Just then he heard a booming voice, a voice that used some choicest unprintable words, goading him into action. This man on a scooter at 5.30 am driving alongside, coaxing him to run and not give up. He did not care about the winter morning or the fact that the MT was not even in his department. All he wanted was for him to persist. The words helped. The MT started to run fiercely, his strides were getting better. Daljit Singh who had no business to be up that early in the morning, provided the much needed words of encouragement, and to a Management Trainee he cared for.

It was the home run, and just some 50 meters. Lakra was ahead and the MT was tiring, and Daljit was screaming. The MT put some real zing into the final kick and ran like never before, and past Lakra in the final 10 mts and into the ribbon and collapsed in a heap. All worn out and tired with the sweet sweat of success streaming down his face. Lakra patted him on his head and vanished. Daljit came up and instead of shaking the MT's hand, gave an affectionate slap. His brimming smile, mustachioed face and twinkling eyes said it all - the MT had won.

What mattered was that someone showed up. What does it take for someone to goad another in their hour of need? What motivated them to do this for another in a selfless way? 'Puttar, just make sure that you show up and cheer others and help them find their zone, and you will find yours' he one said. Motivation is more about giving than receiving. A selfless act that can be only returned by paying it forward. That race is still etched in my memory, for I was that Management Trainee. And of Daljit Singh, a man who taught me the foundation of motivation - to show up, coax and cheer.

Of Silly Questions, Pigeon Holes and Heroes

She was a simple lady, kind of short, and someone you could miss in a crowd. Let me call her Ms. AK. She talked fast and her hands spoke more than she did, gesticulating wildly at times. I did not like her. As did many around, who used to speak ill of her. I kept away from such conversations but could not help listening to an occasional bitching that came my way. She wanted to do business with the company that I worked for. This was many years ago. I was more hoity-toity then. So, you can imagine...

One day she invited me to a breakfast meeting. I winced. Ever wondered how when you are asked for time, the week following or the one after that was a ‘better’ time? She was persistent, and the day finally arrived.

She wore spectacles that were a tad large for her. How do I tell her that? She sat down and immediately started her sales pitch. I responded by asking a question, an inane one, the one that all recruiters use –, “Tell me about yourself.” She sat back. Her eyes rolled up gazing into the infinite past and started…

A daughter of a government official, she had a sister who was a ‘genius’, did very well in class. Her mother wanted AK to be a doctor and made her write the exam. She did ‘what she could’. And she cleared! Medical college admissions then or now, was not easy. I was warming up to her now. She went to the medical college and returned home after ten days. Said she did not like it. Her mother freaked out. And for the next whole year did not speak to her.

She then went to a regular college, and, of course, did well. Became the student union leader. Brought an MNC factory to a grinding stop for they had sacked a principal of a local school. AK was warned that acid would be thrown at her. She did not relent. Now, her story was really getting to be interesting and leaned forward, forgetting my dosas.

After her BSc she had to do ‘something’. Her uncle got her to write an entrance exam for admission to a leading Public sector unit. As usual, she aced the exam. And told her uncle that she did not ‘fit the culture’. So opted out. She was now in deep waters. Disowned by her family, she went to the same factory that she had helped ‘shut down’, seeking a job. The factory manager was furious! A kind man that he was, he relented and gave her a job in sales and marketing even though she was not an ‘MBA’. They gave her the jobs everyone hated to do. She worked hard and won each time. She moved to a larger company who asked her to do a stint in the US taking on an assignment that was surefire failure for anyone who had touched it. She won, and said, she did not know it was an impossible task. I was now at the edge of my seat. She returned to set up her own company, sold it to investors and took on a CEO’s job at this company. Sitting across me was the finest example of someone who fought life harder than any man.

She had been fighting like a warrior in a man’s world all along. And never gave up anytime. It is so easy to judge someone and pigeon hole them as good, bad, ugly! I was now in open admiration for this lady. What a story! In 60 minutes she taught me what it is to live a life of conviction of one’s goals. A shining example of never say die. She gave more to a job, and some more. She won, for she never judged work harshly. She taught me that it is important to see beyond the ostensible image. I became her fan!

To believe in oneself and carry on trying is the staple of champions. To try, and give an honest shot with all the power one has is learning how to win each time, every time. I forgot all rest of the things I said. I found a hero in her. To listen to the voice of the unheard, and see the unseen of a hero. A revelation – to see a hero beyond pigeons in the holes of ordinariness. All because of a ‘silly question’ we often use – ‘tell me something about yourself!’

Of Routine Matters and the Gift of Life

He was but an ordinary guy doing an ordinary job in an ordinary company. In the course of his job ‘Joe,’ let us call him that, had many requests and applications coming to him, and in some he had to weigh in with his views. All good. Many were about loans to be sanctioned and some were about making some exceptions. All very routine. He did what he could in his ordinary way to address each of these, on merit.

One day an ex-employee ‘Yo’ called him. Said it was the eighth birthday day of his daughter and asked him to be there for it was an important event. He found some excuse to extricate himself from such ordinary events. Yo was persistent, came home to meet him and told him a few things about his life over the past 4 years since he had left the city. He reminisced about many things including a loan. Said that he had applied for a medical loan for his daughter who was in critical condition at the hospital. And that the application had come up to Joe for approval. It was an amount that was twice the eligibility of Yo. Something that has never been approved of ever.

And yet, Joe had cleared it. With a small postscript ‘as a special case,’ just in case this came up for questioning by the auditors. He asked Joe if he remembered this case. Joe was quick to respond with a ‘no, don’t remember.’

Yo then told him that he owed his daughter’s life to Joe’s timely action. He was running from pillar to post and he had approached Joe with the request and was pleasantly surprised that the loan amount was approved. Joe mumbled something and the meeting was over. But not for Joe!

He sat back and thought about the number of cases he had handled in all his routineness. A small act of approval of a loan, with a small application of mind, had saved a life! It was not an ordinary job after all! An act of great kindness is one where the giver does not know it and the receiver does. If this is what a routine job could do, look what he could have done with application of mind, he thought.

Joe was lost in his world of ordinariness of what he should carry as a gift for the daughter, as she has already has had a gift of life.

Of Departed Flights and Goodness

Let me call him AB. I did not know him well. He was a very senior person in the industry. I held a slightly arm’s length with him. In meetings he was always vociferous and made his points clearly. Today was no different. In all the cacophony in the room, his voice was clear and soft. He ran his own company. I was not sure of him. I thought he was wanting to get something from everyone. After the meeting, he said he would drop me to the airport. I agreed. Nice car, his BMW. We reached the airport. He parked his car and he wanted to have some coffee with me. He was doing some ‘business development’ I thought. He had 40 minutes, he said.

The coffee arrived as did a lean young man with a hint of worry on his forehead. He hesitatingly asked us if we could help him. He had missed his flight and the airline was not in a position to take him on the next without a fresh ticket, which was really expensive. He was going to Srinagar. And he had no money to foot the big cost.

Here we were two suited gentlemen and he thought we wielded some influence! I was not sure what to do. AB did not hesitate. He simply asked some questions and asked me if we would help the man in trouble. He did not wait for a response, and went to the reservation counter and spent the next 30 minutes speaking with passion that we ought to be gentler with our Kashmiri brother. Rulebooks were thrown at us. AB would not give up. I added my two rupees’ worth.

Finally, the reservation manager relented and a fresh ticket was issued for a flight the next day – something that is seldom done. All thanks to AB, for a complete stranger who approached us.

AB need never have done this. Yet he did. And he did not allow for any big drama of gratitude. And made it look easy in the eyes of a stranger who almost gave up hope of getting back and in time, to his family.

How easy it is to judge someone and sometimes unfairly, and carry an impression that is never validated. A simple act of kindness witnessed at close quarters left me in wonderment.

Respect does not grow in an instant. In my case it did. And I was acutely aware of my failing - Inability to see the goodness beyond the image is the same as impaired vision. I thanked the young man. It was time to leave. Our 40 minutes were up. I felt the extra warmth when I hugged AB.

It took a departed flight to understand the goodness in someone.