Slice of Work #14 — The Man Who Hired His Boss

I knew Thomas who wanted to move out of his firm and had landed a cushy job in the same city that he lived in. A big plus. The added advantage was the prospect of some stocks that would fetch him good money. He seemed coasting along in his life after he had put down his papers.

As was his nature, he called up a few of his friends to let them know about it. When he called up one of his ex-team members, Sheen, he got a strange response. While all others had supported his move, Sheen was hesitant and Thomas asked him about it. Sheen said, “Thomas, I have been thinking about who should be my new boss in the firm that I have joined. I think it should be you.” Thomas was a bit hesitant but he asked Sheen to progress the referral.

Things moved fast and he got selected. It was an MNC and the leaders he met were very fine people. He forgot all about the stock and the money. It did not seem to matter. The only rub was that it was in another city. He called up Sheen and told him about his selection. Sheen was at his persuasive best to take the job. Thomas consulted his family and the shift happened. A new city, a new culture and new settings.

Thomas grew in his role and did well for himself as I knew he would. I have often thought of Sheen. He was so selfless and had the courage to ask his ex-boss to join the firm that he was working. In a way he hired his boss. I knew Sheen and asked him the reason for asking Thomas to join his firm and laughingly he said, “A known devil is better than an unknown one.” He is a good man and I don’t think I learnt enough from him, he added.

Sheen moved on to become a leader in another firm and is doing well for himself. Leaders are made, and made differently. Each one of them. The best of them find goodness in others and even hire them as their bosses.

Slice of Work #13 — Driving a Lesson About Work

I started my career as a Management Trainee at a well-known MNC. It was at a factory manufacturing explosives for the mining industry. Our nearest government district head-quarters were some 60 miles away. I used to be sent to such places to ‘chase’ some matters in the labor department that needed follow ups. It was not a great job, and I used to be really upset that I was asked to do these ‘silly’ jobs. I could never understand why they needed someone from the finest B School. As you can see I had a heavy chip on my shoulder.

It was one such day that my manager called me and asked me to go to Giridih district to follow up on a file on labour. Although I protested, he would not hear of it and told me that a car would arrive at 7 AM the next day. It was a two-hour ride to the town. The following day I was getting ready to leave and seething at the thought of the ‘silly’ job that I was to do. I came down to the car that was to take me to town and noticed something strange.

The driver Ram Lal, was burnishing the black ‘Ambassador’ car to a fine shine. I walked up to him and asked him what he was up to. He said that he was polishing the car with wax. I told him that the dusty road would ruin the shine anyway, and that it was pointless. He said, “Sir, I love my car and I love my job. There is no work that is small and while the dust may yet settle back, if I did not polish the car it would look shabby and reflect poorly on me.” Ram Lal was no ordinary driver.

I got into the car and was about to slam the door when he rushed and gently closed the car with a click. “I did not want the door to be slammed shut,” he said. He started the car and shifted gears in a gentle way. He kept talking along the drive and about how work was divine and that he was fortunate to be working. I had reached Giridih in 90 minutes, and it was one of the best of rides despite the bad roads. I complimented him on that. He said that a car should be driven with the least bumpiness as if a child were in it.

I walked to the labour office. I met the officer with a smile on my face and confidently so as I had got all the simple jobs done with perfection. The work got done in a jiffy. We drove back and I was lost in an even more absorbing conversation with him. He taught me the value of respecting work and doing it with devotion. On Teachers Day, I thought of Ram Lal, my greatest teacher, to thank him and sincerely, so for driving the greatest lesson of work in me. And early in my career.

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 Lessons in Life & Warm Hugs

Ram met S this morning. S was a very simple man. Highly accomplished in his field. Very soft

spoken. Pleasant. He dropped in to tell his boss Ram that he had decided to quit the firm. All

very rushed. Ram was in two minds. He needed S but he was not sure if it was right to keep S

who was getting a big job in another company. S had come in to bid him goodbye and to see if

he could get some advice from him as to how to deal with life and growth within.

Ram was a tough man. Not given to a lot of words. Instead he asked S a question. What will
this change mean to your family? That was a golden question. S calmly explained that it would
be a great one for his family as it would give him more time with his wife who was suffering
from a depression. Something about his wife’s condition that was like a bipolar disorder –
given to bouts of depression, and when she was out of it she was an angel. And she did not
remember a thing about her past behavior. Ram was getting a bit nervous about the sensitive
information coming his way. He wanted to be empathetic but not sure if he was good enough.

S told him that despite all this, he deeply loved his wife and would want to go through any
trouble to be just with her. And that he had been counseled that he should perhaps divorce
her, etc. Ram was now out of his depth. He feebly asked S about how long did the condition
last. About 20% of the time she was in the troubled zone he was told. This was a bit much.
Once in 5 days! And before he could ask more questions, S asked Ram as to what he needed
to do to be a better manager and a human being. Ram was bamboozled! Why then would he
continue to stay with his troubled wife if she was off 20% of the time?

S sat back. For about 80% of the time when she is normal, it is worth every moment, he said.
She was very caring and affectionate, an epitome of goodness, someone to be emulated. S
was lost in his words. And quietly added, “Because I respect her.”

It was Ram’s turn to be silent. What advice could he give to someone who was so humane?
He did what he could do best — walked up to S and gave him a warm hug and clung on to him
a tad more. For in that hug, he had just met his teacher!

Of Affection, Appreciation and Gratitude

I left for my morning walk and came near a park. An eight-year-old child running off the park into a busy road had my heart racing. Suddenly a man appeared from nowhere and scooped up the child, just in time and laughed heartily. And the child screamed with joy, “Dad, you saved my life! You are best father in the world.” That was father-son bonding at its best. Whew! No chiding, no shouting; just two souls in a bond of affection—precious, timeless.

Tea at home after a walk was a routine affair. My neighbor dropped in with his daughter Priya, a youngster who had secured admission into a good technology college. My wife congratulated Priya and sang her praise in high notes, only to be told by the neighbor that this was not a big deal, etc, downplaying her achievement. Priya was a bit under the sun and under the cloud at the same time, and she ran off.

The afternoon brought in news of an unfortunate nature: A good friend and a guru of many years passed away after a brief illness. He was 63. I shared the news of his demise and wrote a few lines of what VS Mahesh meant to me, on Facebook and other groups. Felt guilty that i had not told him this. There was a flood of eulogy from people talking about what a wonderful man he was … and this went on for a long time. We captured our thoughts in a page, which we sent to his widow, later that week.

This morning I was deep in thought of those 3 incidents. It struck me that as we grow older; our propensity to express our affection for someone goes down. Our appreciation, and our gratitude, and what people mean to us, goes down over time. It does pick up when one is a lot older, as in a grandparent’s unbridled love of their grandchild, something that they missed out as a parent, unrequited love, no holds barred ... Small wonder grandparents are loved the world over. 

The child taught me unconditional love. I am sure Priya would have loved to be acknowledged. And what use of praising someone when he long since gone?

Perhaps, in our living day, can we catch someone doing something right each day? Can we appreciate someone once a day? Can we let our friends know what they mean to us? And express gratitude to people who made a difference, in our lives … when they are still around? Maybe you want to start right now? Call your aunt / uncle / dad / mom / friend anyone! And let them know what they mean to you and why. I am sure VS Mahesh would have loved that.