I woke up at 7 and looked at the watch - actually the mobile; haven’t been using a watch since the past year or so. My 10-year old time-piece conked out and I don’t want to replace it with just any junk. One doesn’t upgrade a long-faithful 14” Onida for a 22” one; one goes instead for the high-definition plasma ‘experience’.
So anyway, it being 7 am on a Sunday morning, I switched-off for some more shut-eye. But my brain being the sort of villain it is - started shooting me red-alerts only an hour past. It knows. It knows that sleeping late on a Sunday is not the sort of luxury I can enjoy right now. As I was discussing with a friend the other day - Education ruined us.
I don’t really mean that. I would not like being vella. I like to work, to apply myself with a ferocity that scares even me at times. It’s just that - there are moments when I realize the viciousness of the cycle that I have got myself into. The pressure is intense, the will to excel is too; but the bar keeps getting raised. I know I will never ever fall short, but what happens to those dreams of long vacations, movie-marathons, quality family-time, gymming and dance classes, adda-ing with friends - lost&found&past&present, book-clubs and copious reading, love?
It is a tight-rope walk alright. Somedays I find it exhilarating - actually most days I do. You have to stay-put, up there in the air; neeche gehri khaai hai - bottomless chasm of never-ending responsibilities, assignments and promotions no doubt - but leaving you with slight opportunity to enjoy the fruits of labor.
And I am talking on behalf of most of the well-educated, talented people nowadays who get into crème-de-la-crème jobs early-on in life and then get creamed.
Chuck. On a lighter note, I recently visited the markets with a salesman who happens to be an artiste - the acting-bug has him in its girraft - and he boasts of a repertoire comprising some 200-odd shayaris. He started belting them out on the ride back. Now, I remember Banjo talking about a similar experience on his travels. But I am one-up on him. Peruse this -
Dibbi pe dibbi, dibbe mein choona
Dibbi pe dibbi, dibbe mein choona
Jab Shreya madam jaaegi Puna
Prime Distributors ho jaaega soona!
Heh. The perks of this job are many. Some are obvious and some - a little unconventional. These latter ones do ‘perk-you-up’, nonetheless.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Monday, June 02, 2008
Amdavad!
Long-time-no-see daahlings. I am in Amdavad. Have been since the past one week. Has it only been a week since I landed straight from Baroda at the distributor’s avec almost all my worldly possessions – ready to take charge?
Truly speaking, it has been the best week at work so far. Life does the hula-hoops around targets, invoices, inventory, margins and discounts. There are market visits – irate shopkeepers who lay bare all the torturous practices (real or imaginary) that Levers has subjected them to, or extremely ingratiated ones who want to transfuse your blood with Wagh Bakri. I fire-fight, and when actions fail, words soothe. Saving the best for the last, the crowning glory of this week has been - being in a position where I am to lead seven grown men – all graduates and experienced at their work – the Salesmen. People, whom I am supposed to motivate, monitor, remonstrate quite frequently and nurture. I try.
The other stud in the stable is the distributor - one of those picture-perfect seths – cash-cribbing, daughter-doting, wily-little-magnate, who probably learnt aatte-daal kaa bhaav before the alphabet.
Sales is something else. It’s dog-eat-dog and dynamic – extremely affected by externalities – be those in the form of a dip in the share market or the new school year. To explain – both of the above result in ‘market mein mandi’ since trade does not have the purchasing power. Then there is the fact that all the stakeholders are constantly trying to take you for a ride. I sleep like a dog – an eye and a ear open, on constant alert.
A shopkeeper recently kept asking me – Madam, kya aap practical ho? I finally asked him to explain to me the meaning of the word and as it turns out, he was worried that being a girl, I wouldn’t be able to get my work done, if need be, through underhanded means – tedhi oongli kaa istamaal. I wonder. Although it has nothing to do with being a girl. That if anything, is an advantage.
You may ponder if you have the time and patience that this that I am describing does not sound all that different from what I was doing in the first two weeks. Let me explain. Then I was a hanger-on, an observer, a side-kick at best. Now I am the one whose head will roll. A couple of cool crores hold me to ransom.
As of now, I am celebrating, one of the many targets has been met and I am taking my boys out to dinner. They worked hard towards it – madam se party jo leni thi. Smart boys – street-wise since they spend so much time on it, making ample use of psychology and subliminal coercion to meet their ends. I like them, but my mind at times screams in militaristic fashion – saavdhaan!
Watte industry. I am sorry to see little red riding hood, or whatever of her was left, take flight. On the other hand, someone had once said, which went on to make television history – Welcome to the real world; it sucks; but you will love it.
Truly speaking, it has been the best week at work so far. Life does the hula-hoops around targets, invoices, inventory, margins and discounts. There are market visits – irate shopkeepers who lay bare all the torturous practices (real or imaginary) that Levers has subjected them to, or extremely ingratiated ones who want to transfuse your blood with Wagh Bakri. I fire-fight, and when actions fail, words soothe. Saving the best for the last, the crowning glory of this week has been - being in a position where I am to lead seven grown men – all graduates and experienced at their work – the Salesmen. People, whom I am supposed to motivate, monitor, remonstrate quite frequently and nurture. I try.
The other stud in the stable is the distributor - one of those picture-perfect seths – cash-cribbing, daughter-doting, wily-little-magnate, who probably learnt aatte-daal kaa bhaav before the alphabet.
Sales is something else. It’s dog-eat-dog and dynamic – extremely affected by externalities – be those in the form of a dip in the share market or the new school year. To explain – both of the above result in ‘market mein mandi’ since trade does not have the purchasing power. Then there is the fact that all the stakeholders are constantly trying to take you for a ride. I sleep like a dog – an eye and a ear open, on constant alert.
A shopkeeper recently kept asking me – Madam, kya aap practical ho? I finally asked him to explain to me the meaning of the word and as it turns out, he was worried that being a girl, I wouldn’t be able to get my work done, if need be, through underhanded means – tedhi oongli kaa istamaal. I wonder. Although it has nothing to do with being a girl. That if anything, is an advantage.
You may ponder if you have the time and patience that this that I am describing does not sound all that different from what I was doing in the first two weeks. Let me explain. Then I was a hanger-on, an observer, a side-kick at best. Now I am the one whose head will roll. A couple of cool crores hold me to ransom.
As of now, I am celebrating, one of the many targets has been met and I am taking my boys out to dinner. They worked hard towards it – madam se party jo leni thi. Smart boys – street-wise since they spend so much time on it, making ample use of psychology and subliminal coercion to meet their ends. I like them, but my mind at times screams in militaristic fashion – saavdhaan!
Watte industry. I am sorry to see little red riding hood, or whatever of her was left, take flight. On the other hand, someone had once said, which went on to make television history – Welcome to the real world; it sucks; but you will love it.
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