Boss!

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Oooohahahahahahahahahahahaha! (cough,cough)!

Please pardon me! I know this is not a civil way to start a conversation. I mean with a laughter which threatens to overshoot the decibel levels prescribed by the Hon’ble Supreme Court for fire crackers. But then I just could not hold back given the hilarious scenario drawn out by this sweet little ignorant friend of mine. I am sorry, it should be Boss of mine. Here is a ready refresher for you!

 

Confessions first. No, I was not interested in becoming an Engineer or a Doctor and I didn’t even pretend trying to be one. No I was not keen on an MBA degree and attain the cushy comforts of an AC cabin either. I became what I wanted to, a Salesman. Not to be confused with sales managers, country heads et el who dish out high sounding discourse delivered in lyrical English. I wanted to be the crux of the wheel, the nuts and bolts of a successful sales team which delivered results. The dirty your hands brigade which is in the forefront of a market war. The driver, the accelerator on which depend the entire future of a product, service or the company. The real meaningful work. Not for me the hours spent on ‘XL’ sheets and conjuring up imaginary data. Not for me the frequent bouts with power points to dispense fundas which have no bearing on the market place. I wanted the ‘high’ of putting an entry barrier to competition, convert their customers, switch their consumers, create a network of loyal partners impossible to breach, improve and retain market share or minimize the loss of it. In short I wanted to be the man of action and not just the “Boardroomla punch dialogue” kind of MBAs. Not for me the perils of blood pressure because you are sitting helpless in an AC cabin far away from the front depending on someone else to deliver for you. Not for me the ulcers and indigestion because should you fail, you lose your entire standing among superiors, peers and subordinates. Not for me the fear of a pink slip as there are always millions of openings for a ’25 years expert in field work’ as against the lonely on top kind of positions. To be the kinds who like mosquitoes, cockroaches and Mallus can survive anything.  In a nutshell a soldier who would rather die fighting, win or lose than a General wearing meaningless medals or signing surrender document.

I would be lying if these were the only motivation for me to become a Salesman. Look at the perks I enjoy. My day starts at 11 AM with a visit to the tea kadai patented by us salesman in the market place. Notes are exchanged with salesman of various other companies who in their ignorance start early and come to the joint to report ‘market situation’ and more often than not do my portion of the selling.(I am regularly in a position to make ‘offers’ to salesmen of small 2/2, garage sized ‘local’ companies you see!) A few more rounds of tea, masala vadai and market gossip later, I break to Annachi Mess for my favorite ‘meen’ curry lunch. Depending on the weather an early trek homewards for a couple of hours of siesta is often indulged in. Or another visit to the tea kadai for hot bajjis. Once a week I take a detour to the distributors office, collect all the data of sales done by ‘me’, prepare the report, ‘patao’ the distributor into signing a sales order and walk into the  ‘AC Cabin’ for my weekly dose of ‘blood pressure, ulcers and piles’. The session might last between one to three hours depending on the dates. They are longer during the month ends for obvious reasons. All ‘hot air’ is silently tolerated, defended when possible or deftly redirected when not so. Should the same go beyond tolerable limits, “Business is bad Sir, if you don’t believe me why don’t you come to the market and see for yourself” cools down the temperature. (These AC cabinwallas get out of it only to go home!) Not for me the promotions which I have been regularly rejecting. A much-in-demand man, who every time I get an offer from the competition, cajole my company into giving me a raise. And now I hold the honour of the highest paid salesman in the company! Why wouldn’t I take the promotion you ask? Read further.

ON DUTY is a phrase perfected by our clan of Salesmen.  Marriage to attend? On duty! School fees of children to be paid or the monthly PTM? On duty! Queue up for tickets for the latest Super Star movie to be watched? On duty! Dravid is batting now? On duty!  Dhoni will be batting next? On duty! From bus pass to bike repair, from a visit to Marina to even babysitting. We don’t take time off. We are ON DUTY! In fact the quip doing the rounds is that we salesman should be added to the list of services under ESMA like Police, Hospitals, Fire Service etc! We are always on duty.

 AND the pleasure of frequently ‘bossing’ over these freshly graduated ‘suit-boot-tie’ type MBAs is priceless! No money and definitely no Master card can buy this pinnacle of pleasure. Sheer Nirvana! I call them boss but they know who actually is! Nothing matches the ecstasy of showing them their place, breaking them in, making their bones as the expression is. As you would have guessed, I delight in ‘training’ them. I don’t have AC cabins, company cars, company credit cards, the works and neither do I crave for these as long as I get a regular dose of this tail wagging the dog. The ultimate aphrodisiac.

To reiterate, I am happy, in fact proud of what I am, a Salesman! And why do I get this funny feeling that many of you would like to join me!
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Thanks @Rfed1! Your ‘Boss’ has been a real help!

What's the target?

“I thought you would become an Engineer or a Doctor but……….!”

The above lines spoken by my dear dear Mother pierced my heart every time I thought of it. I mean it almost gave me a feeling that I am just another of those failures in life almost at par with a repulsive slug! A wastrel whose existence in this world has no meaning. Someone who has missed the bus in this birth and might as well await the inevitable demise and hopefully do better in the next life by living up to the career path chosen for me by her .i.e,”become an Engineer or a Doctor”. Who would have the guts to argue with her that everyone in the world does not become an Engineer or a Doctor. I mean that is like wanting seven Sundays a week or eleven Sachin Tendulkars in the Indian cricket team.

Not that I didn’t try to live up to her ambition. I too burned the midnight oil, mugged up the heavyweight books, religiously attended post school tuition and took my annual pilgrimage to the ‘JEE’ with utter devotion, all for her. I mean, just for her! But then the results told me what I always knew. I was not cut out to be a either an Engineer or a doctor. You can say, the script of ‘3 Idiots’ was written well before Chetan Bhagat or Raju Hirani even dreamt about it! Finally my Mom resigned to my fate and permitted me to do that MBA, Sales & Marketing which I always wanted to do! All you Engineers/Doctors, soon to be engineers/ doctors or hope to be engineers/ doctors, may kindly stop giggling. An MBA degree is no joke mates. Especially when you compete with some of the brightest minds in the country who couldn’t become Engineers or Doctors and those who did end up becoming Engineers and Doctors! To cut the flash back short and come to the present immediately, yes I did manage to pass out and yes I did manage to land a plum assignment with an MNC in the Sales department.

Once into the rat race, I suddenly realized that a few lakhs as fees and a few years of slogging over books doesn’t take you beyond the patronizing smile of a ‘25 years expert’ in ‘field work’ who is assigned to break you in. A loser in life who could neither live up to his Mom’s dictate nor lug books to a business school. I was put through the grind of unlearning the “A/c cabin ka gyaan” and make my bones in the ‘market’ just like the newest shooter in the underworld did. A few months of grind later, the eventual happened. I got an offer from the competition on much better terms and designation. And Lo! I finally experienced what they teach you in Business schools, competition is the best thing to happen to us. And I also learnt that you should like your organization but love your career. The simple guru mantra to take the elevator rather than the staircase to the Air conditioned cabin with a Secretary, driver, ‘personal’ peon was upon me in a flash. So too were an unlimited expenses and entertainment budget, membership to frequent flyer programme , company car, company credit card, cheque signing authority, the works I mean.

To say I was lucky is only part of the story. Getting the above perks was not easy but it didn’t stretch me too much either. But keeping these was another story altogether. With every floor that I rose, so did my waistline, every success added to my daily intake of tablets for Blood Pressure, every high gave my ulcers a more severe jolt. Targets, targets, targets, every month, every day, hour, minute. Oh the pressure of it! A living hell till it is done, not once, not twice but every time.  Plan A, Plan B, Plan C and yet another back up plan if the above plans didn’t work. Pesky customers who behaved like they were the Queen bestowing the OBC on me every time they placed an order.  Customers, whose cheques bounced with the inevitable finality of Indian openers failing on bouncier tracks. Stock holders with hundred shares and thought their wish should be my command. Sundry consultants who at the drop of a hat were summoned to give me lectures on ‘Target orientation’. “A business without target is like a game of soccer without goal posts” being the most quoted gospel.

And then I learnt what they don’t teach you in business schools. Competition is not good for you! Every time you think you have a winner of a product or a service, the competition either came with a cheaper me-too or a better offer. You expanded the network, they followed suit. You programmed a “never before, never again” scheme only to be duplicated across the terrain before you could take the same National. Small 2/2, garage sale sized ‘local’ companies with no baggage, no overheads, no ‘heavy’ National team and a Country Head, fleet footed, with ears to the ground chipping away at your market share.  New entrant MNCs with a war chest to push you off the pedestal. Pressure, pressure, so much of it that a last ball six to win a T20 match seems a walk in the park in comparison. Social life became a zilch, family life zero, marriages were given a miss, hobbies and interests were mere words that you quoted in your bio, friends group consisted of fellow journeymen chasing the imaginary growth percentages over rounds of Bloody Mary. Millions of different ways were invented to ask only one question, “How much more, to meet this month’s sales plan?” Airports, railway stations, bus stands and national highways became your permanent address……………………………………………

Then one day the bubble burst! It had to! And I saw light! I will not go through this pain again. I will not let the life be consumed by these meaningless and never ending targets. I will not get into the vicious cycle of going around in circles to stay where you are. And I told this straight, no holds barred, without any emotion or hesitation:

“I hope you will become an Engineer or a Doctor, Son!”