“Have you joined anywhere?”
“No.”
“Have plans to...any offer..?”
“No...no thoughts yet.”
The Boss pressed the remote bell and the attendant appeared.
“Would you like sandwiches or something else...?”
“Tea or coffee would be better.”
The Boss nodded and asked the attendant to pass on the ashtray before he left. He lighted a cigarette and stretched relaxingly on the couch.
“What exactly is your problem?”
“Nothing...the issue is not me, not about me...no personal complaints...”
“...you are a good hand...if you think your career gets better shape with some other people; I will say all the best. But, I would want to have people like you in my team so, I should know what is there in my place which makes good people leave us...”, the Boss said haltingly focusing all the while on the cigarette which he rolled between his fingers.
Mayank held his reply...weighed his words...checked with his resolve; asked himself, ‘do I really want to do it, will it be of any use’, realized it quick that he had nothing to lose. He understood, all good things take time to come through and that should not deter people in taking the very difficult first step. He resolved he would take a chance with destiny.
“Sir, I am completely unemployed now, not even a wife or kid waiting for me at home so, I have lots of time but I understand; you are extremely busy person. What I have to say, and given a chance I would like to say, will take a long elaboration”, he said with a grin on the face to make the environment relaxed and agreeable.
“Nobody has invited me for lunch either...”, the owner returned the grin.
Mayank got positive, shifted position on the chair to take off his plan. The Boss also moved slightly forward on the couch in an apparent bid to lend ears to him.
“A few centuries back, there was a monk who was famous for his magical powers of cure. People would come to him with terminal diseases and he would cure them by the touch of his hand. There however was another strange thing about him. He would always be weeping. His eyes would shed tears incessantly, even when he would be in deep sleep. Often, he would raise both his hands towards open sky and would cry and howl like a baby. People around him and even his own disciples had never seen him speak a single word since last 20 years. One day, his childhood friend visited him and first time people saw him smiling. His friend was very concerned and asked him about his continuous tears and wails. He wondered; when his magic could cure pains of thousands of humans, what pains made him weep and moan. The monk replied, ‘I am not in pain, I have no problems. I weep and cry to draw the attention of the God Almighty. There is so much pain and problems with millions of humans in the world and God alone has to take care of all of them. People speak to God in languages which they themselves have created, so their appeals do not reach him. Almighty receives only pure emotions as a language and there are only two words in his language – the weep and wail and the second is smile and laughter. You do not weep in French or Chinese languages, similarly smile and laughter is common in all human languages. I weep and wail so that God could pay attention to me and lift me in his lap.’ The monk told his friend that he did not have any magical powers of cure. What he did was to take the pains of others and pass it on to the Almighty through his tears and wails and it reaches him. He is then moved and cures them. Normal humans could not get God’s solutions as they could not speak to him in the language of pure emotions which God understands. The monk said he just worked as a translator.”
The boss did not react...played with his lighter for a few second, probably taking his time for the story to sink into his mind. Was about to say something when the coffee arrived and he checked his words. He asked the attendant to put the coffee tray on the table in front of his couch and waived him off. He asked Mayank for sugar and made coffee himself for both.
“Forgive me if I am wrong because I am a business person, not versed with the intricacies of emotionalism of literature. What I make out of your story is first, I do not understand the language of my people and their problems and secondly, there are too many problems in the place I own.”
“You have approached the reality from the wrong end.”
“But the fact anyway is that I am ignorant about the problems, isn’t it?”
“True it is; but not your fault. It is not ignorance but a communication bottleneck.”
“So, what I have to take out of that, where do I figure in the problem and what is expected of me. Do I have ready solutions?”
“That exactly is the purpose of my story. You are the almighty of this small universe where life has put you, me and a few others. You have all the solutions. You can never be a problem and do not figure in any of the problems because you have created this for all of us. You actually figure in all the solutions, you have the power to mitigate all pains of all those in your universe. The problem is that problems do not reach you, not because you are ignorant. It is because you are busy, very busy and problems are not being reached to you as you do not have a monk in your top and middle management ranks. The meek workers of your universe have double trouble. They neither have a magical monk who could work for them as the translator, like the one in my story, nor do they know to speak the language which their almighty understands. In this case, their God is not even accessible.”
The owner looked unsettled. Probably too many things had come up in too short a time for him to grab and react. He lighted a cigarette and this time also offered Mayank. He took it but did not light up.
“Sir, if you allow me and extend some liberty, I would like to make things clear for you. I only request you not to react immediately; let the talk sink in, let issues get processed in leisure. You have the last word on all matters so; you have nothing to worry about.”
The Boss didn’t say anything, continued smoking and gestured him to go ahead, still in the same thoughtfulness.
“There is small bit of an attitude crisis, better call it a psychological trap for people who are big, successful, leaders in their fields of activity and owners of fortunes which they make with so much pain and perseverance.”
The Boss raised his eyes from the ashtray and fixed it on him. Mayank could see the apprehension in his eyes. He had succeeded in getting his attention back on his talk.
“Success and achievement becomes a habit and second nature for them. That is why; they pay more attention to answers than the questions. They do not want to listen to the problem but move ahead to talk about solutions. Answers and solutions are the script of success and continued achievement and it is quite natural that leaders and owners always avoid questions and problems. The trouble is; the top and middle management people, who always look for keeping the owners in good mood and remain his blue eyed boy, stop the access of problems and question to the owners. They actually kill the questions and problems. God cannot be him if he fails to listen to the problems and questions of his people. He may not solve them but every human has the liberty and faith to tell him his problems and this is how almighty remains their last hope.”
The Boss looked more focused now to him and his talks. Mayank thought of moving ahead with his dialogue but checked himself. He thought it more useful to take along the right perception of the owner with his talk so that he could be on the same plane of perception.
“It interests me to see things from a different perspective, the one you are putting ahead. I am also open to travel the path along with you, though not fully confident. Actually, to be frank, I am not mentally prepared to sit over such larger issues which I believe you wish me to. My immediate concern is; as you probably said it right, the solution of the current crisis. I am probably trained this way but even you would admit, solutions are important than problems. And I would surely like to see the solution of the problem at hand then move on to other larger issues which you seem to be interested in.”
“Sir, my purpose also is the solution. Actually, there never was a problem. It was made one and now it is being made out that the solution is difficult, which isn’t.”
“Do you understand we are losing big revenue because of the government ad ban?”
“Yes, I am a journalist but it does not mean I am not concerned about the financial health of the newspaper which provides me bread and butter.”
“Do you mean to say, there is a ready solution to get over the ad ban?”
“Yes sir; we can start getting ads from tomorrow, if we do a small thing.”
“Okay; let me say I trust you on that front but what about you?”
“My resignation is like the cry and wail of the monk to attract the attention of the almighty about the problems our institution and people within it have, which has no ready solution but needs one.”
“And what I have to do for you to take it back?”
“You are already doing it, giving me your precious time and attention. But I think I will need more of both, if not right now.”
“So, it is a deal now…”
“No sir, it is not a deal. It is a humble request from my side. I will work out the solution for the government ad ban and may be back to work after you sit out over the whole thing which I wish to tell you.”
“Call it what suits you but I call it a deal so that I could move ahead with it. What next?”
Mayank told him that he would get an appointment with the chief minister and the Boss along with the editor would meet him the next day. Both of them must go as it would relax the hurt ego of the politician. When they would meet him, the Boss would have two options. One, he could simply say sorry, making it clear to the chief minister that they could not calculate it right that the story could make such brouhaha. Even the chief minister knows the story was not incorrect but the timing was wrong and that is why there is no harm saying a simple sorry. Second option would be to throw up the coin of tit for tat. They would say to the chief minister that they were ditched. The rival newspaper also had the story and their editor had an understanding with their editor that both of them would run the story as the scam was more of a bureaucratic bungling with little political overtones. But unfortunately the rival editor played the game and held the story back. They would say they never believed that such a trouble would be caused and then would say sorry.
The Boss listened to his solution. He stretched back on the couch in a relaxed posture. Lighted another cigarette and took a deep gasp. He looked at his watch and rose up.
“We meet tomorrow. I want you to be with me when we go to the chief minister’s place. I presume you have not talked to the editor and others since you resigned and I don’t think you need to till tomorrow”, the Boss said in his usual authoritative voice as he gestured Mayank to come along.
At the door, when Mayank was about to leave, the Boss said, “Your second option is a better one, if we pull it off well.” Mayank only nodded in affirmative.
**
CHAPTER 7
The quartet of infinite intelligence, as Mayank would love to call them, the top and middle management pillars of his newspaper were faced with a precarious situation. The Boss had asked them to hold a meeting among themselves and list those areas in their respective fields which affected the work excellence and quality management. He had asked them to then come to his hotel suite for a post-lunch meeting with him and discuss solutions of all outstanding problems.
The editor, general manager, sales and marketing heads were at loss as what they were supposed to do. Fifteen minutes had passed since the start of the meeting but nothing was discussed.
“What is this work excellence and quality management stupidity...fuck this bloody job...who the bastard devised such cactus ideas that owners use to bleed the asshole of their employees”, the editor said in utter exasperation.
“Editor Saaheb, Marco Polo traversed over twenty-four thousand kilometers and visited many countries in search of the excellence and quality but still he could not find one. How can you find it in an hour’s meeting? I think, you should go to the Boss, hand over your resignation to him and take off to an unending journey similar to Marco Polo”, the sales head said in his typical jocular style.
“Editor Saheb, I think I can understand a bit what the Boss meant”, the marketing head intervened, looking serious as he would always be.
“Please...keep your knowledge to yourself. Am I interested? Am I troubled? I am doing as best as I could. If Boss asks me, I will simply say, given the team of idiots in the editorial, I am bringing out the best possible newspaper. And despite that, editorial quality is the best in the market. The poor newsprint and those typical sales problems are none of my concerns. If the management cannot sell a good content what the editorial can do? I have no quality problems rather; it is my efforts that even these idiots in my team deliver excellent results”.
“Editor Saheb, we are using the best quality newsprint. Others use the foreign and Indian newsprint in 40:60 ratios whereas we do it 45:55. You cannot complain about the newsprint”, an irritated general manager said.
“Then...that shifts the blame on the sales team. But can we sell apples if we are given peanuts. Sales is a simple love affair. What looks good sells good. And I am not talking about the face but the whole body. The most voluptuous and ripe whore gets the best price. Customer satisfaction is not in the face and limbs; it is in the torso of the body. I have time and again said that the newspaper has emaciated torso pages. Customer has a choice and he will buy the best. Or, I suggest you lower the price. Even then you may not get the desired result. If you ask me, I am not sleeping with a flat-chest size-zero whore even if she comes free.”
“I also feel that something is missing in our pages. The same news we have in our newspaper too but you get more satisfaction when you read it in rival newspaper. I do not understand much about the content thing but it seems, they present it better and the layout is also clean”, the general manager added, looking expectantly at the sales head.
“Sir..., with due respect to all, my trouble is that my clients say they get lower response per ad insertion even when we claim, as per the latest IRS figures that our readership has gone up. The rivals have edge over us as clients feel their response ratio is better than us”, the marketing head said avoiding eye contact with the editor.
“It is quite natural...that is what I was saying”, the editor picked up his arsenal, “it is because of the faulty sales policy…how can you expect good response when you sell the newspaper to the tea stall, roadside vendors and petty retailers. Haven’t I complained in the past that the sales guys never visit the apartments and affluent households? And how can you expect this from these sales guys who look no better than street-side loafers. They look as intimidating as recovery agents of a private sector bank. And what about the poor quality gifts the sales team has distributed to the readers for the subscription schemes?”
“Editor Saheb, only recently you complained that sales guys were paid more than your editorial people and they looked like sahibs in comparison to the later. You had even told the boss that your editorial team had inferiority complex vis-a-vis the sales guys as they were given smart dresses from company whereas your team wore the same stinking shirt for three days. This blame game serves no purpose. Newspaper is like a team work, I am not denying that but there is also no second opinion that it is the product and its USP that creates brand. The brand searches its own market. We only ensure that if there is a demand, our channels are in place to keep the stocks ready and on top of the shelf”, the sales head said, looking straight in the eye of the editor, keeping his left arm on his shoulders.
“Pandey Ji, it is easy to say things. I accept, content is the real brand but this brand is raped every day. You expect us to swim with our hands tied. You yourself sold the newspaper like a hot cake the day we broke the medical scam story. What happened? Everyone, including the Boss is out to cut a slice out of my ass. And that is not only it. Somebody has even gone on to blame it on my boozing. Areh..! I have been taking liquor since my college days and if that was such a big doom for me, I would not have been an editor for the last fifteen years. The problem is, editorial is like the young widow of a poor man whom everyone wants to rape and then declare her a witch.”
“Oh ho...! Editor Saheb, you always look at things from a wrong angle”, the sales head said. “Why the hell you feel editorial is a week and meek widow? I tell you a story I was told recently. Once there was a global convention on women’s right and women of all ages from countries all over the world had gathered to discuss measures and action for betterment of women’s plight, especially working out a plan to protect them from the torture of men folk. Serious speeches were being made and there was so much noise. In the midst of all these, a beautiful teenage girl sat on the front row of seats and kept polishing her nails, looking completely disinterested and disenchanted by happenings around her. Many women were watching her and finally a woman speaker from the dais could not tolerate it. She called the girl on stage and said to all women present there, ‘we are discussing such grave issue of women’s deprivation and torment by men and this young lady thinks her nail polish is more important than all our issues. Such women actually are responsible for our plight’. All women present said, ‘shame…shame…’ The girl remained unmoved; kept polishing her nails. She went up to the mike and said, ‘your problems are yours, I do not have any, you consider the men as such big demons but I make them dance on the tip of my small finger’. She stepped down from the dais rocking her ass”.
“So you mean to say that I should also walk confidently swaying my ass! Hell on you...already so many people are wanting a piece of my troubled ass and if I start swinging it, how many hell will break loose on me on daily basis?”, the editor replied laughingly.
The general manager looked irritated but he chose not to say anything. The editor was making indirect remarks on him and he was shocked that the sales head had clearly shifted his loyalties to his rival. The sales head had apparently chosen the lesser devil to square up with the lord of devils. The editor could sense the support and he was elated at his possible smooth sail when he would confront the Boss, though he had not completely dropped his guard against the sales head.
The marketing head pointed out, looking at his wristwatch that they were getting late for the proposed post-lunch meeting with the Boss. The general manager asked them all to end the meeting and move to the hotel. The editor was however enjoying the irritation of the general manager and wished to indulge more.
“General Manager Saheb, a few minutes back Pandey Ji has told you that the torso of your newspaper is emaciated. You don’t pay enough; don’t even allow enough leaves to sleep well, at least make mandatory provision for coffee and sandwiches in such important meetings like this. What did the Boss say...? Yes, work efficiency and quality management...! Huh...empty stomach deputed as security guard for chicken biryani...! Pandey Ji, this work efficiency thing is not for me...even my great grandpa would not venture into it...you better call Marco Polo...you said it quite right, I am going to offer my resignation to Boss and will go home with whatever is left of my devastated ass. The number of attacks my ass has survived is more than the attacks India faced from Mohammad Ghauri to Lord Curzon.”
“Subhanallah...! What great knowledge of history! Editor Saheb, you must have been the topper of you school in your tenth grade exam?”
“Huh...I would not have been in this thankless job of a baniya had I been the topper.”
The general manager had no option but to order chicken sandwiches and coffee.
The Boss was on his couch and sipping black tea when the attendant ushered in the four. The sales head was the most vocal of the four and least timid when with the Boss and that is why he was not afraid of sitting on the nearest sofa of the Boss’s couch.
“What you like to drink in day time Editor Saheb”, the Boss broke the silence.
“Nothing...I do not drink at day time...only late evening.”
“No..no, you took me wrong, I meant to say tea or coffee”, the Boss said smiling, “but anyway, people say you even enjoy whisky at day time?”
“In winter, when you exhale, smoke like thing comes out of your mouth but it does not mean you have fire burning in your stomach. The myopic vision sees demon in the cloud. I doubt; the global warming is more the result of the heat of jealousy that has gone up manifold in recent years.”
“Is the room temperature here okay with you or should I ask the attendant to pep up the air-conditioner knob”, the Boss asked, smiling.
The editor understood there was no sense stretching the issue. He simply returned the smile. First time in hours, the general manager also did manage a grin.
As the coffee was served, all four waited for the Boss to start the conversation. Nobody wished to take the lead and face the first ire of the Boss.
“At the very outset, I want to make a few things very clear. Our media house is not part of a group of industries. We are not running this newspaper as a shield or pride for other sister concerns. You all know, we are only into media. It is why we have to be fitter and smarter to survive. Our profit motive has to be more aggressive than some other media houses. Our survival and growth depends on our profits alone as we do not have profits from other verticals to feed the newspaper. Now, life is tougher for us as we have twin swords hanging from both back and front. On the front, we have public to answer to as we have taken huge moneys from share market. On the back are our international partners as we have also availed foreign direct investment (FDI). We cannot take profitability casually. Twenty years back, when I joined my father in this business, profit was as unpredictable as monsoon but my father would sleep well. I cannot, though I can control profits better. But, this is how things are; we all have to breathe whatever the reality of ambient air is. However, this does not mean that profit is all that we should care. We sell a product which has social utility; we have an emotional connect with our customers. Profitability does not mean that we compromise on quality, especially the human quality. The excellence is not only confined to profit maximization; it is a way of seeing work as a commitment towards overall satisfaction. Am I making myself amply clear?”
There was complete silence. All four were too apprehensive to say anything. Anyway, they were not sure to whom the Boss directed his words and what exactly he wanted. Not that his sincerity was above doubt.
Bad habit like an itch has its own inherent pleasure. The hierarchy system in work models has created such safe havens where any non-performing and stupid employee can breathe easy. One can pass the blame either on the boss or on the subordinates. Hierarchy ensures, success is nobody’s sole prerogative and failure is nobody’s individual problem. The public sector knows it better than private sector but, along the vast sea of private sector, there are beautiful beaches of hierarchical non-performance where all people, from a clerk to CEO enjoy the blue comfort.
Nobody wants initiative in business as it will not only mean extra work, but worse than that, the added trouble of the hierarchy. One’s work in any stage of the hierarchy means added share for all. The top people would never bother to take initiative because of the pain involved in taking along all his subordinates to be involved in this initiative. The hierarchy desiderates it. Even most competent and hard working top management guy would shiver at the idea of carrying the entire hierarchy on his own shoulders. That is why, top people devise such work patterns which either individualizes excellence or skips hierarchy problems. There are magician CEOs in industry who get astronomical pays for their individual excellence but if they are asked to ensure that their excellence gets broad-based, that is; the same excellence is reflected in the subordinate hierarchy, they will either quit or fail. The Boss knew it quite well that all four of his top and mid management guys were smart operators in their individual capacities but extremely poor as team people. None of the four had ever taken any initiative or interest in subordinate building. The Boss knew; he had a difficult task at hand. He knew it; the four were never going to be a team for achieving a collective goal, as they believed more on balance of power politics than the power of the balance.
The sales head would always be the one to break the silence.
“We do understand that we are facing difficult times. I have read that corporate biggies are slashing their advertising spends and GM sahib was telling us that our advertising revenue has fallen by 35 per cent because of the economic slowdown. This throws a challenge for all of us to put in place new structures for ensuring higher work efficiency and excellence; that too quickly after ascertaining the procedural or other bottlenecks.”
“Pandey Ji, please leave the task of mouthing the management jargon to some CEO of some big FMCG corporation. You better stick to your Marco Polo intelligence. It suits us better. What would Marco Polo say in these situations?”
“Blessed be his soul in heaven. Better, he died before the liberalization era and the globalization pains otherwise he could not even move out of his country...! Visas are so difficult today. Anyway he would have been detained by FBI at some American airport.”
“And what would he say about our newspaper?”
“This is what I was telling Editor Saheb in the meeting we had just before we came here. Newspaper is not only about first and last pages. Somehow, we have not been successful in having good content in inside pages. The fizz is missing in our soft drink bottle; though like the rival, our bottle is also full and same size, same price too.”
“Editor Saheb does not drink soft drinks, he likes whisky and it has zing, no fizz”, the owner made a remark to hit the chord with the editor.
“It has the fizz...I do not take whisky with water like Pandey Ji, I take it with soda.”
“Okay, Pandey Ji, if you are made the editor, what would you do to improve the content of newspaper in these inside pages”, the Boss asked.
“Sir, one can change his bed, it is easy, but one cannot change his bed partner, however dissatisfied one is from both his life and wife”, the editor intervened before the sales head could speak.
“Editor Saheb, nobody is going to change even your bed sheet, let alone bed and bed partner. I am not a content person anyway. Whatever I said about the newspaper content is not even as a sales person but as a reader. As a reader I get bored. I may not complain but younger readers do want freshness and fizz in the content.”
“It is only natural, everybody is. Are you not bored seeing the same wife every day and eating the same dishes she makes, even when as a simple onlooker, I rate her most beautiful woman after Meena Kumari and Madhubala”, the editor said.
“Editor Saheb, no personal comments here, we are discussing newspaper. Please stick to basic things. Consider this as a valid complaint. What do you think is the reason about dull mid pages?”
“I beg to differ. I do not think the complaint is valid. Editorial business is like digging up a well daily to quench your thirst. The content quality cannot be expect