It's 2.30 pm in a corporate office of a conglomerate. It's the month of July somewhere in mid 90s and dark clouds were ominously hovering over the murky horizon. A year has swiftly flown by in the big bad world and the Management trainees are kind of settling down. Today, we find ourselves in a swanky conference room of the Group President for the Quarterly Sales Review. Not a day one really looks forward to.
On the top of the table are the big guns - our boss's boss and Top Man Mr. Ranade - a thin man with a curling mustache and piercing eyes. Next to him is the Big Man, Mr. Mukherjee - who's at the top of the totem pole - a short tubby man nattily dressed up. Imagine a bulldog wearing a suit. Both the top man and the big man has the unhappy ability to scare the daylights out of all living things - the prime prerequisite of being in the top management.
Neither of them are smiling as Mr. Chatterjee, the marketing chief who is our boss and the center of our universe walks in with the logistics head, Mr. Chaturvedi in tow. The sales targets have not been met as usual and this time Boss has decided that he's not going down alone. He's bought the entire marketing department along as cannon fodder.
The Management Trainees look very pale. Lee is biting his nails, Ashwini is all glassy eyed with terror and I can feel my knees wobble. Imagine goats being led for a slaughter. We try to look invisible and grab seats as far as possible from the big boys. Octavia, our boss's secretary is the only one looking nice and smug and pleased, crouched over her notepad and can't wait for the fun to begin.
The first strike is quite early in the day. Our dear boss is presenting the sales figures. The first slide is up showing planned vs. actual figures and action plan. Our boss is in full form and blazing like a Juggernaut. Just as the slide is going to get flipped, Mr. Mukherjee, our boss's boss's boss barks "JUST HOLD ON". He stares at the slide in rapt attention. We all follow his eyes anxiously and stare at the slide.
After 2 minutes, all hell breaks loose.
Mr. Mukherjee glares at our boss and yells "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS NONSENSE, CHATTERJEE - THIS IS THE SAME SLIDE YOU SHOWED SIX MONTHS BACK ! The juggernaut has been stopped in it's tracks. Our Boss goes beetroot and gawks at the slide unhappily. We all gawk at the slide unhappily, not daring to breathe.
Our boss's gaze slowly shifts to Octavia, his secretary and shorthand expert who suddenly doesn't look so happy anymore. After all, she's the one responsible for the collating the presentation. The Boss's murderous look has the unmistakable "Baahar aa, dekhta hoon tereko" written all over it. Octavia looks ready to burst into tears. The Top Man and the Big Man are by now openly jeering our poor boss, who has started sweating buckets. The management trainees are staring at him and secretly hoping for a coronary so that the meeting would end and we could all go home. The rest of the marketing team looks on nervously.
The meeting continues. It's a massacre. An hour passes. Then another. Mr. Mukherjee, the big man is in full flow, raving and ranting at the departmental incompetence. He shouts with thinly veiled contempt "VERY POOR PERFORMANCE. THIS YOUNG GENERATION HAS NO COMMITMENT AT ALL". All of us look suitably ashamed of ourselves.
Then the big man's eyes wander angrily across the room and finally rests on Jeetu, one of the more laid back guys in the domestic appliances department. At the moment, dear Jeetu is surreptitiously trying to catch up on his afternoon nap while Rome is burning. Mr. Mukherjee yells at him. "YOU THERE, YEAH YOU..WHAT'S YOUR SALARY"?? Jeetu wakes up with a start and gawps at him, his face going an unhealthy ash white. Imagine being hauled out of your breakfast table by your collar and flung across a cliff head first, porridge, cutlery, napkins and all. Words refuse to come out as Jeetu starts stuttering. I can feel my throat going dry with panic and sweat trickles down my neck. I am sitting in ground zero, right next to Jeetu.
Then the big man then turns to our boss "CHATTERJEE, THIS YOUNG MAN MUST BE DRAWING WHAT, 5000 RUPEES?. BUT DOES HE DO ANY WORK WORTH 5000 RUPEES"? Everyone looks at Jeetu suspiciously. The poor chap clamps up. He draws something like 25 Grand but he isn't about to volunteer that information.
The big man is just about warming up. He glares at Jeetu and shouts at our boss "CHATTERJEE, I BET THIS FELLOW GOES HOME EARLY EVERYDAY !!! HE MUST WORK AT LEAST 18 HOURS A DAY". All the big boys nods their heads vigorously and glares at Jeetu convinced they know a laggard when they saw one. It doesn't help that Jeetu looks guiltier than a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
The next day, the sun is out in the skies as usual. Over a cup of tea, the management trainees heave a sigh of relief for having survived the meeting. However, the best is yet to come. The minutes of the meeting have been typed manually by the can't-wait-to-please-boss Octavia and action points are circulated.
The minutes of the meeting are floating all over the place, and soon has the floor reverberating with laughter. Though at least one person in the department is in a state of shock and gloom.
Because, a particular action item in the minutes of the meeting tells it's own tale. Among other things, typed in bold letters in point no. 10 - "JEETU TO WORK 18 HOURS A DAY" !!
The minutes of the meeting are floating all over the place, and soon has the floor reverberating with laughter. Though at least one person in the department is in a state of shock and gloom.
Because, a particular action item in the minutes of the meeting tells it's own tale. Among other things, typed in bold letters in point no. 10 - "JEETU TO WORK 18 HOURS A DAY" !!
Finally, something productive has come out of the meeting :)
