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Authors: P. G. Bhaskar
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totally engrossed in something, it can happen. Andy and the girl rose as if a bomb had exploded under them. For a brief moment, they seemed to rest in midair, like a couple of levitating, embracing yogis. Then they came crashing down.
There was a stunned silence. It hadn’t occurred to us that we had been making far more of a ruckus than was appropriate after midnight in an apartment with a sleeping child. We stared at the kid. The kid stared back. ‘Too many noise,’ she repeated. Then, replacing her thumb in her mouth, she walked back to her room, with Galiya jogging after her. The rest of us tried hard not to make the sound of a dozen adults doubling up with laughter.
The heady success of the chairman’s do lasted several days. In the aftermath of the glow, we sauntered around like my former colleague Philippe used to do at Myers. Philippe was then the top revenue producer there and he spent most of his time sitting in his office with his feet up on the table and a wireless device stuck to his ear. When he did swagger around the office, the others hurriedly got out his way for fear of being snubbed or barked at.
Now it was our time under the sun. Peggy showed us an email that had been sent to the various heads of departments. It contained a stern rebuke from Fergs for failing to bring in the required number of clients and compared them unfavourably with us. Peggy got promoted to the mancom, the revered and greatly feared management committee, an all powerful body that could make or break ideas, products and careers.
Peggy couldn’t believe that an issue as ridiculous as this had catapulted her into the limelight. I knew she had never felt too comfortable in this new setup, where office work consisted predominantly of a series of meetings, almost all of them with colleagues. Clients were rarely met by senior employees. Indeed, the heads seemed to shy away from clients, neighing like a frightened horse and running for cover if a client so much as approached them. They were very uncomfortable with clients, especially if there was a chance that they may have a grouse. They kept proudly busy with internal back-to-back meetings. That was their zone of comfort and they liked staying there. Of course, when a client offered his yacht to the senior management of the bank for a weekend or put their families up at his resort complete with booze, food and spa, they lapped it up. But they drew a clear line at meeting a client face to face or listening to his ire. That was left for the minions, the officers and front office soldiers. That’s what they were paid for.
If there were more than two participants at a meeting, they were referred to as ‘conferences’. Poor Peggy had to spend a good four to five hours a day on these. ‘I have never attended such unproductive meetings,’ she told us. ‘Many of the decisions made at these hour long meetings could just as easily be made over a quick phone call or a couple of sensible emails. Sometimes no decisions are made at all. It kills me.’
Nevertheless, the meetings continued and, if nothing else, it gave the secretaries of the heads a sense of importance. They took immense pleasure in informing callers that their calls could not be returned by their boss as he or she would be in a series of meetings all day.
While nothing much changed at the grassroots level or in the well-enmeshed bureaucracy across departments, our considerably better standing with CEO Fergs helped us win approval for four more private bankers to join. They were in place in a few days, which goes to show how easy it was to cut through red tape once the CEO had signed off on a document. The entire circus at AbAd revolved around pleasing the CEO. So there we were, more than twice our strength almost overnight. Who would have thought that a seemingly small matter of getting together a few guys for the chairman’s event would yield such positive results? The new members of the team were Rachel, Harry,
There was a stunned silence. It hadn’t occurred to us that we had been making far more of a ruckus than was appropriate after midnight in an apartment with a sleeping child. We stared at the kid. The kid stared back. ‘Too many noise,’ she repeated. Then, replacing her thumb in her mouth, she walked back to her room, with Galiya jogging after her. The rest of us tried hard not to make the sound of a dozen adults doubling up with laughter.
The heady success of the chairman’s do lasted several days. In the aftermath of the glow, we sauntered around like my former colleague Philippe used to do at Myers. Philippe was then the top revenue producer there and he spent most of his time sitting in his office with his feet up on the table and a wireless device stuck to his ear. When he did swagger around the office, the others hurriedly got out his way for fear of being snubbed or barked at.
Now it was our time under the sun. Peggy showed us an email that had been sent to the various heads of departments. It contained a stern rebuke from Fergs for failing to bring in the required number of clients and compared them unfavourably with us. Peggy got promoted to the mancom, the revered and greatly feared management committee, an all powerful body that could make or break ideas, products and careers.
Peggy couldn’t believe that an issue as ridiculous as this had catapulted her into the limelight. I knew she had never felt too comfortable in this new setup, where office work consisted predominantly of a series of meetings, almost all of them with colleagues. Clients were rarely met by senior employees. Indeed, the heads seemed to shy away from clients, neighing like a frightened horse and running for cover if a client so much as approached them. They were very uncomfortable with clients, especially if there was a chance that they may have a grouse. They kept proudly busy with internal back-to-back meetings. That was their zone of comfort and they liked staying there. Of course, when a client offered his yacht to the senior management of the bank for a weekend or put their families up at his resort complete with booze, food and spa, they lapped it up. But they drew a clear line at meeting a client face to face or listening to his ire. That was left for the minions, the officers and front office soldiers. That’s what they were paid for.
If there were more than two participants at a meeting, they were referred to as ‘conferences’. Poor Peggy had to spend a good four to five hours a day on these. ‘I have never attended such unproductive meetings,’ she told us. ‘Many of the decisions made at these hour long meetings could just as easily be made over a quick phone call or a couple of sensible emails. Sometimes no decisions are made at all. It kills me.’
Nevertheless, the meetings continued and, if nothing else, it gave the secretaries of the heads a sense of importance. They took immense pleasure in informing callers that their calls could not be returned by their boss as he or she would be in a series of meetings all day.
While nothing much changed at the grassroots level or in the well-enmeshed bureaucracy across departments, our considerably better standing with CEO Fergs helped us win approval for four more private bankers to join. They were in place in a few days, which goes to show how easy it was to cut through red tape once the CEO had signed off on a document. The entire circus at AbAd revolved around pleasing the CEO. So there we were, more than twice our strength almost overnight. Who would have thought that a seemingly small matter of getting together a few guys for the chairman’s event would yield such positive results? The new members of the team were Rachel, Harry,
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