tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78217086465886358232024-03-12T18:24:00.527-07:00Blog of Simple SimonMacabre musings on Corpocracy and Socio-Cultural-Economic trendsSenantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-73266812740892592352012-06-19T11:48:00.000-07:002012-06-19T11:56:52.803-07:00Demystifying Delegation and other Cosmic Elements of High Maturity Organisations<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There are days of awakening, when one suddenly discovers cosmic wisdom in his immediate surroundings. A gratifying moment when the soul’s eye is yanked open and comprehension of the universe floods in, making up for the lost time.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today was one such day – when in the much frustrating, much maligned corporate set up in which I move to and fro like the trapped goldfish of modern times, I discovered sophistication that akin to cosmic connection from the most basic to the most profound, the rhythm of operations across multiple levels, the unifying tune in the long chain of command. Indeed, the word ‘cosmic’ actually cropped into it.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>High Maturity played out in the Low Lands</b></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">According to industry-wide Bodies of Knowledge (BOKs), be it Project Management Institute, Capability Maturity Models, Prince 2 or any such re-canned, rehashed, re-bottled pile of platitudes; to achieve organisational maturity the first requirement is similarity across the outfit. It is of primary importance for the processes and behaviours to be standardised at the organisational level. All the members of the organisation should speak the same language, however inane.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Only when every individual acts according to principles that have been ingrained into their psyche and philosophy can a department or a unit claim to be performing at a reasonably high level of maturity, which in turn is supposedly the stepping stone towards predictability, optimised performance and such phrases that hover in the fuzzy zone between feasibility and farce. In some ways, the concept of high maturity organisations is almost philosophical. The focus is on the way or path rather than the individual heroism, the duality of self and other vanishing into a vortex of processes and jargon, which some uncharitable souls – including me – has been hitherto guilty of calling a quagmire of mediocrity mixed with greed. </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Replace jargon with mantra and profitability with liberation and you have got yourself a brand new philosophy to market.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">However, it was just today that I discovered this genius of uniformity of thought, the resonance of methods, that had always been present around me, undeciphered by my ignorant eyes that could never look beyond the blatant banality.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>The Task</b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white;">I was the messenger of the great Ramesh, Vice President of the European Operations of <i>Axiom Consulting. </i>In one of the several hundred sessions that we keep attending under the various synonyms of organised boot-licking– Power Lunch, Town Hall, Voice of Vision, Open House, Coffee with Concepts - I have tended to meet the great man too often. It may be that my three fold surname crops up in random automated searches for sacrificial employees, or perhaps it is a senior management initiative to make such contact programs cosmopolitan – I somehow happen to land up in more than my share of these exclusive events</span><span style="background-color: white;">.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">During the last such occasion, the entrepreneur had called me aside and said, “Simon, you know this is a hard time. With all the regulations coming up, HMH will be surely curtailing cost by stopping some of the on-going projects – maybe a lot of them. It is vital importance that we are prepared. I need some insights into the Forecast Brief of Dave de Boer.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now, the Forecast Brief of Dave de Boer, the CEO of HMH Bank, is one of the most closely guarded secrets in entire Netherlands. Getting insights into it, which essentially meant looking at its contents, could have been classified as one of the thus far unattainable goals of mankind – running the 100 metres under 9.5 seconds, solving Zeno’s paradox, reading about the latest exploit of Paris Hilton without wanting to strangle her and so on … When I said as much to Ramesh, he nodded and turned sombre. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Simon, I have to give some answers to the Board Members .I can’t tell them that it is impossible. Pass my message to Ajay Yadav. He has to find a way. It’s his account, after all.”</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Chain Reaction</b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, I took the request – or was it an order – to the Account Manager Ajay Yadav. Characteristically, he looked at me as if I had come to confirm that the end of the world was at six fifty seven in the evening – and that was even before I passed the message. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When he heard me, I had expected him to clutch his heart and collapse on the spot, but my eyes were already in the process of being opened. After several furtive glances in all directions, ensuring that no bolt from the blue was on its way to whisk away the box which bore his name in the organisation chart, this unsung and unappreciated man gave an indication that he was made of sterner stuff than we gave him credit for. He picked up his phone and called his immediate subordinate, Janardan.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The thickset man huffed and puffed his way into the office and greeted us cheerfully.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Janardan,” Ajay began matter of factly. “We need some information as soon as possible.”</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Of course,” zeal and commitment gushed out of the manager’s response.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“We need some insights into the Forecast Brief of Dave de Boer,” Ajay said in the same tone he would have used to ask him to get some coffee from Albert-Heijn.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Janardan’s smile stuck to his face, but the boiling zeal on which it floated was suddenly switched off, and the jovial expression floated uncertainly on the ephemeral bubbles of hope that Ajay had cracked a joke. However, when the chuckle of confirmation did not come, the texture of the smile changed to bafflement.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“But, that is top secret.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Yes, I know,” admitted Ajay, nodding with sympathy. “But, it is needed at the VP level. You have some of your people working with some of Dave’s people. You have to get some insights.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Janardan’s proactiveness was not that easily kick-started when the task at hand was confirmed to be next to impossible.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“But, it is impossible …”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ajay nodded and pursed his lips. “I understand it’s not easy, but as I said, the request has come from the VP level, and that in turn has probably come from the Board of Directors. I can’t really tell Ramesh that it is impossible. We have to give him something.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Janardan continued to rebel in his mind, but his heavily conditioned neck went through the motion of nodding. I wonder it follows the same principles we hear of the brain continuing to react and body continuing to jump after decapitation.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ajay thus climbed a small rung </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">in my esteem </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">from the perpetual pits when he managed to crack his countenance of fidgety fear with the hint of a smile.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“And Janardan, take Simon with you. Keep him in the loop of all that happens in this regard.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, I walked out with Janardan and he muttered and mumbled about the unreasonableness of demand, with a hesitant tone that acted as a sort of disclaimer against his protests. After all, he was still a devoted <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Axiom Consulting </i>employee and I was, for all intents and purposes, a managerial mole.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">However, I had to be kept in the loop, and so he took me along as he stepped into Ankit’s cubicle. The assistant manager, who was just getting back into his working groove from one of the <a href="http://senantixsimon.blogspot.nl/2012/06/smoking-hot-thought-leadership.html" target="_blank">knowledge dissemination and thought leadership smoking sessions</a>, looked up and welcomed him with a frown of industriousness. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“I have been working on the Lean Value proposal, but there are a few confusing parts – I would like to discuss with you …,” he began on seeing his immediate supervisor, the lips straining to get around Janardan's ample behind, but the stocky man cut him short. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Ankit, priorities have changed. Take up this new assignment A-S-A-P,” he actually spelt the acronym. “We urgently require insights into Forecast Brief of Dave de Boer.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ankit’s frown changed from industrious to quizzical.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Dave de Boer’s Forecast Brief? But that’s out of bounds.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Janardan waved aside unwanted squeamishness with an impatient gesture.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Ankit, it has come from Ajay and he has got this from Ramesh. When Ajay asks me, I can’t say it is out of bounds.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“But …”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“There are so many of your people working with Dave’s men. Be innovative – I am sure you will manage something. And keep Simon in the loop for all communication in this regard.”</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Janardan patted me to emphasise the last point, the gesture subtly positioning me strategically in the cubicle. As he huffed and puffed his way back towards his own cubicle, Ankit’s frown changed, now from the quizzical to the irritated.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He eyed me with some reservation. Perhaps he was not too keen to trust a curious creature <a href="http://senantixsimon.blogspot.nl/2012/06/smoking-hot-thought-leadership.html" target="_blank">who claimed to think and did not smoke</a>.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Difficult task?” I asked.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He thought a while and shook his head. “Not difficult. But, getting senior management information from the heads of the Bank should be handled by our senior management. I am just an assistant manager, am I not? I know I am the only one capable of getting this done, working miracles and that sort of thing ... but then my designation needs to change too. You can get me to do all sorts of difficult tasks, but I have to be rewarded and recognised.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He paused and kept looking at me. It was later that Jaydev clarified that such a pause opens channels for sympathetic concurrence. However, I was uninitiated in the mysterious ways, and the claim had to make do without my certification. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Okay, let’s get a move on,” Ankit got up from his seat. “We have to get the information.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I followed him, eager to see a master at work, walking assiduously, thinking on his feet. The problem I had termed unsolvable was about to be demystified. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Our march ended across a bend in the office floor, twenty metres from our starting point. Ankit knocked </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">extra hard </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">on the panel of the cubicle and a startled Jaydev looked up to see a frown, now having metamorphosed into one of severe authority.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Hi Ankit.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The middle manager grunted in response.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Jaydev, stop whatever you are doing …”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“I am working on the Lean Value proposal which you sort of said was the most important thing since the fall of the Berlin Wall …,” the slightly perplexed footsoldier began.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Berlin?” Ankit ‘s frown flitted back to the quizzical before resuming the authoritarian form with renewed vigour. “Leave the Lean Value aside for now. Something more important has come up.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“We live in interesting times indeed. Two consecutive items on the agenda each more important than the fall of the Berlin Wall. And Francis Fukuyama had claimed it was the end of history …”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Francis? Francis van Halen? The Payments guy?”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Not important. Surely nothing as remotely important as the Berlin Wall or the Lean Value proposal. What do you want me to do now?”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ankit nodded. “We want insights into Forecast Brief of Dave de Boer. We had a long discussion about this, and I suggested your name for the job as the right person.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Jaydev raised his eyebrows. “You do realise that it is classified, right? STG. Zeer Geheim. Cosmic Top Secret as per NATO.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ankit struggled with the slick illusions, and decided to follow the standard organisational process.</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rlT9v03zafQ/T-DJKRF9bBI/AAAAAAAAKSI/0uDvpb3v1GU/s1600/big+shoes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rlT9v03zafQ/T-DJKRF9bBI/AAAAAAAAKSI/0uDvpb3v1GU/s1600/big+shoes.JPG" /></a><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Jaydev, you have to look at the big picture. It is a requirement that has come right from Ramesh, down to Ajay. Now if Janardan, Ajay, or Ramesh ask me, I can’t say it is a NATO Cosmonaut secret.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I fought like a tiger against my dangerous instincts and managed to keep my eyes from meeting Jaydev’s.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Take the guys from Dave's team you work with for a drink, for lunch … and try to get some insights. Think out of the box. It is challenging, but we have to do it. And remember, this is high visibility, and if we succeed …”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Jaydev got up and saluted. “Yes, sir. I will get onto it.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"I want something by EOD today," Ankit turned to go, but I stopped him.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Er Ankit, you forgot the bit about keeping me in loop.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ankit frowned with an unstated apology. “That’s a very good point Simon. Of course, I would have forwarded everything to you, but Jaydev can do it himself.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Aye aye, sir,” Jaydev watched him leave with considerable relief and smiled at me. “Creative challenge. Who says our work is clerical?”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Something was bugging me.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Er, Jaydev, there is no one reporting to you, right?”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Jaydev shook his head. “I am at the extreme end of the big picture, sometimes I have to strain to get past the frame.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I sat down. “That’s heartening to know. So there won’t be another walk down to another cubicle and another delegation.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Jaydev nodded.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Right. This is where the shovel is handed down. Now the crap will be scooped all the way up.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“It is really incredible how the different levels of the organisation think in the same way,” I observed after we had revisited the trail of singularly similar designation. </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"I am sorry, but where exactly did thinking come into this?"</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Okay, sorry. They </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">act in the same way. I don't think the BOKs are too concerned with thinking anyway. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Signs of a very mature unit. But, how will you manage the impossible?”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Jaydev smiled. “I will think out of the box, as advised by our thought-leader. None of the Dutchmen will ever tell me anything about the Forecast Brief. So, I will make up something, and like astrologers will make it vague enough to be true for any incident, from Lean Value to Berlin Wall. 'Budget pot for realigning the cross functional synergies'. How does that sound for starters?”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“And that will be acceptable?”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“No. It will be sent back a half a dozen times along the same chain of command as vague and unclear, and if you follow the review comments that grow like snowball, you will realise all the more that the organisation thinks similarly at all levels. But, after three or four rewrites, there won’t be a choice. By that time power point will have worked its magic and transformed excrement to strategy.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“And we will follow that strategy when the time comes?”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“We will do whatever our jerky knees and frenzied guts tell us to do. Later we can always map that to this strategy to make it a success story of proactive thought. We may even pen books on managing uncertainty, the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Axiom</i> way.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I sighed.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Yes, proactive thought leadership making us immune to the market changes. Only a highly mature organisation can achieve that.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Jaydev agreed. “Amen to that.”</span></div>
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<br /></div>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-53773369488131869712012-06-07T06:17:00.000-07:002012-06-07T09:21:57.525-07:00Smoking hot thought leadership<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Holy Smoke</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">As I approached the office building, friendly hands variously greeted and beckoned me to the corner where half a dozen of my Indian colleagues stood smoking. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">My European brethren smoke profusely, using the celebrated laid back continental culture to wake up ever-so-slowly to the perils of nicotine. In Holland, such awakening often result in switching allegiance to cannabis. And as in any shared passion, the more menacing the merrier, simultaneously lighted death sticks often make for casual camaraderie.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OfIEQdpJBIw/T9CpUlPKmuI/AAAAAAAAKRk/ZIHGV-FJPAs/s1600/smoke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fba="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OfIEQdpJBIw/T9CpUlPKmuI/AAAAAAAAKRk/ZIHGV-FJPAs/s1600/smoke.jpg" /></a><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">But, my Indian colleagues have taken the art of destroying one’s lungs to the realms of a community ritual. They convene around conflagrant cigarettes in hordes, several times a day, twice an hour is not too optimistic an estimate. The most important members of their ilk ride down the elevator and emerge outside as mighty leaders, shrugging off their own subservient client-facing selves in the recesses of the work place. A number of junior workers tag along, join the ceremony, some even if they do not smoke. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“Lots of interactions and knowledge sharing take place in the smoking zone,” Ankit, the assistant manager, had explained to me – leading me to wonder whether there was a humorous strain under the ultra-serious exterior. “You should join us once in a while.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Till today I had deprived myself of this marvel of teamwork, citing my sensitivity to smoke. “This smoke does not reach our lungs” Ankit had reassured. “It just stimulates the roots of our thoughts.” </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Jaydev, a fresh faced recruit two years out of college had taken me aside a couple of days earlier and explained some of the intricacies of the smoking breaks. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“Ankit lighting a cigarette is like the Piper of Hamlyn blowing into his instrument. The rats follow … Some think it is time out from the rat-race, but actually it is like the pit stop of the racing car. Our tires are aligned to the vision of the leader. Lubricants flow relentlessly. I call them the alignment sessions. If you pay attention, you can hear me herding others out when the leader decides to smoke saying, ‘Come on folks, let’s get aligned’.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“So it is a case of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no smoke without 'fired'</i>?”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“Absolutely. Especially in this market. But there are other considerations as well. Appreciation, allegiance, silent nudges and hints about appraisal and promotion. Again, the main purpose is to be aligned to Ankit’s vision.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">My confusion had persisted. “So, Ankit talks about the company vision?”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Jaydev had nodded, “He is an Assistant Manager – that makes him one of the thought leaders. He leads by telling us what he thinks – about more or less everything in the world.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“And you listen?”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“As I said, we align ourselves to the thoughts. Our opinions are always tuned to the vision of our thought leader. You should join us once in a while …”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">I had repeated my concern about my lungs …</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“Pick a windy day and stand upwind. The next few days are especially interesting.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“Windy?”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“No. Ankit has expended all his thoughts about the Dutch rental laws he had been so vocal about till a week back ... because his landlord has agreed to repair a leak. You may still hear him expounding about his exemplary man management skills that ensured this miracle, but chances are remote. If you are into gadgets, now is the time to attend a few smoking sessions.”</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">The Gadgeted Manager</span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“I am not particularly into gadgets …,” I had begun.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Jaydev had shushed me. “That’s about as non-aligned as you can get. You see, the company believes that the world is moving into a hand-held age. Upgrade or die. The vision of the management is for every Manager to communicate and keep abreast of projects, clients, opportunities, business trends and that sort of thing through blackberries, podcasts and the rest of it. According to the metrics of the grapevine, the number of tweets from Senior Managers have just overtaken the total number of times ‘proactiveness’ was mentioned in last year-end review.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“Very forward thinking I must say.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“As far as the tweets are concerned, they are more about ‘forward’ than ‘thinking’.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“That’s what you discuss nowadays? Gadgets?”</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-enLXY4Sf7yQ/T9Cpc8kovxI/AAAAAAAAKRs/7S5wDKD7qpo/s1600/blackberrymarlboro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" fba="true" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-enLXY4Sf7yQ/T9Cpc8kovxI/AAAAAAAAKRs/7S5wDKD7qpo/s200/blackberrymarlboro.jpg" width="200" /></a><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“Ankit discusses. We align ourselves to his wisdom. Right now he is very excited about the Blackberry he purchased recently.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">This had confused me.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“But, aren’t Blackberries handed out to Managers for free?”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Jaydev had nodded. “There. You have put your finger on the snag. Blackberry is indeed the current day fruit of labour. But the problem is that the handsets are given to the grades of Manager and above. Ankit is still only an Assistant Manager, and anyone who has come in contact with his waves of thought leadership will know that he craves a promotion. He dreams about it more than Martin Luther King ever did. He could not really wait any longer. He was too eager to see the ‘Sent from my Blackberry’ line under his emails. Apparently, adding the same while sending a mail from the laptop does not work. People tend to find out. So, he bought one for himself. Perhaps it will go down as an argument for being ready for the next level.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“Men and their toys.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“More than that, Simon. You see, in the seventies and eighties, there was considerable amount of social prestige associated with a gazetted officer. This was a highly ranked public servant, who could stamp documents and photocopies and attest them for lesser mortals. In the nineties we entered the open market and such social norms went for a toss. Industries were privatised and the public servants remained powerful in their own way, but their esteem was dwarfed by employees of private companies who earned much more. At long last, the system has reached an equilibrium at the other end. From gazetted officers, the cornerstone of social status has shifted to the gadgeted managers.”</span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Thoughts go up in smoke</span></b></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Indeed, as hands now waved at me, I could see the fist of Ankit, proudly clutching the flat, black handheld device for me and the rest of the world to see. Jaydev’s curious socio-linguistic explanation seemed to make a lot of sense.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">The invitation in Ankit’s manager-in-waiting eyes was somewhat difficult to refuse even at the peril of putting healthy lungs through six simultaneous draughts of exhaled smoke.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“Simon,” the thought leader exclaimed eagerly, eyes shining at the sight of an approaching receptacle for his ideas and opinions. The hand continued to wave, and the Blackberry continued to totter on the brink of things, ready to be thrown into the conversation. I relented.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“Enjoying your time with the new baby?” I asked pointing.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“Of course,” Jaydev piped in from the side-line, where he had possibly aligned himself. “Everyone likes to play with his tool now.”</span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">I shot him a worried glance, but he was unfazed. With reason too, because the innuendo sailed harmlessly over Ankit, only fanning his fervour further.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“Of course. This is the way the world is heading. That’s what Ramesh himself said in the thought leadership meet last week,” at the mention of the hallowed name, a resonated rush of reverence shot through the gathering. “Gone are the days people had to open their machines to get their work done. It’s possible to work even in crowded trains. You know, Simon, I reviewed a full power point presentation on this – er – baby as I was coming to office in the Metro. A crowded Metro.”</span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">He paused and looked around, to soak the admiring gazes into his psyche. Around him everyone was well aligned to his thoughts and the resonance that rippled about in the rush of lubricants was of fascination. </span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">“Simon, you should consider getting one.”</span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Jaydev later told me that the proper answer according to well established protocol would have been, “Heh heh heh heh, Ankit, if I earned even half as much as you I would have got myself one …” and in ritualistic dance patterns the response would have been a half-pleased protest that his salary was not that great, and there were many earning more – undeserving ones who had been promoted before him because of reasons deeply political.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">However, the Dutchman uninitiated to such indigenous customs, I pursed my lips and said, “Well, I think I’ll pass. I generally read in the trains, and when it is crowded, I like to think.”</span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Obviously there was something amiss in my alignment. There was almost a resounding gasp as breaths were drawn in all at once. Ankit batted his eyelids for a few muted moments before rolling his eyes and exclaiming, ”Think? Where’s the time to think?”</span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">The modern day <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thought leader</i> shuddered at the idea and stubbed out his cigarette – signalling the end of the ceremony.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<br /></div>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-46733182599932709782012-06-03T03:38:00.001-07:002012-06-03T06:09:34.395-07:00Butterfly Effect in the Chaotic Corporate World<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XnZGfKTiD4k/T8s-QSiMmuI/AAAAAAAAKQ8/FgrMak5GN8s/s1600/butterfly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XnZGfKTiD4k/T8s-QSiMmuI/AAAAAAAAKQ8/FgrMak5GN8s/s200/butterfly.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">The derived
game of <i>Indian whisper</i>? Or was it <i>seriously sucking snowball?</i> Finally I zeroed
down on the chaotic ground reality of the global delivery model and called it
the <b>Corporate Butterfly Effect.</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Maarten Klassen,
Process Management Lead of HMH Bank IT, stopped me as I was on my way to my eight
hours of cubicular cerebral sloth. “Simon, you remember we had talked about the
Basics of Ethics training? The web based course one had to click one’s way to
completion?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I thought hard,
across gigabytes of such ridiculous and redundant compliance trainings. “You
mean the one you wanted to share with the offshore vendors some – what – eight months
back?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Maarten
smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, eight or nine months back, at that moment it was supposed
to be ASAP. Now people have forgotten why it was so important, but it still
sits on my todo list. You see, I went on vacation, and when I returned the
content designer went on vacation, and when she returned half the developers were reassigned to the top
priority portal, and one of them went to get married ... you know how it works. But, now it’s finally complete
and available online, and so could you dash it off to your company folks in
Bangalore and ask whoever is working on the HMH account to complete it within,
say, a couple of months or may be a quarter or, may be, six months ...?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><b>Chaos and the game of Indian Whisper</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><b><br /></b>That’s how
it started. You can perhaps say that working in <i>Axiom
Consulting </i>for a couple of years, I should have been prepared and mentally armed to
my teeth to withstand what followed, but then, as our company promises, it
continues to innovate and surprise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">After a
quick mail to Prakash at Bangalore providing the link to the training and the approximate
date for completion, I was blissfully tinkering with a spreadsheet with some
associated alt-tabs to get the latest on the Euro Cup, when a mail brandishing the
red exclamation mark of importance thudded into my Inbox. It is quite revealing
that importance has to be denoted by exclamation marks in this industry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Prakash had
responded with a deluge of questions, “Simon, what is this all about? What
sort of reports do we need to provide? What
is the SLA – two months or a quarter or six months? How are we to ensure that people
complete the training? Could we get into a call?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Having somehow managed to read the substance between
the interrogation marks, I wrote back, “Relax. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Not that important. Pass the
links and ask the folks to complete within two months. Leave the rest to them,
on trust. After all, trust and openness is all that we hear in corporate updates
nowadays. Delay of a few days won’t really matter, trust me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Within half
an hour, Prakash was stuttering in an edgy tone on the telephone, my handset almost
vibrating with his nervous twitches.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Ramya, the
Project Lead, wanted to know how we are to ensure that the people complete the compliance
trainings.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Did you
tell her about trusting people?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“She says
no one will complete unless we follow up and chase them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I sighed. “Then
go ahead and chase them, but believe me, it’s not that serious.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Is there a
tool that tells us how many have completed?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Er, not
that I know of ...”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Then can
we ask the client for specifications and database details so that we can create
an in-house tool? Ramya and her co-manager Srini want to know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“There you
go. Does one need to look further for<i> in-house tools</i>?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">He called
back after another half an hour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Ramya asks
if you can get into a conference call.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Why on
earth?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“She wants
to understand the requirements – what we need to send to the client.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“There is
nothing you need to send to the client. You need to complete the training and
that’s all there is to it. There are about 20 slides. Everyone needs to click
their way to the end, to the point where there is a pop up saying ‘Congratulations.
You have completed the Basic Ethics course.’ It will take five minutes for
each, at most.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Prakash’s
voice still crudely crisscrossed my eardrum with its edgy tension. “Ramya says
if people don’t do it, and the client asks for completion figures, we can get
into trouble, and the buck will come back to me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Why you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Because
you told me to ensure that it is done, and she doesn’t want to take ownership.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Jesus ...”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“She wants
to know what sort of reports of completion you want.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“I just
want to be left in peace.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Weekly
percentage figures ... or a dashboard showing
projections of next week ...”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Prakash,
this is almost an afterthought on the part of the client, and they may or may
not even be interested to know whether ...”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Simon,
Ramya has already talked to her boss, Narayanan, the Senior Manager, and the
two of them want a breakfast meeting with me tomorrow. It seems they are taking
it seriously. Tell me, is there any way that I can generate the completion
figures...”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Erm ...
Prakash, did I mention mountains and molehills?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Eh?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“ Believe
me, it is not high priority. And there is no way that I am getting into a call
over this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">The next
call was from Ramya herself. It was quite a surprise, since I was about to
leave office in Amsterdam while she seemed very much working her way to the middle
of a busy day at Bangalore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Simon, good
afternoon. I had a question.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Why am I
not surprised?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Can we get
into a call now?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“I am
confused. What exactly are we into now?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“I mean
Narayanan wanted to join, and as the local SME I would keep Prakash in the call
as well.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“SME? Are
you still talking about the compliance training?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Yes, and
Prakash is the only one who seems to know the specs.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Specs? We
are not talking about a project here, for God’s sake.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“We have opened
a new sub project in the Project Management System and allocated Prakash as the
lead. It is non-billable, but Narayanan wants a status report every week – and it
has to be shared with the client to show our weekly progress. As partners, we need
to project ourselves as sensitive to the client’s requirements”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Sensitive?
You are already more sensitive than an exposed dental nerve ...”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> “I am connecting Narayanan and Prakash as
well.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">As several
beeps announced the arrival of the waiting team members on the company sponsored conference
bridge, I put my fingers on the bridge of my own nose and squeezed hard, “Ramya,
this is not even a serious initiative. There is only one guy in the entire
client organisation who is interested in this because he has suddenly
discovered this on his to-do list, possibly from an archived action item list
and he will go on vacation again soon and
everything will be forgotten.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Narayanan’s
important disembodied voice floated in, out-decibling my protests. “In that
case you need to position yourself as the deputy to ensure this is completed –
you can be the onsite lead of us, the partner organisation.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Huh ...” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“As
partners, we need to take up whatever the customer thinks is important – even if
they don’t think of it as important, we need to coach them into seeing the value-adds.
That is the way we can build trust.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Trust?
That’s rich. A while back we were unable to trust our own people to complete
the training by themselves and now ... “<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">There was
an uncomfortable silence, before the Senior Manager demonstrated his exemplary thought-leadership.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“It is not
that we don’t trust them. We wanted to track the completions so that we can publish
lists of members as an appreciation of those who worked hard and completed the
course. And also, we can prepare dashboards to share the completion statistics
with the client and have these weekly calls in which we can discuss any issues
and risks and mitigation actions necessary. In the meantime, Prakash, with
Simon’s guidance you can prepare a comprehensive presentation of the
initiative, with client situation, requirement, our solution, differentiators,
learnings, innovations and all that ... I think it would be a very good case
study for our Best Practice event. It can be the Assignment of the Annum.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">There was
silence as the important words echoed along the transcontinental cables. I thought
I heard a couple of muted exclamations from Prakash, the entrapped professional
in him – an offshore vendor at that – trying to voice his insignificant logical
arguments in a vain effort to invoke rationality in a world where the threat of
rationalisation rules in a reign of terror. Soon, however, all such minor
noises of reason were drowned in the steady hum of action plans.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">The only
thing left for me to do was to use my privilege of being Dutch and excuse
myself for the day, as life called from beyond the cubicles – a call that is also
muted in the distant shores of a mysterious land. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><b>Corporate Butterfly Effect</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OaUZmtO6UPs/T8s-iiOSSYI/AAAAAAAAKRE/FNKncRc-riM/s1600/Corporate+Butterfly+Effect.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OaUZmtO6UPs/T8s-iiOSSYI/AAAAAAAAKRE/FNKncRc-riM/s320/Corporate+Butterfly+Effect.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">I spent the
evening at the De Duif, where an ensemble of art forms influenced by Chaos Theory
was on display. The write-up in the introductory leaflet spoke
of the classical questions asked by Chaos, “If a butterfly flaps its wings in
China will it result in a Tornado in San Francisco?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">As I was looking
at some exquisite paintings and computer images celebrating the vision of Benoit
Mandelbrot, it dawned on me. The day had just demonstrated to me the Chaotic
world of Corporate Circus of the modern day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">A customer
clearing his throat in Amsterdam does result in a tornado of managerial brain
farts in Bangalore. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">And the truckload of
resulting crap is splattered across numerous charts, graphs and reports. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Finally, in a country
where bullshit is traditionally considered sacred, these packaged excrements
are often revisited, rejoiced, revered and rewarded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-57106312075131131882012-02-06T13:17:00.000-08:002012-02-06T13:37:36.260-08:00Straight from the Butt or The Dinosaur Way- corporate lessons from evolutionary studies<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Why do giant corporate organisations always manage to suck? W</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">henever it grows in size and undergoes corporatisation, w</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">hat is it that converts a happy little homely firm into a collected cornucopia of creeps masquerading in formal wear ? Why is size directly proportional to the degree of gargantuan grievances and acts as an exponential accelerator for the inanity coefficient?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IHTKbBu6VYQ/TzBB5wvtFrI/AAAAAAAAJT4/0DgRTnqTh10/s1600/corpdino.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IHTKbBu6VYQ/TzBB5wvtFrI/AAAAAAAAJT4/0DgRTnqTh10/s320/corpdino.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The answer can be approximated from the field of palaeontology, if one knows where to look.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">According to the theories of Darwin, creatures evolve to zoom ahead in the race for survival of the fittest. Initial mutations are brilliant ways of getting ahead of the competition. The sabre teeth of the genus of the tigers named after their dentures helped them to pierce the hide of their prey, while the Apatosaurus, popularly known as the brontosaurus, grew to enormous dimensions to be frighteningly out of reach of the gnashing teeth of the smaller carnivores. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It is similar to the small organisation that gets ahead of the competing firms through some brilliance, or more often evolutionary chance later retrofitted as innovation. By luck or design, it is a step towards success and survival, and everyone is happy – the Apatosaurus, the Sabre Toothed Tiger and the now medium sized firm.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">However, it is perhaps now that the philosophical threshold of the middle path is trespassed. The proverbial too much of anything is indulged in and over-evolution enters the equation.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Some studies say that the teeth of the sabre toothed tiger became too big to hunt with the speed and ease of their smaller toothed cousins who survived. </span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The Apatosaurus grew too large for its reptilian brain to organise the body. The digestive cycle for the quantities of food consumed to maintain their monstrous physiology was way too long to be practical. And soon they fell prey to the evils of mega growth.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">From the organisational point of view, the brains that led the growth from the small to the medium size remained by and large constant. As the firm grew, the mass increased, and layers and layers of lipid accumulated to make up the numbers – or should we say the figure or bottom line. Brilliant brains are rare, and they remained exclusive – stagnant, restricted to the same few that had originally masterminded the initial success, with perhaps infinitesimal increase. The Apatosaurus analogy is now complete. The humongous structure had to be managed by the working intelligence suited for a much smaller system. The decentralised parts of the body malfunctioned, the constitution became crappy, the giant framework remained impressive to the outsider but slipshod and sloppy when viewed with analytical eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And herein, from some misleading studies in the evolutionary field, one can detect a few fundamental mistakes of both the organisation and its copycats – the last mentioned being the naive unfortunates who lap up and ape the gospel as recounted by the corporate communications teams in white-papers and volumes titled <i>The ________ Way</i> .<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The giant organisation, in an effort to keep leading the race even with the loads of lard, makes the terrible mistake of trying to squeeze brains out of blubber, by leaping on to the innovation bandwagon, in the curious craze for ideation, excellence, brainstorming and such synonyms of bovine excrement.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W6xFxtPNt9I/TzBBv-Hq2hI/AAAAAAAAJTw/yR7vaBGUZfo/s1600/stego.GIF" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="123" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W6xFxtPNt9I/TzBBv-Hq2hI/AAAAAAAAJTw/yR7vaBGUZfo/s200/stego.GIF" width="200" /></a></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zSFy3Ki95mw/TzBBb0DYveI/AAAAAAAAJTo/lbs4Hs8bo40/s1600/othnielcmarsh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zSFy3Ki95mw/TzBBb0DYveI/AAAAAAAAJTo/lbs4Hs8bo40/s200/othnielcmarsh.jpg" width="148" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small;">Othniel C Marsh</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We find parallels in the 19<sup>th</sup> century study of celebrated palaeontologist Othniel C Marsh. He was perpetually puzzled by the Stegosaurus, an elephant size lizard with walnut sized brains. Marsh, the man who named the Apatosaurus, Stegosaurus and Diplodocus, tried to solve the confusion with the hypothesis that the Stegosaur had a second brain in the butt. This was influenced in part by the cavity in the pelvic region of the Stegosaurus skeletons. Of course, this theory has been discredited, but it does serve as a lesson in how gigantic forms with small brains can lead able men to try and find intelligence in the arseholes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Likewise, the gigantic corporate organisations are desperate to squeeze brains out of their peripheries through relentless quest for innovation, trying to disguise farts as brainwaves, trying to run the mammoth frame by beating out sound and fury from the nether parts, the resulting routine thus becoming a colossal pain in the rump and little else.</span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It is all very well to make a farcical show of using manufactured historical data as products of butt-brained innovation, but there are some lessons from prehistory we will do well to bear in mind.</span></span></div>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-26572370651666920762012-02-02T05:57:00.000-08:002012-02-02T14:18:02.425-08:00Sherlock Holmes explains the Corporate Game of Shadows<div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s-1uvUelW5A/TyqVdY858UI/AAAAAAAAJTA/3LOdyn--O0Q/s1600/robert-downey-jr-basil-rathbone-benedict-cumberbatch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="169" sda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s-1uvUelW5A/TyqVdY858UI/AAAAAAAAJTA/3LOdyn--O0Q/s320/robert-downey-jr-basil-rathbone-benedict-cumberbatch.jpg" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Another day when the cubicle had to withstand the relentless barrage of insanity, another day when the mind clouded with confusion – resulting in outbursts of thunder and lightning. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And one had to bring in Sherlock Holmes to make sense of the madness, explain the curious incidents.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Let me begin by recounting what happened during the day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">...</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The interview had reached an impasse. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The resume on my Lenovo screen was sparkling, almost gilt edged. The mere sight of the listed research papers on computational theory and algorithmic analysis; many of them registered for patent, and some co-authored with veritable pioneers in the field; whipped shut my recruiter’s instinctive snoopiness with the sheer weight of erudition. The stereotypical questions I could think of to throw at the earnest Hungarian at the other end of the line suddenly seemed lame, cripple and grotesquely deformed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The account manager, at the third node of our conference call, was silent for a long, long time. I could sense him trying to bury the crushing feeling of inadequacy under a mountain of mundane mails which he was rummaging through importantly on his laptop, deluding himself into believing that his responsibilities as a business leader in Europe, right now rendered puny by the academic credentials of Laszlo Kovacs, granted him the status of superiority by default. The title <em>Dr</em>. in front of the Slavic name, in Heading 1 font at the top of the curriculum vitae, strategically placed to penetrate the protracted viewing zone of even the most myopic recruiting manager, did not help matters. Our combined qualifications were dwarfed. No follow up question was forthcoming once the man had gone over his career details.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The uncomfortable silence was interrupted with the connection disturbed by high pitched electronic interference. An sms filtered into my cell phone. It was from Ajay Yadav, the account manager at the third node. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Carry on asking questions!” it commanded.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It was perhaps the exclamation mark which clinched the battle with professional patience.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Laszlo, could you please excuse us for a minute?” I put the phone on mute and pressed the call button on my handset. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The account manager started without preamble, “Ask him some questions … you know I can only pitch in at the end…”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Ajay, this guy is more qualified and educated than the rest of the team put together, you and me included. You want me to ask him how to create project dashboards with red, amber, green signals for half-witted managers?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I assure you, I am not always like this. Right through <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Best-Seller-ebook/dp/B004E3XC9A/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">The Best Seller</span></a></i>, you have seen my innermost thoughts bubbling up only in the confessional confines of this blog. But, the maniacal mismatch between the interviewee and interviewer made me lose it totally. For a moment, it seemed that the spirit of my buddy had floated into me, and poor Ajay was once again being launched into the unchartered territories of truth.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“But, he has applied for this job …” he mumbled.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Then ask him why he wants to rot in these cubicles, manufacturing data and preparing graphs, tracking so called project progress – charts that are to be discussed by a room full of confused senior managers treating them like patterns of tea leaves which foretell doomsday or coming of the messiah – Why does he want this life when he can sit in Hungary and do something which involves thought, makes sense and is of actual use to the world.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“I agree that he is a little over-qualified ... ” Ajay admitted.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“A little?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“May I interrupt?” a heavily accented Slavonic voice interjected, throwing us off balance. “It seems to me that you two are in conference, and one of you forgot to put the call on mute …”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Eh?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Oh, man … Ajay…!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The cascading effects of delegation had reached chronic levels. Ajay Yadav had allowed our candidate to hear everything that we said … at least everything that he said. I was filled with genuine remorse. Of all people, I, who had been withstanding an atmosphere tinged with this imbecile for over three years now, should have seen it coming. Expecting him to put the phone on mute on his own had been an unpardonable mistake in my management of expectation from senior management.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“We’re terribly sorry, Laszlo …”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Pardon me for having heard what you said,” the gentle voice continued. “But, I think it is good that I can make out your apprehension. I only heard one side of the dialogue …”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Thank God for that.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“No … I mean, I am only too happy to explain. You find it surprising that I want to go to The Netherlands and work at a largely clerical job as a Project Management Office, umm, worker …”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I could make out he had scoured his vocabulary to come up with the last word. <em>Specialist</em> and <em>expert</em> would have sounded ridiculous anyway, oxymoron of the highest order. A social levelling could have been served with <em>comrade</em>, but it had remained politically incorrect and probably still induced nightmares in the country from where he hailed. Worker was a close enough approximation.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Ah, yes, Lasozo, you see we are afraid that if you keep doing something you don’t want to, you might end up not wanting to do it any more … and leave us soon,” Ajay Yadav had as usual made a hash of the Hungarian name, but at least he had managed to step into the conversation with something approaching sense.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“It’s Laszlo. I understand you are not familiar with Hungarian names. Also, it can be a bit confusing if you are not familiar with the conditions. I can write algorithm after algorithm here, revolutionise computing theory, but I will get paid only a third of what I can make there – if paid at all. And believe me, with a wife and a kid to support, you need no more motivation. Most often craving for cerebral challenges is vetoed by far more basic demands of the stomach.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ajay called me back once we had managed to hobble through the stumbling blocks of truth during the remaining duration of the interview.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Well, what do you think?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I took a deep breath. “We can give him what he wants, Ajay - a decent income and placement in The Netherlands. And he has what we want, a EU work permit and a salary expectation lower than the commerce graduates from India whom we scrape out from the bottom of the university barrels. We are a perfect match.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There was something on his mind even after I had broken it down into rudimentary units of demand and supply.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Er, yes, but his aptitude and intelligence …”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“That is indeed an exception of far more gigantic proportions than we have ever handled, but I guess if we can overlook his smartness, we will soon realise that he is smart enough to keep his mental faculties on a leash as he goes about generating graphs and dashboards …”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“I need to think about it. In the meantime could you ask Joost for his feedback regarding the Lasozo’s resume?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Laszlo,” I corrected half-heartedly and hung up. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It was some fifteen minutes later that Joost Kuiper walked past my cubicle, lips pressed in a perpetual silent whistle, the rakish hair standing motionless, in the rigid fetters of hair gel.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Joost, a moment,” I called him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Simon, what’s up?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“I was wondering whether you had a chance to look at the resume we sent you yesterday.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He pondered.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“The Hungarian guy?” the stress was on the last word. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As I nodded, a nubile form walked by – on her way back from the coffee machine. Neelam Verma was another <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Axiom </i>recruit, one of the girls from Bangalore, whose short two month assignment was coming to an end, much to the woe of many a Dutch and expat heart. Her two months of struggle with data mining had been an unmitigated disaster, but the tee shirts that she wore – the way they accentuated her assets, the amplitude of horizontal oscillations as she made her walk to and back from the coffee machine about two hundred and thirty times a day, all these more than made up for the wasted hours. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Er…,” Joost hesitated. “Is there really need for you to recruit? Can we not use from your current resource pool?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I followed his gaze and the hint was not too difficult to grasp. It would perhaps cost the company a little more because the Hungarian would request a much lower rate than the one currently paid to the Bachelor of Commerce (Pass.) from some obscure university in Central India. But, where manpower is sold as commodity, she had attributes that were far more valuable than patented research papers. She rocked in multiple dimensions.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“You want her to stay?” I asked, indicating the retreating, rhythmic swaying of the nymph like hips.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Er, yes,” Joost seized the opportunity to follow my eyes and ogle the curves before they disappeared into the cruel office chair, “… and could you be explicit about her staying on in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my </i>project? She needs to know ...”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I nodded. “Sure.”</span></div><div style="border-bottom: windowtext 3pt dotted; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; mso-element: para-border-div; padding-bottom: 1pt; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: dotted windowtext 3.0pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It was at the Bijlmer Arena Pathe, watching the newest mutilation of Sherlock Holmes, that I could actually make sense of the upside down microcosm of the corporate world.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gztwvsPdMdo/TyqVmEYxTYI/AAAAAAAAJTI/I_g3DHr1T6E/s1600/sherlock_holmes_a_game_of_shadows_ver11_xlg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="91" sda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gztwvsPdMdo/TyqVmEYxTYI/AAAAAAAAJTI/I_g3DHr1T6E/s200/sherlock_holmes_a_game_of_shadows_ver11_xlg.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In a grotesque mirror image of the corporate world, the commoditisation of one of the most cerebral characters of world literature into an action hero actually allegorised the plight of Dr. Laszlo Kovacs.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v-RdscBjfA0/TyqVv8MS4ZI/AAAAAAAAJTQ/f5JWNhstERk/s1600/218640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="135" sda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v-RdscBjfA0/TyqVv8MS4ZI/AAAAAAAAJTQ/f5JWNhstERk/s200/218640.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v-RdscBjfA0/TyqVv8MS4ZI/AAAAAAAAJTQ/f5JWNhstERk/s1600/218640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I have nothing against Robert Downey Jr., who was just doing what he has to … jumping through the directorial hoops, to be readily palatable to the wii and play-station happy cinema goers. The whirring within the brain, the categorisation and elimination of clues and the zeroing in on the solution by deductive reasoning cannot be projected on screen without stretching the imagination of the digital-dependant minds beyond their short threshold of patience and imagination. For intellectual analysis to be viewed by a current day cinematic audience, one has to attach gizmos which approximate the human brain on dumbed down virtual reality platforms of cheap pseudo technology – much like the innumerable crime scene investigation series that assault us today. No wonder the other Sherlockian avatar of the day is Benedict Cumberhatch, the cutting edge techno savvy manifestation of the sleuth on BBC, who conveniently delegates memory and detection to the external interfaces that look like iPhone apps and super windows.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It is strikingly similar to the patented research work of Dr. Kovacs that is too much of a mental mountain to climb, much more conveniently replaced by zazzy yet over-simplified red, amber, green dashboards of digitised corporate crap. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Jude Law too did his bit as Dr. Watson, the side kick of the action hero. Green Hornet and Kato probably put in more thought behind their action than this detection duo, but one has to dance to the music of time. Other than a couple of feeble attempts to throw some thinking in the foray, the difference between the master sleuth and his often bumbling assistant of the original stories was reduced to almost nothing – the mechanisms of the mind finishing as an also ran in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Game of Shadows</i>. The focus on immediate action, levelling the mental faculties across the horizons of intelligence quotient, is much like the modern world of corporate circus. Brilliant ideas of the genius of Conan Doyle limping in a poor second to the demand for instantaneous pyrotechnics – a carbon copy of the way organisational and process management theories are applied on demand, catering to the results of the next quarter, in the cubicular world.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JXNPBzaghwk/TyqWB11mutI/AAAAAAAAJTY/R3uXsNkT5HA/s1600/sherlock-holmes-a-game-of-shadows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="200" sda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JXNPBzaghwk/TyqWB11mutI/AAAAAAAAJTY/R3uXsNkT5HA/s200/sherlock-holmes-a-game-of-shadows.jpg" width="136" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Irene Adler, one of the most enigmatic female characters ever to grace pages of fiction, whose powers of thinking toppled even the great Sherlock Holmes from the pinnacle of the analytical world, is reduced to a ravishing bimbo with scarcely a line but lots of curves, appearance limited to the first reel. Rachel McAdams hastens to die during the first action sequence, but not before creating enough impression on the audience with every attribute in her possession sans the mental. The female character who takes her place is Noomi Rapace, as the gypsy woman with enough mystery to be unravelled in the distant lands of her origin mingled with the wrappings of cloth around her ample bosom, to make up for all the brains that died with Irene. The Neelam Verma of the modern day Holmes world.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And as the final blow to sensibilities, even Mycroft Holmes has to prance around naked to penetrate the mind of the movie lover of today. To think of Stephen Frey reduced to enacting a topless scene is a fair summary of the grotesque world we live in today, the most sublime of brains traded for the most bizarre of bodies – inside the cubicles and beyond.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sir Arthur would have been prophetic if he had exchanged names with his Professor Challenger novel and called the Sherlock Holmes canon – <em>The Lost World. </em>That is how it stands today.</span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-E3NQX5slUPk/TyqWG1KpWZI/AAAAAAAAJTg/HmpQ4ShA-C4/s1600/Sherlock_holmes.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-E3NQX5slUPk/TyqWG1KpWZI/AAAAAAAAJTg/HmpQ4ShA-C4/s1600/Sherlock_holmes.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><strong>The Lost World?</strong></span></td></tr>
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</div>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-24227316548526259592011-09-03T07:42:00.000-07:002012-02-02T06:56:54.588-08:00Shakespeare speaks about Corporate Meetings<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SVAK_b5VrYk/TmI8hqaDYrI/AAAAAAAAJEs/kovQt0oq5xY/s1600/work.6438570.1.flat%252C550x550%252C075%252Cf.shakespeare-the-office-based-playwright.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SVAK_b5VrYk/TmI8hqaDYrI/AAAAAAAAJEs/kovQt0oq5xY/s320/work.6438570.1.flat%252C550x550%252C075%252Cf.shakespeare-the-office-based-playwright.jpg" width="226" /></a></div><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I remember a book of quotations I used as an arsenal for my essays and articles in school days, to hit unsuspecting teachers with re-heated nuggets of borrowed wisdom. Those were the days before Wikiquotes or ThinkExist made it ridiculously simple to integrate lines by a plethora of great minds into an <i>original</i> masterpiece. In those days, we had to laboriously look up either the topic in the contents or the author in the index to zero down on a suitable quote. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I could find the greatest of garrulous quoters of the past adorning the index in something that looked like this:</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Shaw, George Bernard </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">10, 24, 55, 79, 133, 138-9, </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">162, 166, 177-9, 191, 211,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> 213, 217, 223, 226, 238, </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">240-2, 251, 268, 271, 277,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">290-3, 299, 300, 305, 311,</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">323</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">However, the system just did not work for the Swan of Avon. The compilers had given up the unequal struggle rather early in the game. Listed against Shakespeare, William in the index was a solitary word in italics <i>passim.</i></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">His quotations appeared everywhere, with rare exceptions on every page. The Greatest Poet, the Greatest Playwright or simply, the Greatest Writer of the noble English language seems to have written on every topic of human interest, and several which interest perhaps no one. Not for nothing is he called, among his other names, the Myriad Minded Shakespeare. An index on him would probably amount to a separate chapter on its own. So the compliers were wise enough to sum it up neatly in one word.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Now, back in those carefree days I could not care less for the goings on in the corporate world, and never had the burning desire to leaf through and check whether the great mind had said something useful about how to run businesses, but recently, in my moments of contemplation – that is to say, senior management meetings – his corporate wisdom was suddenly revealed to me in a blinding flash.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The bard’s eye view of the future foretells with eerie accuracy the corporatisation of the world and the social evil of spending hours and hours cooped up in meeting rooms, time that could be used for making the world a better place.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">In a famed short scene of just twelve lines, the masterly genius comes through with prophetic analysis of what corporate meeting rooms would look like in another four hundred years. The quill, in a flash surreal brilliance, documents what can be called the first minutes of meeting.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It starts with something that accompanies every managerial session – noise and flashy presentations – something that the greatest of all writers allegorically terms <i>thunder and lightning</i>. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Next, as the participants of the meeting enter, he cuts a long story short and moves to the only possible concrete result ever taken out of a meeting room.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“<i>When shall we three meet again</i>?” The only question that can be pondered with any hope of an answer in the millions and millions of dark and mysterious rooms around the world with sleepy men installed on comfortable chairs, huddling together beside round tables.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i><span lang="EN-GB">“When the hurly-burly’s done, when the battle’s lost and won.”</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"> In amazing use of metaphors, Shakespeare does hint at the futility of wasting precious time when there is work to be done. Yes, he is all for a short one once the project is done and over with, retrospection, lessons learnt, but to gather again and again when the game is still underway is a strict no-no. Perceval, Verity and other commentators could have done well to dwell on this lesson, but whether it would have been included in managerial training sessions or not is a deep and dark question.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i><span lang="EN-GB">“That will be ere the set of sun.”</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"> Long before it was fashionable, the farsighted plume scribbles down the advent of the proverbial EOD. The witches call for the next meeting in now well known terms –before the end of day, the close of business. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then comes the small thing of booking of the meeting room, and sending out the invitations. <i>“Where the place, upon the heath. There to meet with MacBeth.”</i> It was the subtle attention to detail with which the glorious pen documented the most mundane along with the most lofty.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> And once that is done, the following lines stun us with their detailed foretelling of how meetings would proceed otherwise.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“I come, Graymalkin.”</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Paddock calls.”</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Anon.”</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Apart from the time, place and attendees of the next meeting, all that goes on in the gathering are cell phones ringing and calling the attendees away –leading some of them to leave immediately. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And they all depart with the most accurate description of the corporate environment ever penned in the history of the written word. A couplet that etches to perfection the depressing, fuzzy, uncertain cubicular life with its weird reward and recognition system.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Fair is foul and foul is fair, hover through the fog and filthy air.”</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-35201304075500471132011-06-30T16:36:00.000-07:002011-06-30T16:36:35.115-07:00Who Moved my Revolution?<div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(This piece also occurs in the <i><a href="http://scrollonstands.blogspot.com/2011/06/who-moved-my-revolution.html">Scroll </a></i>online magazine. )</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Download an audio recording of Hilary Clinton’s <em>Freedom of Internet</em> Speech. Or stream in some other internet inspired rebellion manifesto by current day <i>thinkers</i> represented by the likes of Jared Cohen, or <i>visionaries </i>like Francis Fukuyama . The last named once proudly proclaimed 1989 to be the end of history. </span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: medium; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: medium; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: medium; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: medium;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kRDe0moL6jA/TgxhsL5_kpI/AAAAAAAAAYg/MIeZm4YjQB4/s1600/client+list.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="343px" i$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kRDe0moL6jA/TgxhsL5_kpI/AAAAAAAAAYg/MIeZm4YjQB4/s400/client+list.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="400px" /></a><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Close your eyes, forget the context and float away in the reassuring ramble. “Information freedom ... foundation for global progress ... tools in the hands of people for advancement ....deficiencies in the current market for innovation ... harnessing the power of connection technologies ... long term dividends from modest investments in innovation ... flat world ... connected communication ... Web 2.0”</span></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: medium; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: medium; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: medium; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: medium;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The excessively empty jargon sounds like eerie approximations of McKinsey-speak. One can almost sense the darkened conference room, projectors beaming meaningless charts and data, with superfluous smatterings of inane inconsequential information on the screen.</span></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: medium; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: medium; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: medium; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: medium;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The more Washington leans towards the Silicon Valley in rather puerile efforts to electronically re-simulate the samizdat operations of the Cold War era, the more the techno-mingled-drivel of such talks echo the colossal ignorance that reverberate across the corporate CEO meetings.</span></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: none; border-bottom-width: medium; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-left-width: medium; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: none; border-right-width: medium; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: none; border-top-width: medium;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It is of little surprise that the Freedom of Internet speech of Hilary Clinton has been tagged by some alternative media sites with the keyword ‘ignorance’. Not unjustified. Asked about Twitter a few days before the Iranian revolution broke out, the leading lady had responded, “I wouldn’t know a Twitter from a tweeter, but evidently it’s very important.”</span></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If one pauses for a moment of sanity amidst the furious beeps and clicks of a connected concept of cyber utopia, one cannot help but shudder at the thought of the world being liberated by leaders with self confessed unawareness of the very tools they claim to be magic pills.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We see at work the same wishful thinking with belligerent yet bird-brained buzzwords that characterise millions of Senior Management meetings. Only, in this case, the decision makers are people with phenomenal power, with actual ability to influence the world, who have in their hands technologically advanced and extremely interconnected tools that they do not understand. As discussed in another article, an email sent by one such ill advised policymaker to the administrators of a Social Media Tool can actually compromise the freedom and lives of actual dissidents across the world. Scary? It indeed is.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">While the phrase ‘Internet Freedom’ is searched more frequently from Washington area than Iran and the fragmented former Soviet Union nations put together, the policy makers are gaga about the new social media avatars of the samizdat press and the Radio Europe movements that supposedly managed to crumble the Berlin Wall, and folded the Iron Curtain into storage rooms of a half remembered past.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Buzzwords – another very corporate phenomenon – raise their noisy heads with the ingratiating yet convincing smiles. The architectural magnificence and geographical prominence of the Great Wall of China lends itself to the creation of misleading metaphors such as Great Firewall. The legions of politicians for whom 1989 is a self proclaimed feather in semi-thinking caps, pronounce aphorisms influenced by another Wall:“As networks spread around the globe, virtual walls are cropping up in places of visible walls.”</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Leaders who have smugly fitted into the political power-works by manipulating the bipolar world prior to 1989 harp that the Iron Curtain has been replaced by “a new information curtain descending across much of the world” where it is claimed that “viral videos and blog posts are becoming the samizdat of the day.”</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eZlkKDSDHZs/Tgxhn_F4bnI/AAAAAAAAAYc/YZtibPnd9CU/s1600/internetfreedom.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301px" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eZlkKDSDHZs/Tgxhn_F4bnI/AAAAAAAAAYc/YZtibPnd9CU/s400/internetfreedom.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="400px" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The dangers of such proclamations and the pitfalls of celebrating bloggers as modern day dissidents have been discussed in other articles of the issue, notably by my lovely friend Shruti Rattan. Here I am looking at the unnerving similarity of these declarations with similar decrees in the corporate world – where each and every company of the day is trying to chisel its social networking strategy into a silver bullet with the same chronic short term thinking that is the signature of the industry and, perhaps, the cause of cycles of booms and busts.</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In the mid to late 90s, the software world was being steered by senior management made up of experts in third generation languages like COBOL. Simultaneously, there was a lot of excitement about the relatively new Object Oriented Technologies. There lie in several archives of the industry huge quantities of code written in new generation syntax and semantics, feebly powered by old, procedural design. The platform of coding was changed to imprint the stamp of progress, but the erstwhile experts who engineered the changes often did not have the knowhow to benefit from the features of fourth generation object oriented languages. Enormous systems still chug along on these Jurassic algorithms in the then cutting edge outfit. The result has been a huge waste of money, manpower and efficiency.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In current events, we witness a similar trend in the political scenario. Historical parallels and inviting metaphors can make for great rhetoric, but it is ridculous to base decisions on wordplay and play havoc with the lives of other people.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Reusing the so called best practices of the pre 1989 era, implementing a blanket model that has supposedly worked in remarkably different conditions – along with a bull headed initiative to tweak every innovation into such propaganda are pathetic parallels of the uncommitted world of corporate cubicles.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">While the oedipal obstinacy to come out of the cold war parentage while dealing with completely different global situations can be of professional interest to Freudian analysts, basic questions still remain about whether the samizdat offering of leaflets, propaganda, books, photocopies, Radio Europe and so on were actually driving forces behind the fall of communism. There have been arguments that people in GDR were more interested in shows like Miami Vice than in assembling for protests. Was it really the underground photocopiers, or was it the chain of events leading to plummeting oil industry and rising food prices that led to the wall going down in 1989? We are not discussing that here, although it would not be ill-advised to pause and think about it before tweeting propaganda.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In other articles we have pointed out why the current platform of Social Media, with its messy electronic footprints, is far more dangerous for the activist than Samizdat. We have also dealt with the online version of slacktivists, reverse propaganda and the effect of cheap entertainment triumphing over dissidence. Here I would like to add that millions of connections between millions of people on the internet is a very, very complicated affair. Generalised optimistic jargon filled proclamations about cyber utopia and the messianic merits of the Socially Networked World can be fine for fifteen minutes of spotlight. But, no one can honestly predict the future of such a connected world yet.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The complexity of the electronic mesh that entangles everyone consists of too many parameters. It is prone to the chaotic phenomenon of small changes creating an immense domino effect. It is impossible to predict which way such a connected world will react to the ripples, through integration or falling to bits.</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Till such a time that we can form an informed prediction in this information chaos, it may be a good idea to take the deafening optimistic sound and fury about cyber rebellion with the same cynical nonchalance with which we attend management review meetings.</span></span></div></div>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-86941926626989773962011-05-09T13:23:00.000-07:002011-05-09T13:30:44.577-07:00A 'Closer' look at the Cosmos of Cubicle and Clicks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rlxYcKC8Idg/TchLiv2mImI/AAAAAAAAI_U/t7C3AJ0i3oI/s1600/600full-closer-poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="102" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rlxYcKC8Idg/TchLiv2mImI/AAAAAAAAI_U/t7C3AJ0i3oI/s200/600full-closer-poster.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>There are many who consider Patric Marber's 2004 bitter romantic drama, <i>Closer</i>, to be a loose, modern and tragic adaptation of <i>Cosi fan tutte</i>, Mozart's <i>opera buffa</i> on partner swaps.<br />
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In fact, in the Julia Roberts, Natalie Portman, Jude Law and Clive Owen starrer, the hand and handiwork of the great composer can be seen and heard everywhere. The opera is featured in the film and the sound tracks keep resonating with highlights from the eighteenth century production.<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4CpXAOmUAqU/TchLtae8JaI/AAAAAAAAI_Y/LSpIIJy9Qzc/s1600/Julia.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="136" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4CpXAOmUAqU/TchLtae8JaI/AAAAAAAAI_Y/LSpIIJy9Qzc/s200/Julia.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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For the musically inclined, or those who revel in witty dialogue, attractive people and complexities of relationship, the film is highly recommended as a visual and aural delight.<br />
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However, even as I watched mature performances combining with excellent editing to produce a rare symphony for the senses, the most lasting impression was somewhat surprising.<br />
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</a></div>All through the 100 minutes, a feast of feminine charms were portrayed with the most sensual camera angles on two such fascinating female forms as Roberts and Portman. And it is perhaps testimony to the warping of my cubicle calibrated senses, that the most striking scene for me, the one I am currently writing about, took place between the metro-sexual Jude Law and the dashing Clive Owen. Curiously again, in a film which cruises on the sonorous sound-waves created by the genius of Mozart, this particular sequence was enacted with the overture of Rossini's <i>La Cerentola</i> playing in the background.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AvSEVSKZy0I/TchL2zGzLdI/AAAAAAAAI_c/AQbqWvx18ck/s1600/Closer-natalie-portman-221176_650_434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AvSEVSKZy0I/TchL2zGzLdI/AAAAAAAAI_c/AQbqWvx18ck/s200/Closer-natalie-portman-221176_650_434.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AvSEVSKZy0I/TchL2zGzLdI/AAAAAAAAI_c/AQbqWvx18ck/s1600/Closer-natalie-portman-221176_650_434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a>In this curiously interesting scene, Law, a writer, sits in his home and logs into a chat forum impersonating a woman and strikes up an on-line conversation with Owen, a dermatologist sitting in his chamber. As the two indulge in crude and explicit dialogue that is stereotypical in such encounters, Owen gets horny and takes the phone off the hook to go the full cyber-sexual distance. It is a combined tribute to the directional brilliance, musical genius and acting talents that the entire routine comes off as poetic rather than gross. The fermata, allegro and crescendos are masterfully combined with the smutty suggestions, prurient passes, lewd language and the resulting raise of the eyebrow, rolling of the eyes and other facial expressions.<br />
Even as Law works Owen into a hard on, asks him to take out his member and finally indulges in a typed gibberish denoting orgasm (ooooooo $#&* 000agdfyugefwyfw%%%%% and more such junk), the music synchronises with perfect harmony and the outcome is melody mingled hilarity. The amusement, in fact, is carried on to the next level as Law, posing online as Julia Roberts, unintentionally sets up a meeting between Owen and the pretty woman, thus becoming the most vulgar version of Cupid ever.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_jYSGUannrk/TchMivI7bhI/AAAAAAAAI_k/EOtxxjLj2kg/s1600/jude+law+computer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_jYSGUannrk/TchMivI7bhI/AAAAAAAAI_k/EOtxxjLj2kg/s200/jude+law+computer.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>One way of looking at it is to appreciate the ingenuity in synchronising heavenly music to the basest act of fulfilment. While it is relatively common to use accompanying classical music with the rhythms of physical lovemaking – one can remember the pre-internet age Julia Roberts starrer Pretty Woman as an example – this small cinematic burletta does its bit in acknowledging the cyber world as an extension of our own three dimensional one.<br />
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However, ever since my buddy screened the famed episode of <i>Everything You Needed To Know about Sex and Were Afraid to Ask</i> in a corporate team building session (now documented famously in <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/145380398X/">The Best Seller</a></i>) I have been afflicted with the bug of mapping movie masterpieces to the analogous make believe world of corporate circus. As with the earlier observations about <i><a href="http://senantixsimon.blogspot.com/2011/01/blow-up-job.html">Blow Up</a></i> and <a href="http://senantixsimon.blogspot.com/2011/02/looking-at-corpocracy-with-eyes-wide.html"><i>Eyes Wide Shu</i>t</a>, this particular scene from the poetic drama on silver screen got me drawing compulsive parallels with the world of the click and cubicle.<br />
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Think about it.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gnz2LSeVf1g/TchMsgZ2nxI/AAAAAAAAI_o/yTEXNkZ3RIw/s1600/clive.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gnz2LSeVf1g/TchMsgZ2nxI/AAAAAAAAI_o/yTEXNkZ3RIw/s200/clive.jpg" width="200" /></a> Fabrication and impossible promises manufactured over the electronic medium, crude packets of age-old delivery in new fangled form to 'delight' the recipient, ultimately resulting in orgiastic euphoria at something that translates to elaborately typed non-sense. The provider even goes to the extent of lying about his assets, highs and lows, as he tries his hand at customer satisfaction. Throughout, the background score orchestrates music for the uplifted soul, ethereal exhilaration, cerebral ecstasy at the consummating crescendo – while all the while, the transactions take place at the lower depths, with the onus on the bottom line, making ends meet.<br />
<br />
In a curious correction that completes the metaphor, at one point of time during the instant messaging, Law asks Owen about the size of his organ, and in his haste, the latter responds with the unit £ rather than inches – underlying the corporate axiom that whatever be the measure, of the source of life or pleasure, everything boils down to a monetary value.<br />
<br />
Cybernetic screwing with background sound effects hinting at the exalted and esoteric. The metaphorical retelling of the cubicular cosmos in a cinematic reel.Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-60973409409424682352011-05-04T14:57:00.000-07:002011-05-05T10:52:11.035-07:00The Corporate Genius - spoof of Malcolm Gladwell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1lREmMj_CHo/TcHHw12Pm9I/AAAAAAAAI7U/2JwLBCjuksA/s1600/gladwell-243x279.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br />
</a></div>Malcolm Gladwell's books always fascinate me.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b8_BnG9oojE/TcHKuZgKUbI/AAAAAAAAI74/ECSu6wAdYR4/s1600/oldbean.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b8_BnG9oojE/TcHKuZgKUbI/AAAAAAAAI74/ECSu6wAdYR4/s400/oldbean.JPG" width="336" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">He has not written this, but may well do so after reading this article</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Written with the professional elegance of language, they discuss facts that massage the grey cells, passively exercising without stretching them too much. They delight readers by hinting at the possibility of there being something more to reality than is apparent. Pleasant and free flowing, they sometimes do away with scientific rigour – especially when making unverified claims about birth time windows maximising chances of becoming millionaires, highly connected hubs for successful networks and so on. However, they deal with complex sociological phenomena in the simplistic language even the modern twitterature and blogosphere addicts can follow.<br />
<br />
In keeping with the fleeting attention span of his wide range of readers, the dimension that the writing probes are breadth and variety without becoming entrapped in despairing depth. So a lot of it is superficial, merely scratching the surface. However, that is to be expected from an erstwhile scribe for the <i>Washington Post </i>who currently earns his royalty-aside bread as a columnist for <i>The New Yorker</i>.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ChMOJ6bGFj8/TcHI7HesNwI/AAAAAAAAI7c/Hw1nZfLofUU/s1600/booksoriginal.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><br />
For me, there are a lot of corporate lessons in his works. The books, with their pristine white get up, a concise subtitle and an economic picture of an out of box object, such as a match stick or a shoe, give an exemplary demonstration of the working of visual branding. This has been dealt with by the excellent caricatures of Cory and Blett in <a href="http://www.malcolmgladwellbookgenerator.com/">http://www.malcolmgladwellbookgenerator.com/.</a><br />
<br />
They are also a lesson in how simple facts strung together by scratching the inner peripheries of something that sounds like science can fill pages on pages of engaging thought. Had I been in charge, his entire collection would have been compulsory reading for proposal writers bent on delighting time challenged customers. His latest book <i>What the Dog Saw</i> is an excellent example of reusing old ideas when nothing new seems to be forthcoming.<br />
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However, when I say that corporate proposal writers could learn from Gladwell, please don't misunderstand me. I would urge the reader to refrain from concluding that I am equating the works of the writer with the outputs of our cubicle constrained creativity. Many of the ideas penned by him, although often stating little more than the obvious and frequently challenged by scientists, are genuinely thought provoking.<br />
<br />
In <i>Tipping Point</i> he talks about the disproportionate influence of a select few, which Joseph Juran had quietly outlined more than half a century ago.In his self effacing way, Juran had named the effect after the Italian economist Vilfredo Pareto. In <i>Outliers</i>, Gladwell proposes that success is the result of situations, circumstances, talent, repetition and hard work – a statement that almost challenges the inanity of axiomatic core messages of most corporate innovations.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AkBwcIbinDs/TcHJHLwd-VI/AAAAAAAAI7g/qDkFnBn8zDw/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AkBwcIbinDs/TcHJHLwd-VI/AAAAAAAAI7g/qDkFnBn8zDw/s200/2.jpg" width="125" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Picture: Cory and Blett</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>However, the crux of his argument is interesting. He maintains, and I agree, that situations and circumstances far outweigh the other factors and actually provide the opportunity for talent to be sharpened to the level of the genius through repetition and hard work. Specifically, he comes up with the 10000 hour rule, which indeed what this article deals with.<br />
<br />
Based on a study by Anders Ericsson, professor of Psychology at the Florida State University, Gladwell claims that genius does not always need colossal talent, but almost always requires enormous amounts of time. The magic number of hours roughly translates into 10000 across diverse fields. It is the defining claim of the book that a reasonably talented individual will be likely to rise to the level of a genius if fortunate enough to spend 10000 or more hours practicing and perfecting his art.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FsrLwD0TiI0/TcHJaWWXGNI/AAAAAAAAI7k/AEkAzgM97Q8/s1600/beatles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FsrLwD0TiI0/TcHJaWWXGNI/AAAAAAAAI7k/AEkAzgM97Q8/s200/beatles.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>The Beatles, according to Gladwell, performed live in Hamburg over 1,200 times from 1960 to 1964, amassing more than 10,000 hours of playing time. Gladwell asserts that all this time The Beatles spent performing shaped their talent. They were '<i>made</i>' by this experience, chiselling themselves into something people had never heard before.<br />
<br />
Bill Gates met the 10,000-Hour Rule when he gained access to a high school computer in 1968 at the age of 13, and spent long hours programming on it. We need to remember that in 1968 computers were nowhere near as commonplace as they are now, and access to one was reserved for the very elite or the extremely lucky. Gladwell claims that without this circumstantial advantage, Gates could have been successful given his entrepreneurial acumen, but chances of being worth 50 billion US dollars would have remained remote.<br />
<br />
Gladwell’s arguments about the hours are quite thought provoking. It raises the question, and sometimes concern, about how an initial edge driven by nothing other than plain strokes of fortune allows some people to experience this ten thousand hour luxury. An analysis of the birthdates of the US national league hockey teams reveals that most of them were born in the months of January and February which enabled them to be the oldest in their classes in junior school, thus enjoying an early physical advantage. He goes on to show how this advantage becomes the differentiating factor as these select people carried forward by timely birth were continuously selected among the best players, thus clocking hours and hours of best competitive hockey time, till the equally capable but born some months apart are left way behind for lack of equivalent practice.<br />
<br />
While all that rings true, and I am a firm believer in chance and opportunity playing a rather unsettlingly dominant role in the shaping of success stories, my rather sinister sense of sarcasm was provoked into wondering how this rule translates into the land of the clicks, beyond the cubicle infested antiseptic boundaries of the corporate world.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ChMOJ6bGFj8/TcHI7HesNwI/AAAAAAAAI7c/Hw1nZfLofUU/s1600/booksoriginal.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ChMOJ6bGFj8/TcHI7HesNwI/AAAAAAAAI7c/Hw1nZfLofUU/s320/booksoriginal.JPG" width="301" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Well, these are his actual books</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Working fo an Indian organisation, I can hardly open my mailbox without facing a 360 degree bombardment of innovations and accolades, stories of exceptional achievers and fables about delighted customers. The Key Responsibility Areas of managers are being mapped to idea generation by people who believe that time has installed publicity as the mother of invention. Hence, a common employee like me constantly finds his own thoughts slashed to ribbons by so called cutting edge conceptions, and the peace and quiet of the cubicle blasted to bits by the drums, bugles, bells and whistles that accompany these measures and drives. I would say we are lucky that almost all of these revolutionary ideas turn out to be brain farts and damp squibs, preventing a disaster of the nature as perpetual innovation had triggered in the banking industry not too long ago.<br />
<br />
However, even with mails, mailers, podcasts and newsletters paradoxically showcasing out of box Einsteins at every nook and corner of the cubicles, not even the most deluded star employee can honestly claim to be a genius at his work by any stretch of his stilted yet flexible imagination. With all the hours booked and salaries drawn by the workforce streaming in and out of the cubicles each day, pitifully little work is done that can be translated into even an infinitesimal paradigm shift. In the form of tools, spreadsheets, reports, metrics, meeting minutes and soiled coffee cups, the resulting output from all but a very small percentage of the hours put in by the workforce comes out as decadent debris of waste – products that can neither be used nor recycled, with the sole exception of the Styrofoam coffee cups. It is also a well known trait in the industry that the higher a person rises, the more incapable he becomes at performing useful work which actually benefits the customers. <br />
<br />
So, does the 10000 hour rule draw a blank in the industry? Are all the monumental man years billed to grudging customers and spent in front of futuristic laptops immune to the Gladwell genius syndrome?<br />
<br />
Let us take a deeper look.<br />
<br />
One of the factors which contribute greatly to the lack of expertise seems to be the phenomenal hankering for<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 1em; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KBGEYhzP6HQ/TcHKGV8mp4I/AAAAAAAAI7s/vbiwHLthH3Q/s1600/25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KBGEYhzP6HQ/TcHKGV8mp4I/AAAAAAAAI7s/vbiwHLthH3Q/s320/25.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Picture: Cory and Blett</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table> the next level. To the workforce, promotions and change of role is the Holy Grail, elicited through periodic reminders, strategic whining and a lepidopterist like passion for collecting appreciation mails. What this ensures is that organisations play along and keep promoting people, often creating room at the top and adding layers in the middle to accommodate the continuous corporate climb. So, the seasoned athletes competing in the perennial rat race end up with a maximum of 3 years in a particular level, doing the same job.<br />
<br />
A person spends around 1700 hours in office per year. The amount of work done in these 1700 hours is a complicated function of the designation, but seldom is it more than a very liberal estimate of 50%. With emails, internet and coffee machines, it is neither possible nor fair to budget for more. Refreshing the mind and body becomes more and more necessary, especially given the extra hours that people insist on staying in office and wear as a medallion during the cycles of promotion.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xu7Bc5V_pfk/TcHKidS_7tI/AAAAAAAAI70/_mOdqCHDd1A/s1600/0511-0811-0415-3733_Cartoon_of_an_Office_Worker_Drinking_Too_Much_Coffee_clipart_image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div>Hence, with a maximum of 2600 hours on the same job, the drones rarely have enough time to make them deft, skilled geniuses. Even when they perform the same role while spanning three different designations, they fall short of the required amount of practice that makes perfect. Another factor to consider here is that with each passing year and change in designation, the time spent working diminishes, making way for many channels aiding celebration of work in the form of caffeinated coffee, cigarettes, conversations, cell phone and ipod generated music, curriculum vitae circulation, cricket discussions, character assassination, cribbing about reward-less slogging and canvassing for a change of role.<br />
<br />
We seem to have dug out the root of the problem. The unfortunate cubicle creatures are handicapped by the lack of opportunity of spending enough time on the job. Maybe a relook at the structure of the industry, the cycle of promotions and change of roles and some psychiatric counselling reigning in the fascination with growth and moving up the ladder can bring about a radical change in the quality of work. Maybe with such a change, suddenly innovations will resemble something worthwhile rather than an excel macro imitating Macavity in working out complicated long division sums.<br />
<br />
But, the next question is, what about the hours put in now, piling upon one another, amounting to a mountain of experience so frequently translated into company capability? Do all those logged time amount to nothing? All spiral into nothing because of the change of designations and roles necessitated by promotion cycles? The promotion cycles in its turn are necessitated by the conviction that the most important feature in an individual is not the presence or absence of a sizable paunch, a working knowledge or absolute ignorance about George Bernard Shaw or a fantastic relationship or the absence thereof with spouse and kid, but surfaces only through the word manager and its derivatives printed or absent on a business card.<br />
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My view is different. Malcolm Gladwell does hit the nail on its head. In spite of changing roles every three years, corporate cubicle creatures do develop sophisticated skills at some of the activities demanded by the job. Because, regardless of designation, some things never change.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b8_BnG9oojE/TcHKuZgKUbI/AAAAAAAAI74/ECSu6wAdYR4/s1600/oldbean.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br />
</a></div>A standard issue worker consumes about eight cups of coffee per work day. If we put it in the well encouraged and appreciated quantitative numbers, this amounts to nearly two hours per day of taking the walk, washing the cup, choosing the brew, pouring and stirring, adding milk and sugar, networking with colleagues and customers in the highly connected hub called the espresso machine. This amounts to nearly 450 hours per year. Given the normal 20-25 year career climb to the secluded office with a buxom secretary who will serve coffee and more, one generally ends up spending 10000 hours in quest of caffeine in the corpocratic quarters.<br />
<br />
One should also not forget that with growth come additional responsibilities. There are frequent requirements of getting together with customers or colleagues, disgruntled or sycophantic underlings, planning sessions and motivational pep talks. All these mean steaming Styrofoam cups of hot brew.<br />
<br />
The trick here is not to change allegiance between beverages. Dividing time between tea and coffee and the occasional hot chocolate like a fickle fresher ignorant of the bigger picture will end up in being neither here, nor there. Definitely not transformed into a genius.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xu7Bc5V_pfk/TcHKidS_7tI/AAAAAAAAI70/_mOdqCHDd1A/s1600/0511-0811-0415-3733_Cartoon_of_an_Office_Worker_Drinking_Too_Much_Coffee_clipart_image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xu7Bc5V_pfk/TcHKidS_7tI/AAAAAAAAI70/_mOdqCHDd1A/s200/0511-0811-0415-3733_Cartoon_of_an_Office_Worker_Drinking_Too_Much_Coffee_clipart_image.jpg" width="200" /></a>Another aspect where I see excellence regardless of rapid change of designation, is in the phenomenal capacity of self promotion. If 50% of eight hours is spent working per day, nearly an equivalent or more is spent talking about the way the clicks of mouse and the taps on the solitary keyboard are keeping the world from disintegrating into the primordial soup we came from. No wonder people often spend way more than ten hours in office. There are ball by ball descriptions of the complications and challenges, coupled with the innovations brought about to overcome the same. Exceptional skill in every line of code written, every excel cell populated, every audit report filled. The Nobel Prize seems to have just about eluded the excellent and capable grasps in a cruel twist of fate. A fifteen minute interaction with most is enough to fill three and a half chapters of their biographies. Four hours a day engaged in this occupation, with whines and groans to spice things up as promotion cycle approaches, is another constant which gives us a semblance of stability in an ever changing world. A mere twelve years of this enables one to fulfil the Gladwell requirement. Every corporate creep who is worth his salt and has been around for little more than a decade is a genius at convincing the world that it exists because of his exploits in the cubicle. Atlas may have shrugged, but not he – for the organisation, the clients, the industry and the world is balanced on his weary and capable shoulders. Like a deep sea creature, he prides himself in surviving under immense pressure.<br />
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So, that is the Malcolm Gladwell verified image of the corporate genius.<br />
<br />
Coffee cup in hand, a non-chalant smile taking the focus off bleary eyes, talking about achievements against the odds, about thriving under pressure and about coffers rich with received accolades, yet morose at being not rewarded with the step up to the next level. The air gradually filling up with the rancid combination of coffee and crap.Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-39794058020000322132011-04-19T14:58:00.000-07:002011-04-20T06:50:19.479-07:00Innovation Idolatory and IdiocyThe unmistakable sound of a process specialist tripping over the network cable made me look up from my machine even as I was slipping into the morning mode of phasing out. The face that peered at me was etched with a smile that I interpreted as ominous. The zeal in his eyes spoke of untold owes about to be unleashed on my hapless self. It was justTuesday, a long way to go beyond that sun-kissed weekly horizon beyond which lie peace and quiet.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fecrw4Zs__U/Ta4D2Ikx9DI/AAAAAAAAI6U/CnffdT74pR0/s1600/innovation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212px" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fecrw4Zs__U/Ta4D2Ikx9DI/AAAAAAAAI6U/CnffdT74pR0/s320/innovation.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
“Hi,” said the smiling face, a member of the newly formed <i>Inno-culation</i> Squad. From the barrage of mailers that clogged the organisational mailboxes before going through the religious shift delete routine, some did linger long enough for me to know that they were a special bunch supposed to find ways to <i>innovate </i>operations and spread them over the rest of the organisation like a shroud through intelligent <i>circulation</i>. Hence the composite moniker.<br />
<br />
“Hi,” I replied hastily, clinging on to the slim chance that it was a casual stop on the way back from the coffee machine. But, I knew better. The <i>Innoculator </i>was already planting his uninvited butt in the unoffered chair. Talk about being proactive.<br />
<br />
“Simon,” he greeted warmly, flashing another smile. “A minute of your time?”<br />
I said that I could afford a minute but not much more. But, he translated it as a full blown invitation.<br />
“I wanted to ask you something. Could you share your Outlook calendar?”<br />
<br />
Now, let me tell you something about the Dutchmen. They are very touchy about calendars and diaries and appointment books. The average Dutch child gets his or her first appointment diary before puberty and uses them unceasingly for the rest of their lives. Although my ancestry and upbringing have left strains of the Irish and American in me, I am still as meticulous and possessive about my schedule as any Hans or Geert or Jaap.<br />
I politely asked him why he wanted me to do that.<br />
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“We have a new idea,” he answered, eyes shining with parental pride.<br />
I winced. Ideas and Innovations had brought the world economy on its knees not too long back. Luckily, our industry of dealing with the software of the Bank leaves us little elbow room to nudge the financial system out of balance. The thought waves are generally too feeble to cause a destructive tempest. Yet, the fear remains, along with the abhorrence for pungent brain-farts. I guardedly asked him what his idea was.<br />
<br />
“This was the result of our <i>Ideration</i>,” he informed. “We were discussing ...”<br />
I stopped him and asked him what Ideration was. He smiled proudly. “It is a composite word – for Idea and Generation. We call these sessions of <i>Brain Blizzards</i> ...”<br />
<br />
I remarked that all along I had heard the term Brain Storming, and misnomer though it was in the liberal use of the first term, it was probably more accepted ...<br />
<br />
“Well, our first Innovation was to coin a new term for these sessions. It is for a regular Brain Storming session which is also <i>cool</i>. Hence <i>Brain Blizzard</i>. We had gone to Budapest for this <i>Brain Blizzard</i> ...”<br />
<br />
“Budapest?”<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mSKvKXgh97w/Ta4EksVwO5I/AAAAAAAAI6Y/5Dw08Rl2sNo/s1600/mlyn1245l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199px" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mSKvKXgh97w/Ta4EksVwO5I/AAAAAAAAI6Y/5Dw08Rl2sNo/s200/mlyn1245l.jpg" width="200px" /></a></div>“Yes. The different accounts have identified <i>Idealisers</i>. I am the <i>Idealiser </i>of this Account. So, as I was saying, all the <i>Idealisers </i>had been sent to Budapest to be trained in Innovation Techniques by our Innovation Centre of Excellence.”<br />
<br />
Even attuned to the Internet, Social Media and Television News Channels, I found myself suffering from advanced stages of information overload. I asked him what on earth an <i>Idealiser </i>was.<br />
<br />
“He is an Idea Evangeliser. So, every account has an identified <i>Idealiser </i>...”<br />
<br />
“And all of you went to Budapest?”<br />
<br />
“Yes. To learn about thinking out of the box, lateral thinking, Creative Discussion, SWOT Analysis ...”<br />
I politely asked him how long he had been in Hungary.<br />
<br />
“Three days. We had some practical hands on sessions on innovation. We also learnt about the process and templates to follow.”<br />
<br />
“You have a Process for innovation?”<br />
<br />
“Indeed. It is very rigorous. We have regular process checks to see if new Ideas are being implemented according to the guidelines.”<br />
<br />
I sighed.<br />
<br />
“And the company paid for this jamboree?”<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SCy0FfZGBtg/Ta4EuliXcYI/AAAAAAAAI6c/coIZP61SrrI/s1600/dilbert23659960040216.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="109px" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SCy0FfZGBtg/Ta4EuliXcYI/AAAAAAAAI6c/coIZP61SrrI/s320/dilbert23659960040216.gif" width="320px" /></a></div> He was confused. It was probably too out of box a word for his cubicle and innovation honed vocabulary.<br />
<br />
“Yes, there is a lot of focus on innovation now. It is a high visibility project. Every account lead is supposed to show innovation in at least one area every quarter.”<br />
<br />
“Ah, so you have goals as well?”<br />
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He laughed. “Very defined ones. It is all in the <i>Innual </i>– or the Innovation Manual. We have to go strictly by the book.”<br />
<br />
“And is someone keeping score?”<br />
<br />
This lateral piece of dialogue foxed the <i>Idealiser</i>. “Score? The World Cup is over ...”<br />
<br />
“I mean is someone keeping a tab on the expense of such Budapest Brain Blizzards and Idealising Investments?”<br />
<br />
The Idealiser nodded condescendingly. “We are trained to save money with every Idealisation. All this will reflect very positively in the bottom line. In fact, there is a euro-value attached to the goal of one innovation per quarter – we have to demonstrate profits.”<br />
<br />
I shrugged. “So in three days you have learnt to save money through Idealisation?”<br />
<br />
He nodded. “That’s what <i>Innoculation </i>is all about.”<br />
<br />
“And what has it got to do with my calendar?”<br />
<br />
He became efficient and businesslike, a man of crisp words and lots and lots of action.<br />
<br />
“We will look through your plan, note the deadlines and mark your calendar so that you get timely alerts.”<br />
<br />
I waited for him to continue. I waited long, the paragon of patience. But, not another word came out of him, straight or lateral.<br />
<br />
“And...?”<br />
<br />
“As I said,” he repeated. “We will look through your plan, note the deadlines and mark your calendar so that ...”<br />
<br />
“And that will save the account money?”<br />
<br />
He smiled enthusiastically. “It will lead to <i>Innov-ofit,</i> that is to say Innovation Profit.”<br />
<br />
I nodded. “I don’t doubt that will be enough of it. You have filled the manual with all these terms, haven’t you?”<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0TEMYws1vcE/Ta4E37I9v-I/AAAAAAAAI6g/bcJOpxE-VCU/s1600/aba0138l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0TEMYws1vcE/Ta4E37I9v-I/AAAAAAAAI6g/bcJOpxE-VCU/s320/aba0138l.jpg" width="298px" /></a></div>“We were trained to think out of the box. All these terms were derived in the three days of training. “<br />
<br />
“What else did you do those three days?”<br />
<br />
“We listened to lectures or – as we call it – <i>Idolatries </i>... or Idea Lauding Oratories. Now, Simon, could you share your calendar?”<br />
<br />
I pressed my thumbs against my temples. The distinct throb was alarming.<br />
<br />
“Has it ever occurred to you that Dutch blood runs through my veins? Contaminated by the Irish side of parentage and the American upbringing, but about half of the red blood corpuscles are from the heart of Holland.”<br />
<br />
He gazed back, groping inside and out of the situational box, unable to make sense of the innovative angle of argument.<br />
<br />
“Okay, let me break it down for you. I am Dutch and I work in the Project Management Office division. Every plan that I keep is tracked to the limit. All the milestones, deadlines, meetings, deliveries, releases for the next six months are already in my calendar. Now what possible value could you add by re-marking my calendar?”<br />
<br />
Contrary to the extreme limits of my expectations, the <i>Idealiser </i>smiled knowingly.<br />
<br />
“Simon, you made my task so much easier. Now the In-cubation will be so much easier. I will proactively mark your calendar by copying and pasting your appointments and reminders. And, well, in-cubation is placing an innovation in a cubicle.”<br />
<br />
“And what will one appointment on top of another do, other than giving me two simultaneous reminders and one continuous headache?”<br />
<br />
He frowned and made a note of something in his notepad. Probably the attitude problem of an <i>Incipient </i>– well I was already thinking of myself as a conglomerated being – an Innovation Recipient.<br />
<br />
“You don’t see the bottom line do you?”<br />
<br />
“All I see is a blot on my horizon.”<br />
<br />
I don’t think he understood my sarcasm. He started scribbling on his notepad.<br />
<br />
“You see, every deadline you could have missed has a monetary equivalent, an euro value associated with it in terms of loss, rework, penalty payment ... So, already, by copying and pasting your calendar, the innov-ofit will show quite a turnaround. We built a secure solution for you never to miss a deadline.”<br />
<br />
I clutched my hair.<br />
“Could you idealise another ground breaking idea?”<br />
<br />
He frowned.<br />
“Since you are not an official idealiser, any idea from you will have to be approved by the <i>Idealiser </i>of the account, followed by the <i>Location Innoculator</i> and finally the<i> Grand Inquisitor</i> – that is, the one in charge of Innovation Acquisition. That’s according to the <i>Innual</i>. However, I can try to get it passed.”<br />
<br />
I slumped back in my seat.<br />
<br />
“Why not leave me alone and let me carry on as usual. You can put down whatever I did not screw up as an <i>Innovofit</i>. Just don’t come to my cubicle again ...”<br />
<br />
Obviously, such negotiations did not mature to fruition. To get rid of him, I had to ultimately share my calendar. And then I popped down to the Apotheek to get myself an NWC 30 SFT for throbbing temples.<br />
<br />
The ceaseless strife for the fifteen minutes of limelight has now been reduced to such serious levels of ridiculousness that company mailers increasingly look like badly exaggerated spoofs. The implementers come and go, unknowingly producing fascinating periods of stand-up comedy.<br />
<br />
A previous article I had written about Deming’s first principle rings true here as well, although in notes bellowing out of a grotesque tragicomedy. The trouble is still with the constancy of purpose.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Da0ugsEH7VM/Ta4E_CmKG2I/AAAAAAAAI6k/vw1mgVcYUSk/s1600/SearsRoebuck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200px" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Da0ugsEH7VM/Ta4E_CmKG2I/AAAAAAAAI6k/vw1mgVcYUSk/s200/SearsRoebuck.jpg" width="160px" /></a></div>In the 1990s, the Sears, Roebuck management reset the sales goals of automotive mechanics to $147 an hour – presumably to increase the speed of repairs. What it resulted in was overcharging for their services and repairing things that were not broken.<br />
<br />
This is just a one-off example. The business world is littered with such case studies.<br />
<br />
In the almost pathetic parallel played out in the cubicular world, the goals are set to one innovation every quarter for every manager. Obviously, they will try and fix what is not broken, idiocy taking the guise of ideas, business as usual retrofitted as innovation and hallucination poured in large quantities into empty reality to conjure up figures showing return of investment.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J-IUD_haWho/Ta4FSW-fPwI/AAAAAAAAI6s/2NpQIqlRPa8/s1600/6a00d8341c5cc553ef0115712c0245970c-320wi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J-IUD_haWho/Ta4FSW-fPwI/AAAAAAAAI6s/2NpQIqlRPa8/s320/6a00d8341c5cc553ef0115712c0245970c-320wi.jpg" width="276px" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-92152069412291389342011-03-29T15:16:00.000-07:002011-03-29T15:18:38.082-07:00Plato in the Totalitarian Corporate Boardroom<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoTableGrid" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-collapse: collapse; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><tbody>
<tr style="height: 133.35pt;"><td style="height: 133.35pt; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0cm; width: 124.8pt;" valign="top" width="166"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uBqSCaLIP7I/TY9TOIBMLgI/AAAAAAAAAFU/LztLOzcDlHM/s1600/image001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: black; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uBqSCaLIP7I/TY9TOIBMLgI/AAAAAAAAAFU/LztLOzcDlHM/s1600/image001.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(242, 242, 242); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-color: rgb(242, 242, 242); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(242, 242, 242); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(242, 242, 242); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; border-width: initial; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; position: relative;" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"></span></span></div></td><td style="height: 133.35pt; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0cm; width: 262.6pt;" valign="top" width="350"><br />
<h1 align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></i></h1><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;">How the Business World is following the</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;">ideas of Plato</span></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;">Simon van der Wiel</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">(This article is also available from the <a href="http://litmagscroll.blogspot.com/p/wittgensteins-mirror.html">Scroll </a>website)</div></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoTableGrid" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-collapse: collapse; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0cm; width: 267.65pt;" valign="top" width="357"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;">The face looms out of the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif;">decorated poster</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif;"> </span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif;">in a glorious celebration of importance. The eyes look with </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif;">dream filled zealousness</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif;"> into the distant future, a </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 18px;">patchwork of pixels proclaiming the visionary. Below, etched in </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif;">professionally artistic fonts, are some of his sterling quotes, proudly propagated yet magnificently mundane. Side by side, his dreams and life story are strategically dispersed through </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif;">meticulously compiled internal articles.</span></span></td><td style="border-bottom-color: windowtext; border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1pt; border-left-color: windowtext; border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1pt; border-right-color: windowtext; border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1pt; border-top-color: windowtext; border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1pt; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0cm; width: 211.15pt;" valign="top" width="282"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 9pt;">Simon van der Wiel is a fictonal character from Arunabha Sengupta's novel <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Best-Seller-Arunabha-Sengupta/dp/145380398X/" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: #c00000; text-decoration: none;">The Best Seller.</span></a></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 9pt;">Half Dutch, half Irish and brought up in the West Coast, he works for an Indian firm and interacts with Dutch clients.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 9pt;">His blogs dealing with Corporate Circus, some from the novel and some extrapolated from the storyline, can be found at <a href="http://senantixsimon.blogspot.com/" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">Blog of Simple Simon</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
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</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Chairman Mao during the Cultural Revolution?</span></div><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoTableGrid" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-collapse: collapse; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0cm; width: 167.2pt;" valign="top" width="223"></td><td style="padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0cm; width: 150.2pt;" valign="top" width="200"></td><td style="padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0cm; width: 80.7pt;" valign="top" width="108"><br />
</td><td style="padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0cm; width: 80.7pt;" valign="top" width="108"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Not quite. We are referring to the modern day corporate </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">leader. The organisation designated visionary entrepreneur.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">One whose mug shots, borne by a barrage of company mailers, newsletters and affiliated business news publications, violate the more refined of our senses. Whose inane utterances are developed from<br />
scratch through the magic of delegation, jotted down in tearing deadline-defying hurry, typeset in relentless review cycles and dished out in thousands of electronic mails which pop up in the innumerable inboxes till the discerning </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">employee develops distressed digits from continual clicks of shift-delete.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoTableGrid" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-collapse: collapse; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: normal;"><tbody>
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</td><td style="padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0cm; width: 80.7pt;" valign="top" width="108"><br />
</td><td style="padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0cm; width: 80.7pt;" valign="top" width="108"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">"Customer focus is the key for business in the next decade."... "Innovation and thought-leadership will define the new leaders of the industry."</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small; line-height: normal;"></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Harping on unremarkable, universally acknowledged postulates, packaged as visionary proclamations of the all powerful and immensely knowledgeable Philosopher King. In that context, are these too different from "Classes struggle, some classes triumph, others are eliminated " of Mao’s Little Red Book?</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">The striking similarities do not end with the image of an overhyped worshipped leader, zealously protected by internal police from criticism, with embargo on expression of honest thought. The likeness<br />
stretches even beyond the inequality, injustice and deception of the policies that irk all rank and file behind the facade. It goes even beyond the axiomatic assumption of the state – in this case the organisation – being perpetually more important than the individual. Nor is the resemblance restricted to the most scarlet pigment of Red China. Today's large corporate organisations are more like any Totalitarian regime than can be contemplated without a shudder. </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
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</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8dHfXTHYe-8/TY9T5tu4LVI/AAAAAAAAAFc/_UKyfGjON9Q/s1600/image003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: black; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8dHfXTHYe-8/TY9T5tu4LVI/AAAAAAAAAFc/_UKyfGjON9Q/s1600/image003.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(242, 242, 242); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-color: rgb(242, 242, 242); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(242, 242, 242); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(242, 242, 242); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; border-width: initial; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; cursor: move; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; position: relative;" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"></span></div></div></div></td><td style="padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 5.4pt; padding-right: 5.4pt; padding-top: 0cm; width: 80.7pt;" valign="top" width="108"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">The Philosopher King: </span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"> The marauding magic word of modern times is Innovation. Technology continues to evolve at the rate of mega-knots. Trillionaire tycoons –therefore accepted present day philosophers – vouch for business at the rate speed of thought. The focus is therefore on Innovation and Thought-Leadership. Hence, the different corporate organisations that conduct business in the time tested way of hiring out resources at lowest of low rates have to project themselves as factories doling out trendsetting ideas, packaging out of box thoughts in a moronic oxymoron.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">As a corollary, people who have, often unthinkingly, climbed to their pinnacles of these organisations have the mantle of remarkable thinkers and visionaries thrust upon them. And through the propaganda machinery of newsletters, blogs, websites, information sharing portals, knowledge management<br />
systems, podcasts, in house tweets, domestic electronic walls and external pandering to news agencies, the hastily donned manufactured greatness wraps itself tightly around them in the short term memory that rules the times.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">In a tailor made way, this fits the goal of the grand </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">Corpocratic illusion. These companies essentially run on hordes who have to be </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">fuelled by a vision of something more – or radically different – than the harsh</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">ground truth of being sold cheap. So, it is apt for the leaders to be projected as beings with knowledge and understanding that elude the common. The normal employee can only hope to gauge an imperfect approximation of their superior intelligence through the flickering shadows of reality and the reverberations of propaganda as they remain chained to their confining cubicles in the eerie<br />
corporate equivalent of Plato's Cave.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">The wisdom of the Philosopher King cannot be doubted, his words the unquestionable truth. Anything to the contrary can lead to public rebuke or banishment.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">The maximisation of authority is linked to a great extent to supernatural mystical capacity to convert the massaged and mundane data from the floor, using the alchemy of positional power, into the gold dust that adorns the landscape of projected future.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">The Tribal Society </span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">The world becomes flatter, contracted through the process of tying the ends together with fibre optic cables. Even as globalisation makes itself more and more apparent, the corporate organisations romping about in this world-wide arena remain undeniably tribal.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E0ykWlF0SXg/TZJZqFgkdUI/AAAAAAAAI1s/-x0DOpMOsQg/s1600/image001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E0ykWlF0SXg/TZJZqFgkdUI/AAAAAAAAI1s/-x0DOpMOsQg/s400/image001.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Anyone who has jumped through the hoops of corporate circus will identify with the last paragraph of the last section. In complete indifference to the stark actuality that is painted in unmistakable patterns by the ebbs and eddies of regular work, when facts bubble up to the stratospheric abode of the organisational demi gods, they are washed clean of the ugly smudges of reality.<br />
They undergo a metamorphosis in keeping with the wishful thinking of privileged minds. There are certain norms that go with the dictates of the top management, certain elaborate vision and mission rolled out with singular purpose. Little things like truth cannot tamper with their unwavering, unquestionable vision. In fact, as we shall see later, the reality is not true. </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Chairman Mao could never admit the atrocious failure of the steel industry during the Great Leap Forward. Idi Amin pampered his guests with Scottish accordion music while dressed in a kilt himself even as people<br />
died in hordes across the Ugandan nation. In the more antiseptic air-conditioned corridors of a corporate organisation, the same delusion plays on the leaders when their grandiose plans show unmistakable signs of being derailed into the realms of the Quixotic.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">This inability to understand the differences between normative and actual laws of the world uniquely characterises tribalism. The refined fanaticism that manifests itself in the corporate police in defending the<br />
proclaimed norms against criticism shows glimpses of semi-religious fervour of demon worship.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Parallels with tribalism do not end with this. Ritualistic chants and dances exist in the form of regular meetings, status reports, dashboards, circulated metrics, process verification checks and power lunches.<br />
All these are activities that hardly ever lead to any tangible benefit but create an esoteric tribal bonding in the name of company culture.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">As in any tribal system, there is an inherent compulsion to invest heavily in forming a closed society. Corporations carelessly cross frontiers of professionalism and tolerance levels in the attempt to create mutual family feeling. Thus, company family is a much harped and hated concept, a continual effort to make the boundaries between the office and family life and feelings as fuzzy as possible.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">We increasingly find attempts to create an enclosed microcosm which tries to replicate the attractive aspects of the external world within the organisational boundary. Musical events, sporting fests, internal<br />
newsletters featuring interviews of bigwigs, mutual back scratching in blogs and other social networking platforms... It is an effort at creating self sufficient small world which breeds its own tribal allegiance.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">It is a common enough trend to be unable to contemplate a change of workplace after organisational bonding creeps into the psyche of individuals for a considerable period. With time, there is an increased reluctance to accept the possibility of an external world beyond the boundaries of an organisation from professional as also social aspects. For people accustomed to this environment, it becomes increasingly difficult to break away from the ancient lures of comfort feel and mutual support. All these initiatives of<br />
extending the family feeling in corporate organisations are but veiled attempts at promoting tribal affiliation. </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">None of the corporations that become huge are quite planned that way. Companies more or less always rise by chance, retrofitting the happy turns of probabilistic coincidences into successful vision and strategy. The bigger they get, more is the risk of exposure of employees to open communities, the greater<br />
the danger of esoteric policies being put under the scanner of an extended worldview and, hence, more is the resistance to change. So, the bigger they grow, we find increasing number of initiatives that try to lower the opaque canopy of tribalism around their widening walls.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">A year or so earlier, I informed my boss about bagging another opportunity in Europe after being particularly pissed with the uncertainty that surrounded my job in Amsterdam. I could see the tribal king unravel in front of me, peeling off one layer of superficial sophistication after another, till the primordial headiness of unquestioned authority lay bare on his face. I had committed the unpardonable crime of deserting the clan and moving elsewhere. I was told that had I proved unwavering in my allegiance, I could<br />
have been the<i> Last Man Standing in Amsterdam</i>.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">Be it mirroring the Wild West or the ethnic inhabitants of </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">the Polynesian Islands, rule of the tribal lord is very rampant. </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Totalitarianism and tribalism indeed go hand in hand.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Plato's Idea of a Corporation? </span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">I would go further and state that many of the Corporate policies, sometimes documented and more often unwritten, are strikingly similar to Plato's idea of a Republic. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">It is a good place to pause and dampen the jubilant exclamations that may emanate from the corpo-philic at the invocation of the name of an intellectual giant and his seminal work. In lines of the pop-management-philosophical lines of Sun Tzu’s Art of War and Confucian Analects, Plato's Republic should<br />
in no way be mistaken as a guideline for ideal management. Compiled largely as a reaction to the major democratic changes of his times, it is, in more ways than one, a colossal propaganda for totalitarianism. Plato, according to respected schools of thought, was plagued by the strain of democracy and hankered after the bygone days of tribal certainty and steadiness of life.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u9lM0cqerCo/TY9Ux4Rk1tI/AAAAAAAAAFg/52BkEpxrfYs/s1600/image004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: black; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u9lM0cqerCo/TY9Ux4Rk1tI/AAAAAAAAAFg/52BkEpxrfYs/s320/image004.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(242, 242, 242); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-color: rgb(242, 242, 242); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(242, 242, 242); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(242, 242, 242); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; border-width: initial; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; cursor: move; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"></span></div></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 11px;">Photo: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 11px;">Chiranthan</span></div></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">One of the many recommendations of the great Greek thinker that has become unmistakably mirrored in the industry is to destroy family values, lest it interfere with the duties to the state.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">How many times have we come across neglected spouses and children, and sacrificed social occasions at the altar of deadlines and escalations? And how often have we witnessed the employees honoured as the<br />
model worker – another term shockingly lifted from Maoist China – for carrying out such sacrifices, thus creating a company culture and competition in familial negligence? Family is a threat which has to be innovatively converted into opportunity. And one way out is for the word to be identified with the greater<br />
company circle, as discussed in the earlier section.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">One of the favoured reuses of a Plato masterpiece of manipulation in the corporate world is in the distinction between the individual and the team player. This is where we witness the great mind indulging in subtle artifice with words.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Plato defined the totalitarian morality by linking good with whatever is good for the state. Translated into the jargon of modern day corporations it is equivalent to value-adds or best practices which benefit the<br />
organisation. </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"> While this itself is not remotely as axiomatic as he made it sound, his genius was evident when he delicately denounced individualistic advancements by equating them with egoism while glorifying collaborative thought as altruism. Thus to him, whatever is carried out for the benefit of the whole is by definition good, whereas individual goal is selfish and therefore harmful. Whoever cannot sacrifice himself and his desires for the benefit of the bigger picture is undesirable.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Even in an era that supposedly thrives on innovation, this particular concept is almost axiomatic to the archetypical organisation. Radical thinking almost never makes it through the layers and layers of<br />
bureaucratic approvals. There is an inherent compulsion to rein in individualistic thought, and if that is not possible, to obtain Intellectual Property Rights for the same. More often than not, free thinking individuals are branded with attitude problem, while the herd that follows the narrow path<br />
of convention are hailed as team players. Thought-leadership, save a few exceptions, constitutes canned stale ideas packaged in new, glossy containers. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">All this makes sense to the Platonic ideal, where the yielding masses, lubricated by totalitarian morality, can act as the best cogs in the corporate machinery. To promote smooth operation, it is desirable for the nuts and bolts to change positions as rarely as possible. Hence it is made difficult for a normal employee to reach the level of the Philosopher King and his consorts.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Plato also engineered the prototype of the boorish manager – the watchdog defending corporate morality. According to his celebrated discussions, dogs can be ideally bred to keep sheep in order, snarl and attack strangers while being the soul of deference to the master. The people in Plato's ideal state – and therefore in the derived corporate world – are cattle who need skilled herdsman-ship.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Not too long ago did a modern day managerial guru of a major Indian corporation go on record bettering the Platonic benchmark, "Engineers are like vegetables. We can buy and sell them any time we want to." Plato at least dreamt of happy citizens, an unnecessary overhead that corporations can do without. Hence, we find preference for more subdued and stationary plant life.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">What Plato’s laws presuppose is what the managements swear by – the organisation can judge the individual, but judgement cannot flow the other way without tipping the hierarchical balance. A fool-proof formula for the higher management to be elevated into god-players. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">The corporation is, therefore, always placed higher than the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">individual – something which is taken for granted by corporate drones and </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">managers alike, without really waking up to the underlying naked fascism</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">indicated by the statement. However, such a conclusion is hardly earth shattering. Fascism in its turn is defined as the ideology to organise a nation according to corporatist values.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">To drive home the totalitarian authority of the corporation, another Plato tenet becomes a favourite mission statement of corpocracy. Fitting the Republic-an directives into the corpocratic form, it can be<br />
rephrased as: whether they manage by or without law, over willing or unwilling employees, whether they purge the company by laying off or transferring, as long as they proceed according to justice and preserve the organisation and make it better, this form of management must be declared the only one that is<br />
right. </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Corporate Totalitarian Justice based on Plato's framework </span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">If we are buoyed by the reference to justice, let us take a closer look at the concept according to Plato's ideas. Doing so, we unearth untold wealth of wisdom which in fact powers the corporate value system.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Justice, as outlined in the Republic, is a surprisingly blatant argument against equality and freedom. And if we pause to consider the same concepts in the light of the current day, we find them taken for granted in the social fabric, yet ridiculously defiled under the juggernaut of corporations.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Republic works on the assumption that different individuals are by nature unequal. By corollary, equality for all begets inequality. Hence it makes sense for different privileges, including authority and education, for different classes. And in flourishing rhetoric, this was presented as the just course, because according to the Platonic theory of justice, the sole purpose of citizens is to maintain the stability of the state.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Again, transforming the argument into the totalitarian tenets of the corporation, we discover amazing congruence. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">Till around the turn of the century, when the obvious benefits </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">of the internet made it absolutely ridiculous, in a lot of organisations </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">web browsing had been the privilege of a chosen few. Till today, performance </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">appraisals are carried out with preference for those who indulge in just that </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">amount of self development that is optimal for the role he plays in the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">organisation. The desire to cut and trim individuals down to the size of the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">cogs which facilitate operations is evident in every policy and procedure.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Additionally, there is the almost esoteric, mythical knowledge that remains in the highest echelons of the organisation, passed down to the favourites of the demi-gods on a strictly need to know basis. The tree of knowledge has always brought about the downfall of the mortal man who has not known better than to step into the territory of the God.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Transforming Plato’s Republic into the organisation, rules are designed to bring about welfare of the company, fitting the employees into one unit, by persuasion or force. Plato’s idea of justice was synonymous to whatever was best for the state – which in corporate terms can be rephrased as,<br />
whatever suits the purpose of the organisation.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Finally, we need to focus on how the life-blood, the <i>prana</i>, the sustaining chi of corporations owe its origin to the genius of Plato. We are referring to the global phenomenon of celebrated corporate bullshit.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">If one is unfortunate enough to delve deep into colossal crap that passes for senior management propaganda, it becomes obvious that following the footsteps of the great Greek authoritarian, organisations too use the technique of dramatic devices, lulling the critical faculties of the employees<br />
into stupor, even as they propagate their selfish agenda while ostensibly promoting justice for all. It is the ancient use of oratory to divert attention from the intellectual poverty of propagated piece of fluff.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Deception </span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Plato promotes deception as a favoured tool of the leader. In his vision, the philosopher king is a healer of the society – in our case the organisation. Just like the medical man, he is armed with the license to lie. At the same time, similar ruse, if detected in people not in the position of leaders, is a punishable offence. </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-64ig8SKUdJI/TY9dRJ0v75I/AAAAAAAAAFk/-kAeD6z656Q/s1600/Truth-Lies.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: black; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="208" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-64ig8SKUdJI/TY9dRJ0v75I/AAAAAAAAAFk/-kAeD6z656Q/s320/Truth-Lies.gif" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(242, 242, 242); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-color: rgb(242, 242, 242); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(242, 242, 242); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(242, 242, 242); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; border-width: initial; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976563) 1px 1px 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; position: relative;" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">The corporate equivalents of totalitarian deception principles must be self evident. When it comes to fabrication on the part of senior management, the binding thread dangles clearly.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">To cap it all, Plato pronounces three laws of deception that redefine the concept of truth – the echo of which reverberate till this day inside meeting rooms and corporate cubicles.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"> One – Installation of rites and gods is the privilege of the great thinker. Down the ages, the adjective has frayed and decayed to fit the implied grandeur into the crammed corporate quarters. But when applied to<br />
designation rather than faculties of reason, the manifesto rings as true as ever.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Two – Authority must suppress all doubts about any part of the politico-religious dogma. He advocates severest punishment for even honest, honourable people if their opinions concerning the (demi)gods vary from that of the state. Not recanting or repeating the offense is death – which can be translated variously into the termination, sack or the pink slip.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">And finally the pivotal third – Anything that serves the interest of the authority is the truth. There is no other criterion. A remarkable sentence that strips truth of the virtue of universal unconditionality. It is in this defining clause that we find corporate organisations to be eerily similar to totalitarian regimes.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Lies, said the great philosopher, are necessary to carry the herd to its perfection. Plato may have been misguided in his pronouncements, but he did retain a modicum of Socratic ethics. Hence, he openly admitted that he was lying. Corporate leaders, sadly, remain blissfully ignorant of such and<br />
other principles. Not too many of them are aware of the teachings of either Plato or Socrates anyway. These lessons have lived on, in the tribal tradition of comfort feel, as defence mechanism in the face of growing openness.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Why do Leaders Suck </span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">How is it that we always find ourselves in this kind of an unavoidable rut when we work for a big organisation? Why do corporations unwaveringly and systematically suck?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">One of the reasons is the close circle of leadership and succession. The authoritarian will generally select those who obey, who believe in his lies or pretend to do so, and who respond favourably to his influence.<br />
And, in doing so, he is almost bound to select mediocrities. He invariably excludes those who revolt, resist or doubt his influence. Never can totalitarian authority admit the intellectually courageous.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Authorities will claim to, and remain convinced of their ability to, detect initiative, proactiveness and innovation in people, but what they are quick to notice is the tendency of questioning authority and nothing more. </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Demands of corporate hierarchy enhance this vice. Those who dare to think for themselves are generally court-martialled and eliminated through charges of attitude problem and insubordination. Those who are good in following are seldom ones to be the harbingers of positive reform. The Man Friday of a party leader is seldom a capable successor. Institutional identification of leaders and emerging superstars are actually excellent for the purpose of arresting change and increasing the rule of the incompetent. An excellent process of filtering out actual innovation and ability to think for oneself.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Additionally there is the perennial problem of utopian engineering – that of the dictator’s successor. Even a true visionary cannot ensure that all his visions are implemented by his circle of command and his<br />
successor. This is inevitable, since large numbers by definition imply mediocrity.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">What lies ahead?</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"> In the guise of consulting companies, we find the modern day equivalents of Plato’s political artist. Those jargon-chanting tribal priests who study the organisation and trim it down through rationalising recommendations in the alleged quest of guiding the company to its ideal performing form. Which is one more way of selling crap, selling short term benefits and ROIs packaged in sparkling jargon.<br />
However, the livelihoods of human beings cannot be tampered with for the sake of artistically beautiful bullshit. One cannot clamour like Archimedes for a place to stand outside the world in order to lever it away to a better position. The organisational engineer has to do his bit by standing shoulder to<br />
shoulder with the people who are the cogs that run the profit making machinery. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Plato demanded rule of the wise or sophocracy. With the passage of time, it has degenerated into idiocracy or corpocracy. According to Immanuel Kant the king becoming philosopher or the philosopher king is not likely to happen, nor would it be desirable, since the possession of power invariably debases the free judgement of reason.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Karl Popper, the most brutal of all critics of Plato’s totalitarian arguments, goes a step further. He is candid in his statement that behind the sovereignty of the philosopher king lies naked quest for power, Plato’s own personal ambitions. The age old sham of professing love for freedom while nursing own dreams of power plays on in the so called visionary leadership of today’s corporate world.. .</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">At the end of the day, corpocracy is nothing but totalitarian </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">power. All power corrupts and absolute power is devastating in its corruption. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">This is a natural law that outlasts the make believe normative laws preached by </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">the high priests of totalitarian propaganda. And, somehow, the insignificant </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">cogs need to roll on without being crushed beyond recognition by the ever </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px;">expanding corporate vehicle. How then does one survive? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">Not all can afford to get off the moving machinery without leaving means of livelihood in the sinister yet sustaining system. And one cannot change the machinery without getting sucked into the corrupting power - thus ending up resisting change, or arranging a corporate coup - which takes enormous amount of organisation time and energy, most of which can be better used if one does not lack a life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13.5pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">The only way out of this problem, unfortunate as it is, seems to be to adjust expectations from corpocracy, preparing oneself to withstand the shocks and stutters of the worst possible leadership.</span></div>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-16514323196475404122011-02-27T02:28:00.000-08:002011-02-27T02:33:16.237-08:00Deming's First Principle, the Red Light District and Management TruthsAs I have often noted in the pages of this blog, I am the Dutch interface of the organization. (I have also voiced this same opinion in the now famed <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Best-Seller-Arunabha-Sengupta/dp/145380398X/">The Best Seller</a></i> - which as of today ranks in Amazon as one of the leading Financial Crisis Best Sellers).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-L089uQj33l8/TWogCvnn0DI/AAAAAAAAIzo/YHOllBZ2uvI/s1600/deming.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-L089uQj33l8/TWogCvnn0DI/AAAAAAAAIzo/YHOllBZ2uvI/s1600/deming.jpg" /></a></div>At least that was the intention with which I was hired - to provide the Indian firm a local liaison while dealing with the Dutch bankers, as well as an internal window with an excellent view into the culture and traditions of life in Netherlands. Ever since joining, however, I have been preparing dashboards and reports by the celebrated EOD, seldom venturing beyond a smile and a handshake with the important Dutch clients. And in spite of the new insights into the culture I have supposedly brought in, the company continues to prepare new employees from India for the surprises of Holland with the same seven slide power point presentation crammed with windmills, clogs, cycles, canals and tulips.<br />
<br />
Well, one reason for this apparent discord between intent and eventuality can be detected in the perennially increasing number of status reports that always seem to be in demand accentuated with the self delusional refusal to acknowledge the need of hiring additional people.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">For managers, Status Reports seem to be the be all and end all of management. The other day I ran into an Indian professional visiting Amsterdam on business who lamented, <i>“Will the speed of the Earth ever change if we appoint somebody to monitor it and give regular status updates? ... Now who will explain that to the corporate managers, his managers and his up-lines?”</i> Mr. Suman Dasgupta, if only we had more people with your worldly wisdom.</div><div><br />
</div><br />
Once or twice, during the bilateral sessions with my line manager, I have brought this up, but my arguments have been brushed aside with a carefree wave of high positioned hand, softened by a smile of assurance.<br />
“Simon, the Dutch speak very good English and we don’t feel your language skills are required in our interactions. But, we appreciate your suggestions and will look for opportunities to use your expertise. Right now, your presence itself is an asset – and we really need those reports you are preparing. You are good at it."<br />
<br />
Well, if I continue to analyse the events leading to my joining the firm, I detect yet another reason for this strange derailment of my role. The manager who had conducted my interview and had processed the hiring formalities had been relocated to Zurich within a week of my joining. The Dutch connection related to my hiring had probably left the country with him. It demonstrates a definite lack of constancy of purpose in the management, in direct conflict with the first principle of Dr. Edward Deming. And in this industry that totters and survives by banking on knee jerk reactions, this principle is often kicked away with ignorant disdain.<br />
<br />
Let me illustrate this with the point made by the Line Manager. The Dutch clients speak decent English, and hence the Indians can carry on the business without undesirable hiccups.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Ju0pSPkCke8/TWogMQQdz4I/AAAAAAAAIzs/vh-szTT2so8/s1600/RLD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Ju0pSPkCke8/TWogMQQdz4I/AAAAAAAAIzs/vh-szTT2so8/s200/RLD.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>First of all, I don’t subscribe to this line of reasoning. Not all the people working in the bank are that comfortable with English, especially some of the important people who are in their fifties.Even a stuttering dialogue in their mother tongue will definitely go a long way towards winning their heart and thereby encroaching into their pockets. If not the entire workforce of the firm working in the Netherlands, the few super important people known as the account managers, who are entrusted with growing business, would be much better off by working their way to simple Dutch, even mastering a pidgin variety. However, I witness none of these eminent employees garnering the time or inclination to pick up even a few basic sentences of the language.<br />
<br />
If I contrast this with the oldest profession, there are some striking contrasts. Girls from Bosnia, Slovenia, Chile, Thailand and other exotic and remote places who carry on their variety of body-shopping in the Red Light District of Amsterdam become reasonably fluent in Dutch and English within a very few days. Granted, they have the advantage of Dutch fluids passing into them for every successful business transaction, but looking at it with some twists and turns of angles, the account managers do come just as close to the local Nether-lands during their negotiations.<br />
<br />
At the same time, in the time honoured traditions of the industry manure, apart from growing the account, it is the responsibility of the high and mighty members of the local branch of the company to come up with <i>visionary strategy and innovations to enable smarter business with value-adds</i>. While growth is taken care of by cramming in more people at cheaper rates, vintage old wine in jargon cloaked new bottles generally make up the <i>innovative suggestions for improving synergy and continuous improvement</i>. With headquarters in a country that considers bull-shit to be sacred, this ideas generated often constitute an omnibus of corporate crap. During the process, however, someone did point out the necessity of developing Dutch language skills to communicate with the clients. And this is where Deming was stopped ruthlessly in the middle of his first of fourteen principles.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CcuxsZhzvq8/TWogYprmzII/AAAAAAAAIzw/h7ZEr1HS3Yk/s1600/employeetraining1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CcuxsZhzvq8/TWogYprmzII/AAAAAAAAIzw/h7ZEr1HS3Yk/s200/employeetraining1.gif" width="199" /></a></div>The language development suggestion was indeed taken up as a management goal by the decision makes back home. A defining moment when Deming would have smiled if the purpose had been written down in large letters as follows – <i>EFFECTIVE DUTCH COMMUNICATION SKILLS FOR EMPLOYEES IN AMSTERDAM.</i><br />
<br />
However, when this was passed as a directive to the regional manager in Amsterdam, and he made a new version of the goal – <i>People need to be trained in Dutch, but I can only spare a ridiculously small amount of money for this curious whim of powers that be. </i>Let us call this <b>Purpose version 2</b>.<br />
<br />
The ball was passed to the Academy department in Continental Europe, who promptly framed their version of the purpose as – <i>Dutch Language Certifications needed for 20 employees this quarter with the approved budget which is an atrociously stingy budget.</i> <b>Purpose version 3</b>.<br />
Hence, the next step for the Academy was to find out a suitably cheap institute who would teach 20 people at this atrociously small amount – with the added caveat of generating certifications within 3 months. Most of the prominent language schools laughed off the suggestion in the traditional straightforward Dutch way that the Windmill and Clog oriented Academy personnel had been entirely unprepared for. Finally, they zeroed in on a seedy outfit with little or no proven track record, who haggled and asked for more if they were to go with the sham. Hence, the Academy racked their brains to come up with a multiple brownie point winning innovation. The reimbursement rule was modified. The company would now pay 80% of the course including the cost of the books.<br />
<br />
A mailer was thus drafted, announcing Dutch lessons for a very economic price which would be largely reimbursed by the Academy Department. Seats were limited, so could managers nominate people as fast as possible? The mailer was distributed across mailboxes of managers in various accounts of Amsterdam and Utrecht, with graphics and passionate vision statements hinting at commitment to relentless quest of business enhancing knowledge.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-sjaCnsrAsRE/TWoglNSDQ2I/AAAAAAAAIz0/Q_xrDZDsGxs/s1600/14principles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-sjaCnsrAsRE/TWoglNSDQ2I/AAAAAAAAIz0/Q_xrDZDsGxs/s200/14principles.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>The managers had also received the directive which designated Dutch language skill development of their resources as one of their Key Responsibility Areas. They rushed to fill in the seats with the employees reporting to them before seats ran out.<br />
However, who could they spare for two evenings every week? With programs to be written and dashboards to be painted green with metronomic regularity? They handpicked some of the not so important reportees, mostly junior programmers with minimum interaction with the client, many of whom were not fully utilised, on the verge of going back to India. Their goal? <i>Try to send as many guys for the training from my group as possible while not impacting business because of these peculiar directives from some senior manager sitting far far away.</i> <b>Purpose version 4.</b><br />
<br />
Now what about the blokes who were nominated? Most of them would rather spend the evenings sipping beer in a bar, walking along the windows decorated with girls from Bosnia, Slovenia, Chile and Thailand in the Red Light District, a few engaging their services, while a lot would rather be sitting at home surfing porn. Most of them, with an exception here and there, had absolutely no intention of learning a language which was not spoken anywhere outside the Netherlands and some weird places like Surinam and Aruba. Their goal? <i>Try to stay awake and attend just the requisite number of classes to ensure that the certificate is not withheld. Besides, put the Dutch diploma in the year end appraisal form to gain some brownie points. </i><b>Purpose version 5.</b> The efficient Academy had already ensured that an exit test was not required for the diploma.<br />
<br />
Well, in the end, twenty guys attended two classes a week for three months and nineteen of them got the certificates.<br />
<br />
Academy proudly announced that they had met 95% of their goal by making 19 people trained in Dutch Language skills.<br />
<br />
The Project Managers could now balance their goals by toting up the number of diplomas won by their respective lionhearted reportees. <br />
<br />
The unfortunate attendees, ears ringing with the intricacies of the guttural Dutch <i>g</i>, could now fill their appraisal sheets, proudly showcasing screenshots of their diplomas.<br />
<br />
The Regional Manager came to know that 19 people had been trained in Dutch, and patted himself on the back for his enforcement skills which would probably go miles in developing the Netherlands business centre.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-GZZPD9nqBfI/TWohTNMv7yI/AAAAAAAAIz8/xclOSTVI1BM/s1600/demong+cycle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-GZZPD9nqBfI/TWohTNMv7yI/AAAAAAAAIz8/xclOSTVI1BM/s200/demong+cycle.jpg" width="176" /></a></div>The Senior Management sat back in their offshore offices with relaxed smiles, looking proudly at the announcement bearing mail that popped up, amazed at their own vision and foresight at making this happen. They were the trailblazing innovators who could turn the fortunes of the company and the industry yardsticks on their heads with supreme thought leadership from thousands of miles away. They would soon be visiting the Dutch-land to admire the outcome of their landmark brainchild.<br />
<br />
Knowledge of Dutch would soon enter the portfolio of capabilities advertised by the company, the appropriate description of the same changing from 'rudimentary' to 'excellent' in the course of review and approval cycle.<br />
<br />
A sizeable representative sample of the nineteen, however, were equally at sea when I asked them, <i>“Hoe gaat het?”</i> or <i>“Hoe is je Nederlands?”</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
So, obviously the question is what will happen when new customers are swayed into engaging our services based on our <i>excellent Dutch communication skills</i>?<br />
<br />
Well, as far as I see it, someone like me will be recruited ASAP ... By the time the new person would join the firm, the customer focus would change rapidly, with visionary synergies quickly traded for penny cringing and fire fighting. Hence, I will soon have a Dutch colleague filling up reports and creating dashboards.<br />
<br />
W. Edward Deming talked of his 14 principles and lent his name to the Plan Do Check Act cycle. But the industry has succeeded in tackling him right at the first principle, endorsing its versatility by ignoring the tenet of constancy of purpose, and has created its own vicious cycle.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-s4wXUqdsbCc/TWogs8MISQI/AAAAAAAAIz4/o3RVG1j-IL0/s1600/Constancy+of+Purpose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-s4wXUqdsbCc/TWogs8MISQI/AAAAAAAAIz4/o3RVG1j-IL0/s1600/Constancy+of+Purpose.jpg" /></a></div>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-61521377638033339262011-02-20T04:20:00.000-08:002011-02-21T05:06:25.201-08:00Schopenhauer and Vedanta to explain Meetings and Innovation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bMs1TXu3LyE/TWEAA_htbDI/AAAAAAAAIys/dj5SCg7JaPE/s1600/schop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bMs1TXu3LyE/TWEAA_htbDI/AAAAAAAAIys/dj5SCg7JaPE/s200/schop.jpg" width="162" /></a></div>Our company is back to doing excellent business now that the credit crisis has blown itself away. By that I mean it is again stepping back into the excellent mode of plugging in manpower at the lowest of low costs to take over the most mundane of client activities. And hence it is that period of time when one can hardly open one’s mailbox without being hit between the hapless eyes by mailers of numerous nasty innovative initiatives. <br />
<br />
From the HR, to the administration, to the COE groups pathologically steeped in collective Narcissism, everyone is expected to bring in often Quixotic measures that squander hefty amounts in the name of instant innovation. As Plato had observed even in those ancient days, “<i>Most changes arise from abundance, from an accumulation of wealth which makes dangerous experiments possible.</i>”<br />
<br />
All this could have passed me by as the idle wind which bothers me not, but for the compulsion of the Senior Managers and Vice Presidents to come galloping in to the various locations and try to mould a motivating dough by sprinkling news-nuggets of innovation-initiatives over the time which lies heavy on their exalted hands. These lead to meetings, meetings and more meetings, mandatory presence required, making the process of earning one’s daily bread more painful than one cares it to be.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uev8erxeKhs/TWEA88g8ZLI/AAAAAAAAIyw/9AjmmTAKyfE/s1600/MardeR0045s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uev8erxeKhs/TWEA88g8ZLI/AAAAAAAAIyw/9AjmmTAKyfE/s200/MardeR0045s.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Luckily, I have countered this into an answer to the age old question of finding time to stand and stare. Meetings are those periods which, with a suitably modified point of view, can be retrofitted into a gift of time. A hour or two to do the much needed thinking that is increasingly difficult as life rushes us by in the modern manic speed. It is a forum that can be tweaked as meditation, where the sole distraction is the painful inanity mouthed by the ridiculously high-positioned imbeciles who herd us in to the conference room. And using a technique taught by master Subramanium, I can get over the painful discomfort by concentrating on the very words of the speaker as if they are some ritualistic, repeated mantra for the mind to rest - as indeed, thinking about it from some angles, they indeed are.<br />
<br />
Subramanium is a master of tai chi, karate and yoga. And while my formal lessons with him have always been exhilarating sessions of tai chi chuan, time and again, he has passed on some excellent concepts of yoga. There are people, many of them like me heralding from the Western way of life, who find it difficult to assume the sitting posture needed for Indian yogic meditation. Whether cross legged in the lotus position or folded knees in the diamond or thunderbolt form, there is often painful discomfort which tend to get in the way of the calm mind. And this is where Subramanium taught me the method of concentrating on the pain to make it bearable, and also thus transforming it into a mind calming technique.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lpNGzAY2qc4/TWEBL7l08EI/AAAAAAAAIy4/QI78uOLthkw/s1600/innovation3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lpNGzAY2qc4/TWEBL7l08EI/AAAAAAAAIy4/QI78uOLthkw/s320/innovation3.jpg" width="318" /></a></div>Today, the Senior Manager waxed eloquent on the numbers that showed growth in productivity like never before – making him bullish about the future. He displayed some excellent charts and graphs on the whiteboard, beamed in by divine light of the overhead projector. All the figures had been accumulated by the new cutting edge tool – a novel landmark in the innovation culture of the organisation – which almost sniffed out the effort and output figures of the employees as they went about their daily job. This sort of tool made us the pioneers of thought-leadership, the forerunners among idea mongers who would eventually rewrite the industrial history in near future and lend a new proactive twist to the global thought-scape with their futuristic brainwaves ... Well, judging by the extenuating excrement that was the man’s speech, I had no doubt that he was indeed feeling bullish.<br />
<br />
Well, a couple of weeks back, the team got the innovative shock that it had to install this cutting edge tool and fill up the time recording system before the proverbial Friday EOD. The catch was that the tool was a monstrous patchwork created in tearing hurry for the comfort feel of layers and layers of senior, regular and assistant managers, coded by a bunch of fresh, green, disinterested out of college developers eager to get away to the multiplex and disco bar, who were nevertheless the only ones cheap enough to indulge in unbilled in-house work. As a result, it could not be installed on any machine without bringing notebooks, desktops and sometimes entire networks to a coma. If by heaven’s grace they managed to pop up as an executable icon on a fortunate machine, it refused to run - often necessitating the age old remedy of Ctrl, Alt and Del to enable normal services to resume reluctantly.<br />
<br />
So, it was the time for quick workarounds, something our firm genuinely excels at. An office application was created in a hurry which directly plugged the data into the backend database of the tool. A spreadsheet was hastily drawn up which stated how many hours each employee had worked in the past month. This file contained ideal data, created in a secluded cubicle in an IT Park of Bangalore, with no input from or connection to what was actually being done in faraway Amsterdam. All the employees shared their network password to an unfortunate soul who had drawn the short straw and was to spend a full day typing in the figures for everyone to ensure <i>individual </i>data ended up being submitted. Several security policies of the company were carelessly ignored and rampantly trampled upon, but the data was in place, showed improvement, made the senior manager bullish, and now was being presented to us as a remarkable demonstration of innovation.<br />
<br />
Painful, if you see through the facade. Our innovative attempt at confabulated crap thrown back at us as processed nuggets of senior management bull shit. Yet, by concentrating on this pain, I gained many insights that are possible only through contemplation and meditation.<br />
<br />
The Senior Manager worked following the principles of Schopenhauer. The <i>World </i>for him was nothing but <i>Will and Representation.</i> Reality was but a series of perceptions. These perceptions were not borrowed from the results of experience, but, <i>au contraire,</i> reality as represented depended on the will or desire or wishful thinking of the great man. The representation was the mental image of reality that he liked to believe in and had convinced himself of. Having reached that level of satori when the duality between truth and lies become fuzzy and non-existent.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S842QhX7yhk/TWEBgId4nII/AAAAAAAAIzA/l2D8MwYa2xA/s1600/innovation4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S842QhX7yhk/TWEBgId4nII/AAAAAAAAIzA/l2D8MwYa2xA/s1600/innovation4.jpg" style="cursor: move;" /></a>The great Schopenhauer acknowledged the ancient Indian wisdom which called it <i>Maya</i>, the veil of deception which covers the eyes of the mortals, and causes them to see a world of which one cannot say either that<i> it is</i> or that<i> it is not</i>. It is like a dream, like the sunshine on the sand which the traveller from a distance takes to be water.<br />
<br />
Schopenhauer does warn that <i>if in the representation of perception illusion distorts reality, then the abstract error can reign for thousands of years, impose its iron yoke on nations, stifle the noblest impulses of mankind, through its slaves and dupes it can enchain even the man it cannot deceive</i>. Replacing nation by industry and thousand by the short term corporate equivalent of ten, five or even one, we shudder at the resonance with which the words ring true in the cubicular world.<br />
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</a></div>The wisdom of this great eighteenth century philosopher makes itself evident in the warped world of corporate existence full of Senior Management meetings in many other ways.<br />
While these may be the subject of future blogs, I would like to leave the readers with a few striking thoughts.<br />
<br />
Once my meditations ended with the ritual dance of meetings coming to an end<i> (the shimmer of complying laughter, the rhythmic nods, the combined burst of laughter, the same earmarked virtuoso dancers getting into step, raising their hands, mouthing their stereotypical questions – and then the final words, the smiles in unison, the synchronised rise from the seats, the shake of important and privileged hands and then the departure followed by harmonious relaxation of postures) </i> I looked up some of the works of the thinker.<br />
<br />
So many of them make sense when thought of in context of the Senior Manager.<br />
<br />
<i>“It is difficult to keep quiet if you have nothing to do”</i><br />
<i>“The more unintelligent a man is, the less mysterious existence (operations) seem to him”</i><br />
<i>“Will minus intellect constitutes vulgarity.”</i><br />
<br />
And finally, I wonder how farsighted must have been a man to have penned this line without having had to endure any one of the Innovation Pandering Corporate Meetings<br />
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<i>“Life swings like a pendulum backward and forward between pain and boredom”</i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rfTr6jjrYJ8/TWEBXqH0G-I/AAAAAAAAIy8/TY3RSwFH4eY/s1600/will.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rfTr6jjrYJ8/TWEBXqH0G-I/AAAAAAAAIy8/TY3RSwFH4eY/s400/will.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-13127523868836935162011-02-10T13:37:00.000-08:002011-02-11T23:28:27.838-08:00Looking at Corpocracy with Eyes Wide Shut<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2ezqEeVLweo/TVRXpVFq8xI/AAAAAAAAIyI/v7hx__-mb-8/s1600/cruisekidman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2ezqEeVLweo/TVRXpVFq8xI/AAAAAAAAIyI/v7hx__-mb-8/s200/cruisekidman.jpg" width="147" /></a>My famed buddy, with his convoluted consulting techniques, had introduced me to the parallel between classic movies and the corporate world. His idea of a corporate presentation on teamwork, as now famously documented in <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/145380398X/">The Best Seller,</a></i> was to screen the episode <i>What goes on in the Body during an Orgasm</i> from Woody Allen’s <i>Everything You Wanted To Know About Sex</i>.<br />
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A few days back, as I watched <i>Blow Up</i>, the 60s classic movie by Michelangelo Antonioni, I was moved enough by the eerie similarity of the superficial swinging sixties and our office world to write a full fledged blog <a href="http://senantixsimon.blogspot.com/2011/01/blow-up-job.html">post</a> on it. As noted in it, when consulted, my buddy responded saying that it was almost always classic cinema or multiple x-rated ones which reflected the corporate world to perfection on the flickering screens.<br />
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And now, as I watched Stanley Kubrick’s not so glorious effort <i>Eyes Wide Shut</i>, I realised that I had been bitten by this bug. The parallels that I stumbled upon were almost eerie and incredible. And as on so many occasions, my curious friend’s strangest aphorisms found their mark in the most bizarre of ways. <br />
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Perhaps in no other movie in the history of film making have the two genres of classic and carnal been so inseparably intertwined.<br />
While there obviously is more than a hint of an underlying message, the entire movie is a celebration of fascinating female forms with some of the most beautiful breasts ever captured on camera. If there is one readily recognisable genius in Kubrick’s movie making, it is in the astonishing capacity of weaving some sort of a storyline around the abundance of vital statistics, and managing to sneak in a measure of meaningfulness without getting distracted by the fabulous flesh-fare on display.<br />
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The title of the movie itself brings out the essence of our industry. In <i>Blow Up</i>, I had been riveted by the tennis match between the clowns where the audience followed the non-existent ball as the artists pantomimed their way through the game. Here the name <i>Eyes Wide Shut</i> suggested the perpetual state in which we go through the motions, refusing to see through the most glaring of falsehoods, sitting through senior management meetings, vision and mission statements, goal setting and projections, metrics and measurements, sales presentations and appraisal meetings, strategies and innovations ...<br />
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However, as Tom Cruise walked through the film, from one almost sexual encounter to another, and sauntered into the much discussed and written about orgy in the country mansion, my subconscious fishing for a concrete parallel finally felt the jerk of the plot biting the bait.<br />
<br />
In a prolonged scene which has been interpreted as symbolic depiction of decadence, the rich and powerful are shown indulging themselves in an elaborate ritual while hiding behind Venetian masks. Pseudo religious chants play in the background, as the high priest leads the brotherhood with ornate, predefined and accepted gestures. Women, of excellent assets and hidden faces, accompany the masked men and it all ends up in simultaneous tumults of uncensored promiscuity. Cruise moves from room to room to find more and more debauchery going on with fabulous faceless female figures engaged in various stages of fornication with the men of the cult.<br />
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When it is discovered that Tom Cruise has got there without requisite rights, broken ranks and hobnobbed with the screwing society by somehow getting wrongful access to the password, he is brought under trial and tried by the masked high priest of the orgy.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IVE88jEuWg0/TVRXw74mpEI/AAAAAAAAIyM/egHRpkOCZt4/s1600/orgy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IVE88jEuWg0/TVRXw74mpEI/AAAAAAAAIyM/egHRpkOCZt4/s200/orgy.jpg" width="200" /></a>Hiding true selves, elaborate ritualistic sham of sacred rites, cloaking the prostitution of souls and truth under the embellishments of sacramental rules, fooling around with figures under the cloak of ornate importance while achieving nothing other than fustian fucks. Finally, zealously holding on to the exclusivity of decadence, slapping the charges of trespassing on an outsider for daring to step into an area cordoned off as the corridors of power.<br />
<br />
As my brain continues to die from the friction and suffocation of cubicular existence, my entire corporate life seems to be run through my mind. And the just described scene seems to mirror the events in graphic parallel. Board rooms, vision and mission formulae, management talk, motivational speeches, policy and process, defilement of actual facts and figures, hauling people up for attitude problems when the mask seems to slip to reveal the decadent demeanour underneath. The fulsome nakedness of the truth staring at our faces while we focus on the facade of organisational self deception, eyes wide shut and gleefully so.<br />
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</div>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-37718393059724879132011-01-29T11:28:00.000-08:002012-02-06T09:35:01.288-08:00Corporate Family Value System<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TURoyMLgPwI/AAAAAAAAIv0/_IKEpjHLyXg/s1600/officefamily.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TURoyMLgPwI/AAAAAAAAIv0/_IKEpjHLyXg/s200/officefamily.jpg" width="144" /></a></div>My day had got off to a start that I can best describe as ridiculous. Switching on my computer at office, I was greeted by a mail from a manager from India. Apparently a female member of our offshore team was scheduled to have celebrated her daughter’s first birthday with the usual amount of fun filled festivities. She had made all the preparations and had sent out invitations to friends and family. And suddenly a ‘very important’ client audit had come up and this unfortunate lady had volunteered to cancel the ceremony and stay on in office. Daughter’s first birthday was cancelled because of pressing demands at workplace. And the manager’s mail was a flowery, glittering appreciation of her efforts and sacrifice of personal life.<br />
<br />
My senses were not affronted just by the mail – which according to me missed the boundaries of professional etiquette by a good many miles. I was also perplexed by the variety of reactions from my Indian colleagues. While some of the more diplomatic clicked their tongues and made a show of sympathy for the poor girl who had to forego such an important landmark of her daughter’s life, there were others who were downright spiteful. Showcasing commitment by highlighting such domestic sacrifice was not exactly to their liking. As one of the more caustic remarked, “The next mail will be appreciating someone who lent his wife to a horny client for the sake of business relationship.”<br />
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Well, I am quite accustomed to the way the normal Indian office goer reacts when appreciation is showered on their peers. Much of it has to do with there being hardly any other identity in a life that revolves around cubicle space. And, in case this remark is interpreted as culturally insensitive, let me add that I am also aware that back in India there is a lot of competition for daily livelihood and the social situation largely regulates the importance individuals attach to their jobs. At first meetings, I rarely get to know of someone’s hobby, preferences in music or books, but almost always am informed of his or her sphere of professional competence, and sometimes the different financial investments they subscribe to. But, even if I accepted the reactions, the mail itself dragged me quite some distance off my orbit. A couple of Dutch clients seating near us who had been copied on the communication winked amongst themselves and muttered something under their breath which can be loosely translated into English by the phrase – ‘Get a life’.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TURo5EmOnVI/AAAAAAAAIv4/zf2ZLCxSTMQ/s1600/officefamily2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="128" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TURo5EmOnVI/AAAAAAAAIv4/zf2ZLCxSTMQ/s200/officefamily2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>A daughter will have her first birthday just once, and I can hardly think of any of the clerical work that we generally carry out to come close to the importance of that auspicious event. In any case, comparing the two is more than the clichéd apples and oranges – it is more like moon and sixpence. And if anyone exerts her personal choice and prefers the few hours of professional nothingness to the cherished moments of family life, I do not see any reason to glorify it and splash it across unsuspecting mailboxes of almost everyone but the Prime Minister. A responsible management, according to me, has to be aware that any glorification of efforts is a benchmark that the company sets for all the employees. And if neglecting family interests become one of the preferred paths to walk on, it is vulnerable to a lot of risks. One is creating a severely damaging image of the company in the market. Another is pissing people off, which I noticed immediately at first hand. The long term effect is pissing off the families, when zealous employees embark on a cutthroat competition to neglect them. And finally, a lot of employees will be eager to manufacture fictitious birthdays, anniversaries, deaths, funerals, engagements and weddings that they can gleefully and publicly avoid to fill a spreadsheet or browse on the office internet.<br />
<br />
Personally, I would not trust someone who put her job above her daughter’s birthday as far as I can throw a Dutch cow. If she can abandon her baby daughter for something as flimsy as the work we do, she can sell me down the river to upgrade her Windows.<br />
<br />
I was actually relieved that I had the regular pub evening with Dr. Suprakash Roy today. A talk with the curious psychiatrist always works wonders for my mood. He was already there in <i>De Pilsvogel</i>, and raised his hand to beckon me as I entered.<br />
<br />
“It may be an odd question coming from a psychiatrist, but is there something on your mind?” he asked as I dropped on the plush chair, having ordered my beer. He looked calm and expressionless, as he is always wont to be when people are on the verge of unloading their troubles to his experience ears. However, as he listened, he chuckled.<br />
<br />
“Simon, how far has your education progressed in the most essential cultural dimension of modern day India? And by that of course I mean Bollywood.”<br />
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I was puzzled and replied that I had seen my share of them. I was not a diehard fan, especially given the loud mindless melodrama and stereotypical cliché associated with many, but thanks to some of the more thoughtful colleagues, I had watched some good ones too. I knew some of the actors ...<br />
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“Ah, then you do know someone called Amitabh Bachchan ?”<br />
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I said that I did. He was a veteran actor in his sixties with a grey beard.<br />
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“Sacrilege, Simon,” he exclaimed with widened eyes. “Nowadays, yes, he is as you describe him. But once upon a time he was young and a genuine superstar. In fact, he is known as the Angry Young Man.”<br />
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I remarked that I had not seen Mr. Bachchan in his younger days, even in movies.<br />
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He closed his eyes. “I was laughing because I remembered a movie called <i>Shakti</i>. Our Mr. Bachchan was then a young man of about ... well forty ... but that does not matter. He played the son of a tough, upright police officer who was in turn played by another superstar of yesteryears – Dilip Kumar. It is one of the better Bollywood movies, I would recommend it.”<br />
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Happy as I was with this continuing Bollywood education, I failed to see how Amitabh Bachhan or Dilip Kumar fitted into our conversation.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TURpJdHljvI/AAAAAAAAIv8/EkQgKvzIhAU/s1600/Shakti.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TURpJdHljvI/AAAAAAAAIv8/EkQgKvzIhAU/s200/Shakti.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>“The mind numbing pathos associated with the Indian workplace has temporarily made you impatient. I understand that. Well, in the movie, Amitabh as a child is kidnapped by a smuggler. The villain calls the honest policeman and tells him that he would kill his son if he did not stop trying to put him behind bars. And Dilip Kumar responds that he can do whatever he likes, but nothing can make him compromise his duty.”<br />
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I said that even if this was the accepted folklore dished out by the educational medium of Bollywood, policework and the software industry were not exactly comparable. In my book, missing a daughter’s first birthday for work could not be condoned. And glorifying the crime was almost barbaric.<br />
<br />
Dr. Roy smiled. “That’s not the point. In the movie, the little Amitabh overhears the telephonic conversation. And even when he is rescued later on and comes back to his mom and dad, he grows up hating his father, and becomes a walking six feet store of psychological problems, ultimately becoming a smuggler himself ... Well, I was just wondering if something similar can happen to this little girl in question. How will she deal with the negligence of childhood once she comes to know of it?”<br />
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He laughed. “Through some weird cognitive map, this particular movie popped up in my mind. However, that is not to trivialise the issue. Depending on when and how she comes to know of this abandonment, there can be various reactions. But, although I am quite good at it, I will refrain from long distance judgement. I understand what offended you more was the mail communication that followed in the wake of the lady’s monumental sacrifice.”<br />
<br />
I said that he was right.<br />
<br />
“And it makes sense. Let me use the example generally given by Dan Ariely of the Duke University. Let us suppose you are invited to a fabulous feast in one of the homes of your Indian colleagues. You eat your fill of delicious slices of mutton that melts in your mouth, with saffron flavoured <i>Biryani </i>that sticks to the ribs. Followed by those syrupy sweets from Bengal ... imagine all this while sitting in a land where one has to eat bread, bread and more bread ...”<br />
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I asked the doctor not to torture me since I had already had a bad day.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TURpTmMoFiI/AAAAAAAAIwA/OHbwmq1qDBs/s1600/officefamily5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="153" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TURpTmMoFiI/AAAAAAAAIwA/OHbwmq1qDBs/s200/officefamily5.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>“And at the end of it all, you belch – believe me one cannot help belching after such a meal. And then you get up and take out your wallet, peeling off two fifty euro bills as a payment for the excellent dinner ...”<br />
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“Are you crazy? That’s an insult ...”<br />
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The good doctor smiled. “Why? The hosts did spend a lot of money for this and you can equate it with a hundred euro. So why not pay them for the troubles? I will tell you why. There are two norms that generally run in the society that are parallel to each other. Social and financial. If you mix the two, the result is always a disaster.”<br />
<br />
He paused.<br />
<br />
“You mean, this manager has done the same mistake ...?”<br />
<br />
“If you go on a date with one of those beautiful Dutch girls, many of whom incidentally are unfurling themselves in the pub, and I don’t know how long my analysis will continue before bowing to the dictates of Freud. You have a great dinner, laced with lovely champagne and whispered nothings. And finally as you leave, you indicate that you would not mind a nightcap and more, especially since it has cost you a hundred and twenty euro for the meal and that’s a great deal of money ...”<br />
<br />
I said that I would not dream of making that mistake. All the gorgeous Dutch girls have played field hockey at some juncture of their exhilarating youth, and immediate access to a hockey stick as an instrument of inflicting injury could not be ruled out.<br />
<br />
Suprakash smiled. “So you see how atrocious it is to mix the social and financial norms. And although the boundary is very slim in an Indian work environment, there are certain unwritten lines that cannot be overstepped. Putting a price on a one year old baby is truly obnoxious. However, companies do try to promote themselves as a big happy family. Especially modern day multinationals. It is an effort to make employees feel at home, while the underlying objective is to ensure that the extra effort needed, the extra hours to be worked, can be elicited without paying huge quantities of additional bonus. It is all one big happy family after all, and no family member would demand extra pay for going the extra mile for brothers, sisters and cousins.”<br />
<br />
I said that it made a lot of sense. Every management talk ended with the corporate crap of it being a big, happy family.<br />
<br />
“Companies understand the underlying appeal to the social senses of the employee. Or rather there are industry wide organisational studies and theories that set the template. There are paid employees who are in charge of ensuring that the workplace is fun and gives a family feeling. This ensures that it goes beyond a nine to five and pay-check relationship. The factory whistle no longer signals the end of the day. Projects are won or lost based on the extra effort at the same price. And to ensure this, a family feeling is very important. And thanks to some of the strategies, the social norms have been established with employees. I am not referring to the ridiculous mail, but some employees do feel a certain pride in staying beyond their forty hours. But, companies do go wrong in a very elementary way. Tell me Simon, if a member of the family is sick, you will run to the doctor at night, right?”<br />
<br />
I replied that I would, provided he was not a cruel but rich uncle and I was his only heir.<br />
<br />
“Now, in case you fall sick, what would you expect from the same family member? And this is where the social norms are flagrantly abused by the company. Any social relationship is a reciprocal one. However pause a moment and think of any Indian guy at this foreign location. What happens if he becomes non-billable?”<br />
<br />
I nodded. Non-billability at onsite is fatal as far as company policy goes. One is given fifteen days to find a new assignment which earns money for the company, or else is asked to pack his bags and depart for the shores of the homeland.<br />
<br />
“I get it,” I said. “It is one-way traffic as far as social norms are concerned. The family member is kicked out the moment he cannot earn. It's worse. With short term goals, draconian cost cutting measures, and this cribbing about mounting costs while coming up with official communications of billion dollar profits – these are really at loggerheads with the happy family concept. No wonder corporate loyalty is as good as an oxymoron. Companies can’t really expect to have it both ways.”<br />
<br />
The good doctor looked long and reflectively at one more of the Dutch damsels who had flocked in to this comfortable watering hole.<br />
<br />
“You see Simon, the mistake that these organisations make is that they fail to consider the hidden implied costs that social norms bring into the picture. Let me give you a Freudian analogy. Look how suggestively first part of the literary word crops up – maybe because we are discussing the corporate world. Let us say that you want to screw. If you go to De Wallen you can have a fairly good twenty minutes for fifty euro. If you want more, go to one of the more posh places – private houses, Amsterdam Prive, Asmara, Club Bianca or whatever...”<br />
<br />
“Doctor, your knowledge of the city amazes me.”<br />
<br />
“For still better service, hire escorts. However, if you want something totally free by dating a girl, then it involves costs, maintenance costs – regular dinners and dates, wine and champagne, gifts and flowers. As Woody Allen said, the most expensive sex is free sex.”<br />
<br />
I said that it was a marvellous analogy. Woody Allen’s influence was all over the corporate world.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TURqEZLbxjI/AAAAAAAAIwI/giYoygoCQLE/s1600/officefamily4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TURqEZLbxjI/AAAAAAAAIwI/giYoygoCQLE/s200/officefamily4.jpg" width="89" /></a></div>“Hence, the more an organisation roots for a family feeling without budgeting for the costs of standing by the employee during a bad time, the more it is prone to breed pissed workforce who will jump ship at the first opportunity. All these Indian corporate families – can you tell me how many have crèches? Depressingly few. Will the company host a birthday party for the daughter? No, not unless the mother in question is a Vice President ... and by then, well, let’s say an year old daughter is next to a menopausal miracle ...”<br />
<br />
<br />
I reflected on his words even as he stopped speaking to focus on the growing number of beautiful blondes. The analysis and the beer had by now washed the bitter taste of the mail, and the screechy tracks of the rat race were by now muffled by the music that grew louder. I sat back and relaxed. At least I could forget work after the normal hours.Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-49002020197116262372011-01-27T21:50:00.000-08:002011-01-28T00:48:01.441-08:00A Statistician Explains Escalations and Best PracticesNH Musica in Amstelveen has a name that evokes melody, something soft that combines with its being a hotel to bring up images of peaceful slumber.<br />
<br />
However, even though the corporate class being conducted in its spacious conference room had the most forbidding of names –‘Statistics for Six Sigma Management’ – sleep was not the prevalent occupation in spite of the lulling allure of the name, comfortable plush chairs and excellent air conditioning. The man who was conducting the class, Aniruddha Sensharma, proved to be an engaging speaker. Not least because he had the ability to engage some of the audience in open combat. And to make it easy on our tongues as our minds struggled with the concepts, he asked us to call him Sen.<br />
<br />
A tall, athletic man in his late thirties, he assured me that his presentation skills had not always been this good. “Well, there was a period of a previous life when I could hardly make myself heard on the first attempt …,” he disclosed over post class coffee. “On my first onsite trip to New York, I was – well – tongue tied, especially when the audience included pretty women ... blonde ones...”<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TUJZAg19TTI/AAAAAAAAIvs/wCK1PQTX9Ss/s1600/monkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TUJZAg19TTI/AAAAAAAAIvs/wCK1PQTX9Ss/s1600/monkey.jpg" /></a></div>Well, he had not only managed to make himself heard, he had proved to be a voice that was sure to reverberate in everyone’s conscience. And what could a statistician possibly say that would have such far reaching echoes? Well, the man talked with numbers and explained some phenomenons of corpocracy.<br />
<br />
The attendees were from different echelons of our organisation. Some introduced themselves as Black Belts and Green Belts following the weird expertise ranking system followed by Six Sigma borrowed from the martial arts. When I confessed that I was not anything like that – and tai chi, the only martial art I trained in, did not offer coloured belts, he patted me on the shoulder and whispered softly, “Simon, you are better off than most. Given your martial arts background, let me use a Zen cliché. Your cup is empty.”<br />
<br />
He proceeded to pose a problem for the group.<br />
<br />
“Suppose you have the data of the number of days it takes for the support team to respond to very similar problems reported,” he began. “From the data collected honestly over the last one year, you have certain information. You now have a new project in which the client wants to set a Service Level Agreement on 4 days. From the past, you know the solution takes 0 to 8 days. What would you do?”<br />
A Senior Manager from the side smirked. “We cannot say no to the client, can we? And I hear several of these issues solved within 4 days or less. So, certainly we are capable of doing this.”<br />
<br />
A smile touched the instructor’s lips. “So, if we manage to solve one of the issues within 4 days, we are capable of doing that?”<br />
<br />
“Obviously,” the senior manager answered. “We have demonstrated our capability. We just have to follow whatever we did to solve that issue. You did mention the problems were similar, didn’t you?”<br />
<br />
“Well, if Brian Lara scores 400 in one match, does that mean he can go on scoring 400 in every game?”<br />
<br />
The Manager looked confused. “He definitely proves that he is capable of doing so.”<br />
<br />
Sen shook his head.<br />
<br />
“We are very susceptible to this mistake of confusing ability with the statistical definition of capability.”<br />
<br />
The Senior Manager was one who had risen to his position by making his point stick. He did not yield.<br />
<br />
“Sen, I don’t know about statistics, but I do know about business. I see no such thing as a marathon 400 to be reached. I see a lot of those numbers to be well within 4 days, and it is more like scoring a 30 or a 40 for a decent batsman.”<br />
<br />
Sen looked at me and smiled.<br />
<br />
“Simon, I apologise for the number of references to cricket.”<br />
<br />
I laughed and informed him that I had worked long enough for Indian companies to have developed an idea of the game.<br />
<br />
“Now, I will make it easy for you. What you say is right. 70% of these figures actually are less than or equal to 4.”<br />
<br />
The Senior Manager shrugged.<br />
<br />
“If we can do it 70% of the times, I’d say we can do it all the time if we made sure that the guys knew that their asses would be on the line if they slipped. I mean 70% is a damn good probability. I understand all the issues may not be solved within 4 days and some may slip the deadline, but again, speaking from a business point of view, what is required is a good first impression. If there are 10 issues that come in the first month and the team solves everyone of them within the SLA, I’d say they could relax after that. With 70% chances of keeping to the SLAs, with some commitment and accountability, we can do it.”<br />
<br />
He laughed, and a lot of people laughed with him. Sen joined in. A lady among the Six Sigma Black Belts, however, differed in opinion.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TUJ-RxWaqgI/AAAAAAAAIvw/88Cl0tD8tqk/s1600/av003_lg.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" s5="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TUJ-RxWaqgI/AAAAAAAAIvw/88Cl0tD8tqk/s200/av003_lg.gif" width="163" /></a></div>“Well, I would approach it differently,” said the expert. “I would compute the mean and standard deviation of the numbers ...”<br />
<br />
Sen responded readily.<br />
<br />
“We have a mean of 3 and a standard deviation of 1.2,” he said.<br />
<br />
The Black Belt Lady computed furiously in her mind. “That means probability of less 4 is than is the corresponding probability value of 4 minus 3.2 by 12. The z-score is .67 and we can convert into the probability value from the normal table ...”<br />
<br />
Sen smiled at us. “Let me tell you the probability value of the z-score the lady has so efficiently computed. It is nearly .75.”<br />
<br />
The Senior Manager clapped his hands. “There. You see, The Statistics vindicates whatever I said in layman’s terms. The probability of us meeting the SLA is even more than what I had anticipated. It is three fourths. I would definitely not stand for any screw up there. As I said. For the first ten issues, I would ask the team to deliver. Go beyond themselves if necessary.”<br />
<br />
“Or else?” Sen asked.<br />
<br />
“Or else? I would escalate the pants off them. Business has to go on. And what I found and the lady verified with her Black Belt expertise, the probability is as good as certainty.”<br />
<br />
I spoke now, probing a little, implying that there was something unsaid in Sen’s reasoning. Why did he give me the sneaking feeling that he had a surprise up his sleeve?<br />
<br />
Sen laughed.<br />
<br />
“Well, my calculations are somewhat different, but let me tell you, it is hardly surprising to me. I have been around. I have been in the industry for around 13 years now, minus a two year forced break following the slow down after 9/11. And going by my experience, this is how business indeed operates.”<br />
<br />
The Senior Manager nodded. “We have no choice.”<br />
<br />
Sen smiled and moved to the board.<br />
<br />
“Okay. So your assumption is that it is within the capability of the team to deliver the resolutions of the first ten issues within SLA. Otherwise it is Escalation ...”<br />
<br />
“Look, Sen. There are so many instances of meeting the SLA. Surely if we go deep into them there are a whole lot of best practices we can unravel ... I mean, I understand they are figures and can be translated into statistics, but it is business too ...”<br />
<br />
A change came over our soft spoken instructor. His complaint tone made way for brisk, confident explanations.<br />
<br />
“Okay. We will come back to you. First let me talk about the lady’s comments about the probability through a Z-score. The way the mean and variance were computed to get to the z-score and thereby the probability of solving an issue within 4 days was indeed correct but for a very basic error. The data of the days we have out here are integers. All between 0 and 8. They are essentially a set of discrete data points whereas you have gone ahead assuming it to be normally distributed. Forget that normality implies continuous data. Before applying the z-score, it is essential to perform a normality test.”<br />
<br />
He paused. There were confounded faces across the room as people struggled with the concepts. Not too many understood the terms, but the situation was one of confrontation and some very axiomatic ideas were being challenged.<br />
<br />
“Now, let us forget the z-scores and the normal approximation. We will go ahead with the first information that I derived from this data. 70% of the issues are solved within the given SLA. Now, our Senior Manager would provide motivational and escalation driven carrot and stick method to ensure that the first ten issues are solved within the SLA time frame. And since the probability of meeting the SLA is a high 70%, it seems well within capability. Now let us find out how feasible this actually is.”<br />
<br />
He looked at us.<br />
<br />
“Every time an issue arrives, we define success as solving it within 4 days. Historically, the probability of success is 0.7. Our Senior Manager friend got that much correct with his considerable intelligence. Technically, each issue is a Bernoulli Trial with probability of success 0.7.<br />
<br />
“Now comes the second part. Our friend here wants the first ten solved within SLA. What it means statistically is 10 successes in 10 independent Bernoulli trials. Or 10 successes in a Binomial distribution with 10 samples with probability 0.7. Whichever way you choose to look, it amounts to the same thing. However we try to compute it, the formula being 10 Choose 10 multiplied by 0.7 to the power 10 for the Binomial distribution, the probability of 10 successes in 10 trials turns out to be 0.028 which is less than 3%. So there is just about 3% chance given the current capability that the first 10 issues will be solved within SLAs and no escalation results from the efforts. In fact, there is just a 60% probability that we will get more than 7 issues resolved within SLAs.”<br />
<br />
Sen stopped, eyeing the audience. The Senior Manager glared at the board. The Black Belt Lady looked chastened.<br />
<br />
“It just can’t be true,” the former said. “I know it can’t. We can’t run a business that way. I know we can lie with statistics ...”<br />
<br />
Sen smiled. “In the supplied booklets, you will find brief write ups about Bernoulli trials, Binomial Distributions and Normal Distributions. If whatever I said still surprises you after you have gone through them, I can offer you some help. But, believe me ... the human mind is not really tuned to understand probability by intuition. And this is why we have an industry that more or less runs on escalations. Because people forget to realise that the law of nature says that some things will go wrong. Sometimes even a Brian Lara can get out for a duck, although he has the ability to score 400.”<br />
<br />
Now, as I sat with him in the cafeteria after class, he confessed something.<br />
<br />
“Six Sigma is a sham, Simon. Human beings have used numbers to study a situation and figure out answers ever since they started to count. It is only a fancy term and a lot of propaganda. Oldest wine in sparklingly polished bottles. And unless a black belt has proper grounding of statistics, he is like a first aid trained social worker who tries to cure cancer.”<br />
<br />
When I pointed out that he was a Six Sigma black belt himself, he sighed.<br />
<br />
“I had applied for a job which had advertised for a process champion with a preferred black belt in Six Sigma. Till then I had had a day’s training in Six Sigma concepts and a Black Belt in Shotokan Karate. Both were documented in my CV. A search algorithm found me as a suitable candidate by matching strings. And time pressure and immediate assignment ensured that I was hired. So, although I already had a post graduate in Statistics, when my employers found out that I did not have a Six Sigma certification, they coaxed me to get one – almost at gun point. It’s such a wonder. Chance plays such a big role in shaping destiny.”<br />
<br />
After initial doubts, I realised that he was not kidding. I mentioned that as a probability expert he should know the working of chance in this world. Particularly his explanation of rampant escalations that left many a manager red faced. He became more animated than he had allowed himself to be in the class.<br />
<br />
“Trust me, Simon. That is how the world operates. You did see that this sort of SLAs, which an ambitious decision maker will not think twice before agreeing to, is prone to bring in failures by lots. And with these black belts growing like mushrooms with five day crash courses in statistics, they will advised by flamboyantly ignorant men. This extraordinary lack of true understanding of reality makes the industry so prone to escalations.”<br />
<br />
He paused for a while and winked.<br />
<br />
“The funny part is, the chance factor will be ignored totally, and the successes that resulted in meeting SLAs in the first place may be analysed to limits for nonexistent best practices. Since it was chance all the way, for success and failure, there will be best practice reports written up on the fly, which is more removed from reality than reading tea leaves.<br />
<br />
“Besides Simon. Escalations themselves. They always seem to improve performance. But does anyone analyse to see whether it has anything to do with the heat turned on?”<br />
<br />
I asked him what he meant.<br />
<br />
“Simon, escalations take place when outliers occur. When SLA is breached or something worse happens. That is a rare enough event. That happening twice in succession is even rarer. So, irrespective of whether or not the senior manager decides to deliver his tongue lashing, by the law of probability, the tendency will be to move to the better zone. It has nothing to do with the dressing down. The senior managers would be far better served to busy themselves learning some basics of probability than thinking up biting remarks and delivering them. But, they get touted as great motivators. Unknowingly leveraging on probabilistic laws.”<br />
<br />
I said that the statistical insights were eye openers.<br />
<br />
“It goes beyond this industry, Simon. It is everywhere. You see, there was this 3% chance of all the 10 issues meeting SLAs. So 3 of every hundred stupid managers will be success stories by sheer chance. And they will be the celebrated model managers. Most of the business gambles are the same. There can be analogous ventures in the business world with a probability of success something like .01 per cent. By sheer law of probabilistic chance, 1 of 10000 imbecile CEOS who take this gamble will come out winners. And then they will be worshipped as world leading Innovators, as superstar CEOs, appearing on Forbes. There will be books analysing their backgrounds, parentage, links to holocaust, seven habits, movement of cheese and all such nonsense. They will author books too – telling the world how to do business, how to invest, how to take decisions straight from different parts of their anatomy ...”<br />
<br />
I laughed. “Now you sound very much like someone I know ... who, in fact, ghosted one such book for a Superstar CEO ... ghosted blogs too ...”<br />
<br />
“I would like to meet your friend very much,” Sen smiled. “You know, this entire statistically ignorant caper is like watching a 1000 monkeys typing away on type writers. Sooner or later, one of them is probabilistically bound to come up with a line by Shakespeare. And when that happens everyone starts analysing the type of banana he eats, the trees he swings from, the monkey friends who groom him and so on.”<br />
<br />
I was laughing very loudly by now. There were odd looks from the other tables. Two of the managers were staring at me with a frown.<br />
<br />
“Oh well, since you have left a couple of managers more than a little embarrassed, I ought not be laughing out loud at your comments. It might become an attitude problem and my annual appraisal may go for a toss ...”<br />
<br />
He winced.<br />
<br />
“Ah... the dear old bell curve. Don’t even get me started on that.”<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Aniruddha Sensharma, aka Sen, is the hero of Big Apple 2 Bites by Arunabha Sengupta.</i></span>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-34870847157484862862011-01-23T08:59:00.000-08:002011-01-28T00:47:16.291-08:00Blow (Up) JobMy buddy – as now famously documented in <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/145380398X/">The Best Seller</a></i> – had once shown an excerpt of Woody Allen’s <i>Everything you wanted to Know about Sex and Were Afraid to Ask</i> during a corporate presentation. The specific fragment of the movie he showed dealt with whatever goes on in the body during an orgasm, depicted with Woody’s signature humour, the body transformed into a science fiction set with the different organs and systems taking up roles of different characters. Woody himself played a sperm, going into the unknown, not sure whether he would be splattered against the ceiling through masturbation or end up against rubber walls as heard from trusted sources.<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TTxainDJVEI/AAAAAAAAIvU/n1eYx0IIGi0/s1600/woodysperm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TTxainDJVEI/AAAAAAAAIvU/n1eYx0IIGi0/s200/woodysperm.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
When I spoke to him about it in one of our many discussions later on, he dismissed it by saying that it was not really the result of inspiration.<br />
“Simon, my friend, whenever I look at the pathetic playing fields of the corporate world, I find parallels in two genres of moviemaking. One which are the classics that encompass symbolism, and the other suited to the blue hued multiple x rated productions which are cruder, but depict the common employee in stark reels. This Woody Allen classic sort of brings the two genres into one package.”<br />
<br />
Needless to say, I almost choked on the Chinese food I had been eating at that point of our conversation, and we had been forced by my endangered oesophagus to abandon this fascinating line of dialogue.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TTxeGckPpjI/AAAAAAAAIvY/FcY0NqLF4Cs/s1600/blowup2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TTxeGckPpjI/AAAAAAAAIvY/FcY0NqLF4Cs/s200/blowup2.jpg" width="136" /></a></div>However, these conversations came doubling back the memory lane as I ended my day with my weary feet on the coffee table, my plasma TV set screening the romping depiction of London in the '60s by Michelangelo Antonioni in <i>Blow Up</i>.<br />
<br />
It had been a fatiguing day ending with another of those <a href="http://senantixsimon.blogspot.com/2011/01/ritual-dance-of-meetings.html">ritual dances</a> that are called Senior Management meetings - which is more or less enough to test the sanity of a normal person. Additionally, I had been busy all day, preparing presentations with manufactured figures – fictitious inventions which I am quite proud of by now – that showcased to the management our highly matured process of using historical data.<br />
<br />
I had been assigned two guys to help me come up with this high maturity presentation – whenever I gave them a data set, ostensibly of the past projects that we had carried out, created on the fly by my trusted random number generating spreadsheet application, they industriously put it through complicated, forbidding sounding tests – Anderson-Darling, Mann Whitney, Kruskal-Wallis .. The inferences they drew, after sufficient number of massage sessions, found their way into the final deck.<br />
<br />
In fact, we managed to do such a magnificent job of this data deceit, my manager ended up puffing out his chest with undisguised pride and the hallowed vice president who had come in to go through the choreographed motions of the senior management meeting actually reeled off some of the excellent work that the company had done by CMMi Level 5 compliant highly mature handling of data from the past, and added that this would be one of the major selling points in future business. My two collaborators beamed with gratification as they saw their important tests with the figures had conjured up a fanciful case study for the organisation. Was it only I who remembered that the <i>historical data </i>was generated on the fly by my trusted spreadsheet program?<br />
<br />
Obviously, the talk was not limited to just these numbing numbers, but all the other regular figures came into play. The million dollar earnings of the different lines of business, the hundred and fifty or so new clients killing each other to get their projects out of the proverbial pipeline and shoot the profit meter screeching to the limit.... And of course, there were questions – time tested politically correct questions, asked by the same souls, with the same answers and everyone parting with contented smiles in metronomic manner.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TTxeOT4yBNI/AAAAAAAAIvc/W5X1hl9AjHk/s1600/blowuptennis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TTxeOT4yBNI/AAAAAAAAIvc/W5X1hl9AjHk/s200/blowuptennis.jpg" width="200" /></a>So, late at night, I was sitting with the beer bottle in my hand, watching David Hemmings shoot the glamorous models and then get embroiled in an awful lot of complication. My semi stoned mind, deadened by the day’s stupidity, struggled with the underlying message of the masterpiece. I could just about make out the surgical precision with which the superficiality of the society of those days was exposed with each reel, the telling tale echoing off the fabric of the current world as loudly.<br />
It was the last five minutes of high symbolism that reminded me of that statement of my buddy.<br />
<br />
David Hemmings, the photographer without a name in the movie, watches a group of mime artists engage in a tennis match –without rackets and ball. Two of the artists go through the motions and the other mime artists follow the apparent flight of the ball by moving their heads. Soon, the camera starts following the imaginary ball. Hemmings, who finds the whole show amusing, also starts moving his eyes after the supposed ball after a short while.<br />
<br />
And then comes the moment of superlative storytelling. One of the mimed shots go wide and high and out of the tennis court into the field. One of the players approaches Hemmings and asks him to retrieve the ball. Hemmings hesitates at first, but then runs towards the spot where the ball has apparently landed, picks it up and throws it back. His own camera dangles in his hand, with the capacity to capture reality, while he conforms to the imagined truth of many. The game goes on and he continues to watch it, moving his eyes to follow the ball. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TTxed6um6JI/AAAAAAAAIvg/2Bq_WqmRl14/s1600/blowuptennis2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TTxed6um6JI/AAAAAAAAIvg/2Bq_WqmRl14/s200/blowuptennis2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I drift off as he merges into the grass in the background and I take his place. My eyes follow the match and I suddenly see the two data masseurs in the court, playing out a rally while our Senior Manager is in the press box, vividly reporting the game. The rest of the organisation watches on, moving their head from side to side to follow the imaginary ball.<br />
<br />
Did I really drift off? Have I already returned the ball when asked to throw it back? How long will it take for me to walk forward and join the rest of the crowd watching the game?Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-77396071861238345642011-01-17T13:39:00.000-08:002011-01-28T00:46:18.151-08:00Parallel Universe of Corpocracy<div class="MsoBodyText"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: windowtext;">(<i>Adapted extract from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Best-Seller-Arunabha-Sengupta/dp/145380398X/">The Best Seller</a></i>)</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: windowtext;">My continuation in the role as the official buddy, of a fellow employee who has just had his short term assignment converted to a lengthy one, has been dubbed LESSON – <b>L</b>ogical <b>E</b>xtension of <b>S</b>eamles<b>S ON</b>-boarding. When you scratch the surface of this pompous piece of rhetoric, it actually means continuing to point out bars and shopping malls of the city to the new member. The maniacal euro pursuing corporate organisations not only try to manufacture a common soul by propagating brand values. They also develop their own poetic version of the mundane for that soul to be uplifted.</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: windowtext;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: windowtext;">However, critical as I am, this microcosmic world has its uses. Concocted philosophy in form of brand values, laboured poetry in the garb of elaborate euphemisms, pseudo science in the guise of innovations, petty politics in the cloak of relentless back biting, ersatz society under the mask of people living virtually in each other’s homes long after office hours, frequent musical soirees with the inbuilt sham of philanthropy through small change associations with NGOs masquerading as an apology of culture – all these have their utility. </span></div><div class="MsoBodyText"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: windowtext;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: windowtext;">What if some shifty eyed account manager, for example, had not reacted with jerky gestures at every sneeze of the client? What if some senior manager had not sung her cheery greetings and made her domineering presence felt across the length and breadth of the client organisation, threatening all and sundry with the next instalment of family stories? What if everyone had been free spirits like me? </span></div><div class="MsoBodyText"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: windowtext;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: windowtext;">Would then a bunch of largely mediocre people have found a satisfactory life abroad? A life that many of their friends and family are proud and envious of. The truth is that every business has to run in accordance to its own rules. If the more sensitive and intelligent of the lot get disillusioned at the contrivance, they have the choice of playing along, getting out of there or becoming an entrepreneur-visionary and trying to create their own royal game.</span></div>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-46446954506625189162011-01-05T14:25:00.000-08:002011-01-28T00:45:45.496-08:00Ritual Dance of Meetings<a href="http://senantixshrink.blogspot.com/">Dr. Suprakash Roy</a> was leaning in his familiar languid way, the perpetual patience tinged with a hint of amusement on his face. The Cafe by the Herengracht was bustling with clientele as I shut the door on the snow-kissed wind and hastened to join him thirty seven after the agreed hour.<br />
<br />
“I have heard that the children of this country receive their first diary in school. The <i>buitenlanders </i>complain about the horrors of the Dutch man living by his appointment book.”<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TSTvjw01gwI/AAAAAAAAItg/yAAz5GyIAjM/s1600/officedance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TSTvjw01gwI/AAAAAAAAItg/yAAz5GyIAjM/s200/officedance.jpg" width="158" /></a><br />
I smiled sheepishly and informed him that the Dutchman in question had been held up by some of the good doctor’s own countrymen. Quickly getting rid of the waitress with an order for cappuccino, I placed a weary head on the backrest of the chair.<br />
<br />
“Perils of working for an Indian company?” he asked with a smile. “Time stretched across personal boundaries?”<br />
<br />
I laughed. “Normally I am spared the elastic hours that bind others,” I observed, hinting at the peculiar privileges I enjoyed as a <i>firangee </i>(a term I have picked up from my recent Indian adventures). However, today the Vice President himself had dropped in for his monthly visit, and the conference room had been a temporary concentration camp for everyone till all the pent up important words had been communicated to eager and not so eager ears.<br />
<br />
The doctor’s eyes shone with that particular gleam of interest I recognise so readily nowadays.<br />
“Ah ... but, Simon, tell me something. In an industry that swears by cutting edge technology, why does your Vice President travel around visiting locations? Can one not communicate whatever there is to be communicated through the various forms of networking media?”<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TSTuvfMcBNI/AAAAAAAAItQ/LDrVQmaqlwI/s1600/officedance4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TSTuvfMcBNI/AAAAAAAAItQ/LDrVQmaqlwI/s1600/officedance4.JPG" /></a><br />
I thought about it. For a period of initial frenzy, podcasts did spare us the monthly misery. But as the novelty wore off, the grand footfalls resumed gracing our cubicular existence. I told the psychiatrist as much and added, “I have often wondered about the same. Sometimes these guys shuttle about Prague, Budapest, Amsterdam, Berlin, Paris and London. A video conference is way cheaper. I guess one of the reasons that they don’t use communication media is that there is seldom too much to communicate.”<br />
<br />
The doctor raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”<br />
<br />
I explained the rigmarole of a stereotypical senior management address in a corporate environment.<br />
“Well, there is hardly anything new said in any meeting. It is more of a repetition of the company being a one big family to live with and grow with theme that keeps recurring – sometimes with a dash of the difficult market and successful expansion thrown in. And there is always a peculiar pitch about the vision and mission which confuses everyone, I guess that includes the man himself. It is a kind of ritual, with him visiting, our assembling and then his delivering the talk. And ultimately, the meeting always gets prolonged because of some members of the team – always the same people – having more or less the same sort of questions every time.”<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>A smile lit up the psychiatrist’s face as I sipped my coffee.<br />
“It’s very interesting, Simon.”<br />
<br />
“I assure you that’s not exactly the right adjective.”<br />
<br />
Suprakash laughed.<br />
“The problem is something about the parallel world of networks that always bother me. No networking tool, social or corporate has as yet replicated body language. You see Simon, historically, a great percentage of communication between individuals have taken place through gestures, relative body positions, looks, glances and so on. Even in a video conference, that sort of communication is difficult to achieve.”<br />
<br />
I looked at him quizzically and wondered why body language should be important in senior management messages.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TSTvE_CKvGI/AAAAAAAAItY/AZVMqme61C0/s1600/officedance5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TSTvE_CKvGI/AAAAAAAAItY/AZVMqme61C0/s1600/officedance5.JPG" /></a>“Ah,” the doctor closed his eyes and began speaking. I could tell from experience that he was stepping into the pedagogical mode. “You say there is hardly anything to communicate. So, why these meetings? You hit it on the head when you used the word ‘ritual’. It is a primordial characteristic of society. All animals use body language to establish social pecking order. From the mighty lions to the lobsters. The dominant and the submissive are demarcated by their posture and behaviour. Don’t you see the same thing in the deferential smiles, in the apologetic cough, the tentative rise of the hand in order to ask a question on one hand, and the patronising smile, the busy super important air at the other end? From animal huddles to tribal dances ... this is played out everywhere. In fact, this is a requirement for the ancient human genes to assure themselves both ways – for the leader to feel his acceptance and power, and for the subordinates to ...”<br />
<br />
I interrupted even as he spoke.<br />
<br />
“For a moment I thought you would classify us as bipeds rather than humans – a la Schopenhauer.”<br />
<br />
Dr. Roy smiled apologetically. “Don’t get me wrong. Unlike our mutual friend, I am not overly cynical. I just observe. And here I find fascinating primitive rituals being played out in modern day board rooms. And the other stuff you said about incomprehensible mission statements ... Is it not like the cryptic chant one associates with rituals?”<br />
<br />
I laughed, but then the thought hit home.<br />
“Actually, you can say so.”<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TSTvQrOOQfI/AAAAAAAAItc/UTw8wog53fQ/s1600/ritual.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="152" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TSTvQrOOQfI/AAAAAAAAItc/UTw8wog53fQ/s200/ritual.JPG" width="200" /></a>“I do say so. If you consider the ancient Spartans, they had an annual festival in which the entire populace chanted the Laws – set to music. Through this chant, even difficult decrees were memorised. A shared ritual leading to mutual understanding ...”<br />
<br />
I interrupted again.<br />
“But, there is hardly any mutual understanding here, Sup. Mutual confusion is more like it. And I cannot really place this obnoxious orang-utan – to copy shamelessly from my official buddy – at par with the ancient Spartan Strategic Planner. His myopic vision will need a colossal telescope to stretch to such levels of scheming manipulation of our combined minds into remembering...”<br />
<br />
“Ah, but, my friend. You forget that I don’t credit him with coming up with the whole thing. This is followed through the dictates of the human genes. Every senior management meeting a ritualistic dance where people keep the rhythm and are pulled up for having ‘attitude problem’ every time they step out of the defined line or step on sensitive toes.”<br />
<br />
As the pretty waitress appeared and I rewarded her for the lovely smile with another order of coffee, I closed my eyes and mentally played back meeting after meeting, metronomic monthly ordeals ... pressing the mental mute button to cut off the painful chant.<br />
<br />
And I almost saw the steps of this strange dance being performed to the music of time. The big boss flashing a smile, the shimmer of complying laughter at the lamest of opening jokes, the rhythmic nods at the shared thoughts that would sink into oblivion without a trace, there the combined burst of laughter, the same earmarked virtuoso dancers getting into step, raising their hands, mouthing their stereotypical questions – and then the final words, the smiles in unison, the synchronised rise from the seats, the shake of important and privileged hands – I myself taking part in an orchestrated tango, being the local hire who merits a couple of questions from the very important person ... and then the departure followed by harmonious relaxation of postures.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
The ritual dance of the tribe of homo cubiculum.<br />
<br />
The doctor sat back and enjoyed his latte, but with this new insight, I was hungry for more, and the discussion stretched into the night over approximately half a gallon of coffee.<br />
<br />
So watch this space for further analysis of our bizarre commonplace world.Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-60268211050636589652010-11-28T10:56:00.000-08:002011-01-28T00:44:28.125-08:00Crystal Ball Report Card 2010<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TPKk5GncARI/AAAAAAAAIqs/7kLGoDFmxCs/s1600/crystal+ball+world.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TPKk5GncARI/AAAAAAAAIqs/7kLGoDFmxCs/s200/crystal+ball+world.jpg" width="200" /></a>As I look back on the year that has almost passed, I tend to revisit the thoughts I have been regurgitating and inflicting on everyone over the server-space of blogspot. It is a quaint way indeed to see not only how thought process tends to flow, hit the harsh rocks of stark reality and readjust itself into a different stream. The magic of the weblog is to ensure that thoughts not only flow on their own, but also get stirred, diverted, dammed and unclogged by others whose streams of consciousness cross ours on the connected path of the world wide web.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">As I meander about the currents of thought I stumble on to a new found surface of realisation. The trend of reaching a conclusion and then being forced to modify the earlier analysis is the way of not only the bloggers and other amateur thinkers of the world. This is also the modus operandi of the so called trend watchers and analysts who make a living out of reaching learned conclusions about the events of the world. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">In an earlier <a href="http://senantixsimon.blogspot.com/2010/09/predicting-perils.html">post</a>, which is now a part of the novel <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Best-Seller-Arunabha-Sengupta/dp/145380398X/">The Best Seller</a></i>, I had pointed out that prediction is not really a pastime or profession we are good at as human beings. Especially where factors of people interaction get into the equation, we miserably fail to foresee what will happen in the immediate future, let alone the distant days. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Most corporations continue to live in the fool’s paradise of a deterministic universe. Data collection has never been so rigorous or so ridiculous as in these days of electronic footprint, something that my cyber psychiatrist friend continues to remind me of. However, can all this data, even with super number crunching computes give us a glimpse of the future?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Two years back, when the economies tottered, and the account manager of Axiom Consulting in HMH, Amsterdam, Ajay Yadav, was publicising his new patch-worked model of Defect Prediction to compensate for his lack of a vertebral column, I heard these immortal words from my buddy. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It is the ancient fascination of man to look for the signs of the future in the present. It started with tea leaves, constellation and palms, and now find their modern manifestation in Economic Predictions and Defect Prediction Models.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br />
</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Although my friend is often dismissed as cynical, I did present my theory that when the human element comes into the picture, there are too many parameters involved to perfectly predict the outcomes. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">However, at the end of 2010, let me try to provide some real results – going beyond pure theoretical analysis.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I am currently looking at some of the predictions made by one of my favourite political magazines at the beginning of this year. As they say, now the scores are in and let me see how the forecasters of the famed publication have fared. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TPKuNOwpDVI/AAAAAAAAIrA/TBBsFdHYP5E/s1600/davecameron.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TPKuNOwpDVI/AAAAAAAAIrA/TBBsFdHYP5E/s200/davecameron.jpg" width="129" /></a><span lang="EN-GB">Before proceeding, let me put forth the disclaimer that the magazine continues to be my favourite and whatever evidence I state are the results not of their incompetence, but of the pure perils of prediction. It is the profession of journalism that makes itself vulnerable to pitfalls. Normal reporting is the first draft of history while columns that look ahead attempt a first draft at the future. That is just not easy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">My favourite magazine did an excellent job in predicting the changes in Britain’s political landscape. They foretold the call for the British general elections by Gordon Brown, and his subsequent loss to the new David Cameron government. They even foresaw that there would be a Miliband as a leader of the Labour party. However, they failed to foresee the Tory coalition with Liberal Democrats.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TPKlaa3RiTI/AAAAAAAAIqw/lMMEI1WwDd8/s1600/obamatea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="128" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TPKlaa3RiTI/AAAAAAAAIqw/lMMEI1WwDd8/s200/obamatea.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">In the United States, they did predict (as who did not?) a tough year for Barrack Obama. They also did a good job in anticipating the healthcare reform situation and the continuing issues in Afghanistan. However, when it came to factoring in the popular reaction, they – may I say, predictably – failed to predict the rise of anger on the right wing, the tea party movement et al.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Moving on to the world economy, the relatively safe prediction of a slow, gradual, and backbreaking struggle to get back towards recovery in most of the rich countries did come off pretty well. China was a pretty safe bet as it surged ahead of Japan to become the second largest economy of the world. So were the predictable performances of the other BRIC nations. However, as with most other modern day economic soothsayers, they missed the struggle of the euro regions, missing out completely on the toppling of Greece and the resulting perils of Angela Merkel . </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TPKlgrEl7fI/AAAAAAAAIq0/8PrfcUCrvI4/s1600/merkel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="102" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TPKlgrEl7fI/AAAAAAAAIq0/8PrfcUCrvI4/s200/merkel.jpg" width="200" /></a><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">On the other global domains, they did raise some warning flags about the controversy over online privacy, but my friend Dr. Suprakash Roy did the same in quieter, but more convinced manner. They also did manage to foresee FaceBook’s face off with Google, the rise of Kindle, Sony, iPad and other eReaders.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">However, there were plenty that were plain unpredictable. The debacle of Kevin Rudd, Australia’s foreign minister, was unexpected and therefore even the best political forecasters did not bet on it. Thailand’s political violence was another major miss in the game of telling the fortune of foreign affairs. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TPKlpl34UUI/AAAAAAAAIq4/40WeWjyxCkU/s1600/haiti.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TPKlpl34UUI/AAAAAAAAIq4/40WeWjyxCkU/s200/haiti.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Most importantly, there were other black swan events, which underline the absolute frailty of the human species at playing god while poring over data and trend charts, sporting honourable diplomas and degrees. We still cannot predict the calamities and disasters like the earthquake in Haiti, the floods in Pakistan, the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, the volcanic eruption in Iceland with long-lasting effect on the aviation industry or the plane crash that killed Lech Kaczynski, the president of Poland.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TPKlwTr21qI/AAAAAAAAIq8/d-DE-40v6Gc/s1600/Pakiflood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="146" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TPKlwTr21qI/AAAAAAAAIq8/d-DE-40v6Gc/s200/Pakiflood.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">There is absolutely no way that one can get round to predicting the events of the last paragraph, at least not yet. And as it often is, these are the occurrences that stamp their presence most indelibly on the history of the future of mankind.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">We continue to make unparalleled leaps, accelerating to a level of scientific and technological sophistication that may prompt us into the false sense of security that we are in absolute control of a connected universe, where all that matters is known, deterministic and predictable, or just a click away. But, as we face the coldest winter in 1000 years it may be handy to remember that in the face of some of the most random events of the world, we are nothing but a bunch helpless creatures sitting with an illusion of power on a frail pale blue dot of a world. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-92176975540758844672010-11-15T11:00:00.000-08:002011-01-28T00:44:52.381-08:00Lessons amidst Red Alert<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TOGDHM9jB1I/AAAAAAAAIqE/qPgsGwvWFjM/s1600/WWbook.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TOGDHM9jB1I/AAAAAAAAIqE/qPgsGwvWFjM/s200/WWbook.JPG" width="200" /></a>Last week I learnt of the passing away of Professor P. Lal, the lyrical poet based in Kolkata, transcreator of the Indian epics, the one man publishing force behind Writers Workshop India that unearthed writers like Vikram Seth, Asif Currimbhoy and numerous others.<br />
<br />
<br />
I received the painful news from Shruti, whose usual infectious animation was subdued, almost absent. The Professor had meant a lot to her and my buddy. Also, the limited number of times the noble path had brushed mine had left a healthy residue of erudition and respect.<br />
<br />
My first encounter with him had been when Shruti had ingeniously hooked him up with her cell phone from a dingy Amsterdam coffee shop. It was that evening when she, my buddy, the shrink and I had been trying to figure out a plausible antidote for the financial crisis, our collective thoughts aided by the fumes of cannabis. That day, even our dope fuddled senses had been dazzled by his lucid commentary that cut across spiritual materialism and transcendental smoke.<br />
<br />
I had not been able to travel to India to attend the celebration marking the fifty years of Writers Workshop, although I did receive an invitation letter etched in exquisite calligraphy – with the scholar's own hand – delivered at my Utrecht residence. However, I did hear the details of the fascinating evening from both Shruti and my buddy.<br />
<br />
<br />
When I did make it to India early this year, during my self imposed year long banishment from the corporate world, I did visit the Workshop at 162/92 Lake Gardens.<br />
<br />
<br />
Professor Lal by then was very sick and I was informed that he would be unable to meet me. I had to make do with an afternoon among the great man's labour of love in the cramped, dusty kiosk – the bibliophilic equivalent of diamonds amidst coal. I did return that day with an armful of newly acquired precious possessions, hardbacked volumes with covers stitched with saree cloth, the names in brilliant gold zaried calligraphy. The books themselves were works of art … and how could one even hope to <i>Kindle </i>sufficient electronic spark to hold candle to such products?<br />
<br />
<br />
However, a delightful surprise waited for me when I reached my guest house in the evening. Professor had called up himself and left a message saying that he would be at home and ready to receive me if I was free the next morning. "It's difficult to keep oneself dammed up from one who has travelled all the way from behind the dykes," his missive said.<br />
<br />
<br />
The meeting was brief. "The doctor has decreed that I cannot meet anyone for more than half an hour," he greeted me from his chair in his much written about study. Books peeped out of every nook and cranny and the learned man sat in white traditional cotton clothes on a chair while Yeats, Tagore and Frost looked on from portraits. "Like in the battle field of Kurukshetra, we must end our verbal jousting the moment the thirty minute sun sets on us. And there are trusted generals in my wife and my grand-daughter to enforce the rules and regulations."<br />
<br />
<br />
I told him that I was wandering around the country, visiting places that took possession of my fancy. He nodded, smiling. "Oh, to be young and carefree. I am carefree too, but only my mind remains young. However, India cannot be discovered through the guidebooks written for the West. One needs not only the atlas and map for navigating through the immense space, but also similar devices to understand the glorious journey through time. Otherwise, all you see is an inept superficial caricature of the Western world."<br />
<br />
I spoke to him about his autobiographical <i>Lessons</i> which I had picked up from the store. A year ago I had seen my buddy peering over it along with the autobiography of Neville Cardus. He laughed.<br />
<br />
"You know what my name means in English? Lal literally means <i>red</i>. So, if I had chosen, I could have called it '<i>My Name is Red</i>' and then Orhan Pamuk would have had to search for another title. So, I just decided to talk about others. Anyway, I was not too keen to be the miniaturist for myself."<br />
<br />
I told him that it was precisely what struck me as unusual in his memoirs. It seemed a sum total of lives that had somehow intersected his own.<br />
<br />
"Ah, but what is man but a sum total of all the deep connections he makes with the people in the world. In 1989, I was what I was because of the experiences with others that had shaped my life. In 2010 I have evolved. I now communicate through email, am called upon to join conference calls from Amsterdam's coffee shops, have a miraculous website of my workshop. I am an aggregate of all these excellent things that have happened to me, but could it have been possible if I had not come across the wonderful people who have shown me how to walk these new fangled paths of the global village?" He smiled. "Where would I have been in the electronic world if my grand daughter had not painstakingly typed in every email that I have sent in my life?"<br />
<br />
I wondered whether connections really mattered all that much in the modern world. Nowadays men connect more than they communicate by virtue of the Web 2.0 phenomenon of social networks.<br />
<br />
"Law of 10%," he smiled as he answered. "Something that I have learnt from my more than half a century of teaching. There will always be the select 10% that will make it meaningful. It applies to every mass endeavour. However, I am too fascinated by the marvels of technology. Internet reshapes the world in a way that I had never thought of as possible. The workshop has been there for over fifty years and the web site was set up only in 2004. And since then there have been orders from all around the world."<br />
<br />
He paused and looked at me.<br />
<br />
"Simon van der Wiel. You have strong Dutch roots if your name is anything to go by. No doubt you have read Herman. Williem Frederik Herman?"<br />
<br />
I said that I had. Since we did not have too many great authors in our heritage we had to read at least Herman and Mulisch.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TOGBAa5QFnI/AAAAAAAAIqA/FIISz83pqvQ/s1600/proflal.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TOGBAa5QFnI/AAAAAAAAIqA/FIISz83pqvQ/s320/proflal.JPG" width="320" /></a>He shook his head, "Never say that, Simon. You never know. The Dutch are very protective of their privacy. Self propaganda is something that is out of necessity limited by their nature. With the publishing world being the racket that it is, who knows how many Hermans lie unread, unnoticed, even unpublished behind the dykes, in some box in the quaint brown, red and chocolate brick buildings? But, I am diverted, absent minded professor that I am. Herman. In <i>Beyond Sleep</i> he says something striking about photography. In the portrait age, people were defined by the artist's rendering of themselves in one single pose and posture. One solitary moment of time that brought out their qualities and virtues. Come the discovery of the camera, human beings woke up to realise that every moment they present a different face to the world. Features change with mood and medium. Man is not uniquely characterised by his static features, but by the dynamic sum total of expressions across time. Internet probably brings on a new dimension with un-thought of technological enhancement. Never in the history were connections more important in the life of an individual – something that characterises him, shapes his very existence."<br />
<br />
He paused, and I wondered how much sense his words made in the day of Facebook.<br />
<br />
We talked on for well beyond half an hour till his ageing yet charming wife, Shyamasree Devi, looked in to declare that it was time for him to rest.<br />
<br />
"The ladies of our lives," the Professor sighed. "Ever since the days of Mahabharata they bind you with pledges."<br />
<br />
Before I left, I promised to link him up during our next Cannabis Conference and, if possible, visit him again during my next Indian trip.<br />
<br />
Well, we did speak again in a couple of Cannabis Conferences, and I guess Shruti or my buddy will want to tell the tale in full sometime down the line. With their superior writing skills they can do fuller justice to the nuggets of wisdom shared by the great man in his final few interactions with us. However, I did not manage to visit him again. The next time I looked at him, he was younger, peering into a book from a page of <i>The Economist</i>, inside a well researched and restrained obituary of his noble life.<br />
<br />
I got on the web and tried looking up some of the local Indian dailies for a more detailed tribute, some welcome beam of light into hitherto unknown facets of his life. It was a disappointment.<br />
<br />
All I came up with were three articles – two in dailies from Kolkata and one from Delhi – brief, apologetic attempts at journalism, lousily researched, callously misstating facts. One of them claimed that Professor had finished the trans-creation of the Mahabharata three decades earlier, whereas he had been at work even on the day I had visited him. Others were more or less trumpet blowers for the writers of the pieces in their pathetic attempts to rise that extra foot in the eyes of the world by stepping on the great man's departed soul.<br />
<br />
When I contacted my buddy he laughed through the voice that wavered uncharacteristically.<br />
<br />
"You are trying to find greatness under limelight? Things don't happen that way, my friend. Especially in India. We are too busy trying to remodel ourselves to fit the Western templates, to jump on the wagon to earn in the strong foreign currencies … we have no time to look inward and discover the treasures that lie in our backyard. The only people you will find under the glare of spotlight are the showmen acting their part since all the world is now their stage, their vast play-field due to the boon of globalisation. They can do no better than mouth words scripted by others, flickering shadows on a screen that is as blank as nothingness."<br />
<br />
I wondered how people could actually digest this pulp as the truth.<br />
<br />
"The truth has changed form, Simon. It gradually metamorphosed itself to dollars and now with its ethereal presence in the electronic form, it is the unseen deity, the ever present God that can grant all your wishes.You have philosophised in the same vein, my friend. George Soros and Donald Trump are the philosophers of the day, the seekers of the <i>truth</i>. In India we had a term called <i>satsang</i>. Literally it means company of the highest truth – an internal glow that you feel after spending an hour with people who have reached the pinnacle of their spiritual being…"<br />
<br />
I said that I knew what he was talking about. In my interactions with Professor Lal, as in my other encounters with people like Sifu Oelschalager and Sifu Subramanium, I have felt something within me which is very like the glow he mentioned.<br />
<br />
"But look around you, Simon. The phenomenon of <i>sat-sang</i> has been redefined. People nowadays equate it with power lunches. The way a few chosen ones are given the privilege to sit around the table discussing ways and means to make more and more money with the One Seeker who has made the most. Money is truth. Professor's philosophy is relegated to a relic, and his death is manipulated into yet another stepping stone for many to utilise in their drive for power and plenty. But, let me not go into the ranting mode, my friend. Let us not soil the noble life."<br />
<br />
I close my eyes and see people firing off mails, memos, circulars, news items –to the high and mighty in office, to the publicity sections of the newspapers, in the television channels – painting their words in red to highlight their contribution and hence worth. Sound and fury is the way of the world, flickering loud images on the backdrop of nothing.<br />
<br />
And to think that the one who could have literally scripted an autobiography called <i>My Name is Red</i> chose to limit himself to <i>Lessons</i>.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-72120236492166845622010-11-05T03:01:00.000-07:002011-05-03T05:15:02.631-07:00Pizza Corporosa - Over the Topping<em>How would a corporate organisation go about cutting pizza?</em><br />
<br />
There is a new catering service recently hired for our office canteen. They seem to be a very professional, experienced and elaborate unit from the way they go about their work. And while they make a uniform hash of every item of their La Place style Asian Wok, their Pizzas are definitely some of the best in town. In Amsterdam that is quite a certificate.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TNPVQlWdDXI/AAAAAAAAIoE/TishuEhUVPY/s1600/np111r.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200px" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TNPVQlWdDXI/AAAAAAAAIoE/TishuEhUVPY/s200/np111r.jpg" width="200px" /></a>I know that some Pizza outlets and their burger siblings, especially those belonging to the large chains, are right up there when it comes to waste minimization and the application of process maturity principles of Lean and Supply Chain. It makes sense too, the results of their endeavours are generally immediate, sometimes affecting their bottom line that very lunch hour. There is a lot of readily available material on this and I don’t really want to go into all that theory.</div><br />
However, a lot of my buddy’s irreverence and curious lateral views on life have rubbed off on me, and I can’t help thinking in terms of parallels in the cubicle infested corporate world. A rather striking thought hit me when I was waiting in line, absent midedly following the action of one of the sharp, shining Norpo Pizza cutters that they use. The rolling piece of steel cuts through the delicious baked dough with a simple grace that is fascinating, not just because it happens to be the last preparation step before the hot crusty preparation becomes yours to hold and to have, but also because of the sheer efficiency with which it performs its function. <br />
<br />
And as I watched the metal in motion, my buddy's recent influence made me indulge in a thought experiment. How would such a tool pan out in the corporate environment, in the project management office? What if we thought of the excel spreadsheets and management dashboards in terms of pizza cutters?<br />
<br />
In the cubicle colonies, simplicity needs to be avoided like the most pernicious plague. Simple solutions generally end up in meeting expectations and that is a proverbial dread of every corporate drudge. It is the blueprint for the stamp of mediocrity in performance appraisals. The onus is on delighters, the extra step, that particular piece of innovation that would make one shine and bask in the glory of appreciation from the upper echelons of the organisation. The ones that would echo off the reverberating walls of the meeting rooms and would leap out of laudatory notices. It is a different matter that on the way to becoming such value added delighters, it is not unusual for the solutions to stop some way short of actually being solutions. The extra step does not just take you further, it often becomes <em>the</em> step.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Mathew Dixon, Karen Freeman and Nicholas Toman point out in their recent article on Harvard Business Review, customers actually look for basic services that cater to their explicit requirements rather than over the top delighters. Value added products seldom manage to retain or grow customer base unless we are talking of some specific industries like hospitality. But nevertheless, delighting the customers is the fad of the day, linked to performance appraisals, management presentations at all levels of pecking order, selling pitch and business conferences.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TNPV7is8J-I/AAAAAAAAIoI/FJ-Th5hwrLs/s1600/swiss-army1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="127px" px="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TNPV7is8J-I/AAAAAAAAIoI/FJ-Th5hwrLs/s200/swiss-army1.jpg" width="200px" /></a>So, when I think of a pizza cutting parallel in the Corporate world, I find myself afflicted with daytime nightmares involving crack technical team, futuristic deviants of Swiss Army Knives – touted to have far flung features as diverse as being able to perform basic limb amputation, removing specks of dust from in-growing nails, trimming the smallest asymmetry in a handlebar moustaches and prying open seventeenth century caskets retrieved from pirate shipwrecks under the sea. When I roll it over a Pizza in my mind's eye, however, it brings all the physical characteristics of mincemeat into the fare, reducing the circular sensory delight into a mangled, mutilated mess with one clumsy movement of its blade – after taking several aeons to come out of the packet in the first place, all the while sounding like a Harley Davidson engine powered lawn mower. An enmeshed mass of cheese, meat and flour closely resembling the Italian Pizzeria version of the primordial swamp. And then I see the crack technical team receiving an award for innovation, a kind of conceptually mangled mass of deception in itself, a Pulitzer, Oscar and Nobel rolled into one, the holy grail of the cubicular microcosm.</div><br />
Corporate tools have this uncanny ability to suck at what they are supposed to do. And the mystique goes much further. If the purchase of the knife amounts to a substantial number of negotiations, big names and figures in the bottom line, it will be touted as an epoch making innovation. Soon the entire organisation will be eating the mutilated mass, sharing accolades and blogging about it – with Pizza pandering evangelists spreading the word that this is the very way the Italian gods had intended pizza to be had.Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-7998069395626554812010-10-07T08:05:00.000-07:002011-01-28T00:42:01.366-08:00The Template of Homo CubiculumWhen I posted the comments about performance appraisal the last time around, I hinted at the uselessness of the practice from the point of view of well established scientific principles and some torch bearers of the process world.<br />
<br />
However, as Nicholas Taleb will no doubt underline with his unapologetic pen, business and corporate world are not supposed to follow the way that science dictates is optimal. Genetically, human beings are not equipped to be rational when it comes to questions involving highest of stakes. I have reasoned in my past post that however harmful performance evaluations are, we will continue to take part in them. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TK3hrFgI2fI/AAAAAAAAIlM/YjypVuvy2HA/s1600/PerformanceReview.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="161" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TK3hrFgI2fI/AAAAAAAAIlM/YjypVuvy2HA/s200/PerformanceReview.gif" width="200" /></a></div>So, having accepted the phenomenon as an unnecessary but existing evil, let us look at the populace who has to deal with the same. Since it is the unholy grail of employed existence, the lives of the cubicle creatures tend to revolve around the evil event. The commitment, big picture, customer focus, vision and mission, synergy and strategy, and the entire juggernaut of jargon are little more than useless Lego pieces used to fill up the infinite minutes that one has to spend in meeting rooms. The focus remains unwaveringly on the rating sheet, and the corresponding infinitesimal increase in increment over others, that fraction of an inch gained in the contemptible climb along the corporate ladder.<br />
<br />
However, it has been my observation, that in this regard, people approach the pitiable podium in different ways – basing their habits on the ancient ways of livelihood of human being.<br />
<br />
The first group of employees approach it as did the hunter gatherers of yore … who lazed and lolled about most of the day, before reacting to the pangs of hunger to be stirred into violent action. Some of them clubbed down their prey when required, with primitive lack of subtlety or sophistication. And others took some more time in preparing the snare that would trap an unsuspecting meal into the guile and then guts of ingenuity. <br />
This is the group that depends upon the activities of the last few weeks, the feverish collection of accolades during the last month – and a calculated siesta for the rest of the period under evaluation. Evolution has taught their not so active mental mechanism that public memory is fickle, the immediate impressions are stark, and the rewards require to be reaped before they fade away.<br />
However, as the hunter gatherer ancestors had to depend on fortunes to ensure the presence of edible meat in their vicinity when the stomach demanded restoration, these corporate creatures have to depend on the uncertain chance of there being a façade during the home stretch on which they can etch their grubby paw marks.<br />
<br />
The second group prefer the way of the farmer. They sow their seeds and irrigate throughout the year, as and when season is favourable, adding fertilisers of different degrees and fluidity according to events and ethics, and wait to harvest the resulting returns of cash crops. Often backbreaking, their stolid agricultural pursuits are also dependent on elements of chance. Rains and sunshine, the right kind of fertilisers, hunters and gatherers chasing their quarry across the carefully ploughed field, messing up the harvest just when it is ripe.<br />
<br />
The Indian contingent in my workplace constitute another variety of ancient templates made mundanely modern. The nomads. They roam from place to place, living off the fat of the land as long as provisions last, as long as the residents don't chase them away, as long as the caravan is capable of taking them to the next port of call. The home left behind, in this case, does not really matter in terms of wildlife to chase, fertilisers to apply or cash crops to reap. They are closer to the places they visit, striking up rewarding relationships with the residents on site.<br />
<br />
The deviant of the nomads are also based on image of the old ancestors, the emissaries of the monarch back home, loyality stamped on lips, zealously planting flags across horizons, claiming each well trodden stretch of land to be the New World. They are the account manager types, brandishing the coat of arms – the shining laminated MBA degree, in a bid to strike up alliances.<br />
<br />
And then there is the independent contractor – the mercenary, the ronin. One who fends for himself and is detached. Who is a free soul, not too worried about the grail as long as he can loot his booty in the crusades.<br />
<br />
Of course, in the dark corners of the cubicle, in the quest for the eternal rating, there crops up another profession – older than the most ancient. Where exceeding expectations of the supervisor takes on a whole new perspective. However, let us pretend that everything is squeaky clean and look the other way, one of the most frequent and followed best practices that can be picked up from corporate culture.Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-48516238592773755742010-09-26T10:53:00.000-07:002011-01-28T00:52:54.033-08:00Performance Reviews - The Third Sin - The Most Harmful of Corporate PracticesCome September, there is a sociological season change in my workplace. My buddy calls it the coming of the harvest months.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TJ-OqR5HI6I/AAAAAAAAIi4/wKlglLcgqwA/s1600/perf+review.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TJ-OqR5HI6I/AAAAAAAAIi4/wKlglLcgqwA/s200/perf+review.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>There is a purpose in the people, a spring in their steps … and if one follows them with time lapse photography or other devices of National Geographic film makers, one can detect a certain direction not only in their work, but also in their walk. This is the period when members of the client organisation is accosted with ingratiating smiles, eminently avoidable small talk and finally a prepared and mailed across feedback form that needs affirming stamp of approval.<br />
<br />
These appreciation mails, earned through coax and cajole, with the most mundane of endeavours made out to be pioneering achievements, are virtually worn by the staff, in their newest gloss, repetitions, bulletins and forwards underlining emphasis, until these recommendations bear fruit in the form of a decent annual performance review, a fractional increase in the acceleration across the steep corporate ladder. Feats celebrated with relentless drinking and happy hangovers – post harvest festivities according to my esteemed buddy.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TJ-OzxTSGvI/AAAAAAAAIi8/DmoYSH4DJ0A/s1600/getrid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TJ-OzxTSGvI/AAAAAAAAIi8/DmoYSH4DJ0A/s200/getrid.jpg" width="137" /></a></div>Professor of the UCLA School of Management and the co-author of <i>Get Rid of Performance Reviews</i>, Samuel Culbert, argues that Performance Reviews contribute little positive and many negatives in an organisation. Among others, the axiomatic practice damages the relationship between bosses and their subordinates, keeps employees from speaking honestly about themselves and company practices, helps bad managers be bad managers and hinders good managers from being good managers, and ultimately hurts the bottom line. He also adds that there isn't a shred of evidence that anything good came out of this practice.<br />
<br />
Whereas Professor Culbert’s arguments can be taken with the pinch of salt necessitated by the modern trend of management teachers in voicing the radical, there is a robust and, to me, irrefutable support from the celebrated quarters of Dr. Edward Deming who regards Performance Reviews as one of the Seven Deadly Sins of Management. In his epoch making book, Out of Crisis, Deming unequivocatingly states the downsides of the merit review process as he saw it. <i>The idea of a merit rating is alluring. the sound of the words captivates the imagination: pay for what you get; get what you pay for; motivate people to do their best, for their own good. The effect is exactly the opposite of what the words promise. In fact, he listed Performance Reviews as one of the seven deadly sins of management.</i> However, like most of the other sins against which his astute mind warned, this practice is continued by corporations to this day.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TJ-O_ZeVtUI/AAAAAAAAIjA/D0BmyESYYg8/s1600/deming.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TJ-O_ZeVtUI/AAAAAAAAIjA/D0BmyESYYg8/s1600/deming.jpg" /></a></div>Not mincing his words, Dr. Deming further added - <i>The performance appraisal nourishes short-term performance, annihilates long-term planning, builds fear, demolishes teamwork, nourishes rivalry and politics… it leaves people bitter, crushed, bruised, battered, desolate, despondent, dejected, feeling inferior, some even depressed, unfit for work for weeks after receipt of rating, unable to comprehend why they are inferior. It is unfair, as it ascribes to the people in a group differences that may be caused totally by the system that they work in.</i><br />
<br />
Among the studies which have largely agreed with his findings, in my mind, the most fascinating is the one which shows that the best predictor of the current year’s performance rating is – the last year’s rating. This is mainly due to the couple of reasons – impressions created by employees during the initial period in the company generally continue throughout their tenure, and the trend of same companies to hand good ratings by rotation.<br />
<br />
Culbert further adds - <i>The performance review, a practice that is as destructive and fraudulent as it is ubiquitous. Despite all the evidence — despite the fact that almost every person reviewed and every person reviewing knows it is bogus — corporate bosses do nothing to hasten its demise. They won't even acknowledge they have a problem. Performance reviews, in which bosses look for weaknesses and pretend to speak objectively for the company, while subordinates grin and bear it, misapply the hierarchical structure that is necessary in any organization. They ensure that the relationship is about power and subordination, making candour all but impossible, and defensiveness the behaviour of choice for stressed employees.</i><br />
<br />
The possibly robust derivative of this phenomenon – the three hundred and sixty degree appraisal in which an employee is appraised by his superiors, peers and subordinates – is something experimented with very gingerly by some select corporate organisations, preferring to perch on the comfortable fence and wait till it becomes one of the undeniable norms of the employer of choice.<br />
<br />
Why do corporations continue with this trait? Why do leaders they say they want candour in the workplace, but refuse to change the most obvious impediment to such truth telling? And why do they uncritically accept the notion that there is but one truth — the manager's?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TJ-Pfs2gneI/AAAAAAAAIjE/AyDclNj30GM/s1600/appraisal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TJ-Pfs2gneI/AAAAAAAAIjE/AyDclNj30GM/s1600/appraisal.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Culbert says that this can be attributed to intellectual laziness to bring in alternative solutions, the leadership ego, the reservation to being proved wrong in front of peers and subordinates and unwillingness to fix internal processes. The looming performance review protects the manager from dealing with how subordinates really feel. It’s like an anaesthetic: The unhappiness and anger is still there, but the manager doesn’t have to feel a thing.<br />
<br />
This view, according to me, is a bit harsh on the managers. There is indeed a definite degree of truth in the fact that managers like the authority, to use much utilised terms like <i>attitude problem</i> and <i>insubordination</i> to subdue a threatening junior. However, it can also be attributed to the fact that reward and recognition is so intricately woven into our social interactions, that we cannot contemplate work without review. It is not only the manager, but also the employee who is equally at a loss here to supply a change.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Well, Culbert does promote the performance preview method.<br />
Deming offers his method of educated leadership, responsible hiring, training and education, lengthy constructive discussions and focusing on quality. There are also other ideas and opinions which suggest ways and means to implement processes les ridiculous.<br />
<br />
However, in a culture where people continually focus on the next three months, organisations whose human resources themselves flow about in the constant waves of attrition, where the absolute management focus is on the bottom line, next quarter and valued clients, the recruitment strategy based on immediate hires to fit burning requirements promised to the client, the corporation an organism with psychopathic character traits, the sole guiding factor for which is the returns, who will be providing the necessary thought leadership to ensure a change of process that itself is a paradigm shift across the corporate world?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TJ-RDhpOR7I/AAAAAAAAIjI/bmUiN7-Fzw8/s1600/appraisal2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TJ-RDhpOR7I/AAAAAAAAIjI/bmUiN7-Fzw8/s1600/appraisal2.jpg" /></a></div>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7821708646588635823.post-79743173719257660272010-09-12T14:15:00.000-07:002011-01-28T00:39:59.304-08:00Lean Liposuction Process, Survival of the Fattest, Heisenberg and Social Cybernetics<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The instructor from England sat in front of me. We had been joined at the lunch table by two ladies, of different companies and nationalities, one British, one German, once pretty now etched across the face with experience, plenty of pet peeves.</div><div><br />
<div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div><div style="margin: 0px;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TI1IU8ynp6I/AAAAAAAAIhI/PhPHUIAVZnM/s1600/leanprocess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TI1IU8ynp6I/AAAAAAAAIhI/PhPHUIAVZnM/s200/leanprocess.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="margin: 0px;">The seminar on Lean Thinking was going full blast, and already several insights had been drawn into the application of the concepts in a non-manufacturing, so called 'knowledge' industry.</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
</div>“I fully agree with what you have shared,” the British lady gushed, her plate more full of problems than the vegetation of age battling health salad. “Meetings, more meetings, where twenty people get into a room and one speaks for an hour, the rest drifting off to dreamland. That’s nineteen person hours down the drain.”</div></div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div>The German woman buzzed in, with the conviction in her voice making up for her heavy accent and lack of linguistic fluency.</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Twenty, for who listens? And all ze mails …”</div><div><br />
</div><div>The English lady picked up the thread like an expert weaver of reasoning. “Mails, and, well,the mailers. So many of them. Not only do you keep scanning the new ones and pressing shift delete, the mailbox runs out of space whenever you take a couple of days off. And soon you are clearing your mailbox for a good hour or two…”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“And attention flits … your sinking …zey are …”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Yes, with mails and the ad hoc demands on our time … we want this with top priority by EOD. Heavens … drop everything and do this before getting back to what you were doing. We could boost our productivity by at least 200% if it was not necessary to re-gather thoughts every second minute because of changing management priorities and press releases…”</div><div><br />
</div><div>I decided that gobbling burger and french fries and was not ideal contribution to what was on paper a conversation – corporate trainings imply creating connections as well.</div><div><br />
</div><div>“A friend of mine – a psychiatrist – says that people in corporate jobs, especially in the Information Technology sector, are prone to Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>My nugget of Dr. Roy’s wisdom was submerged in the tide of tirade against current corporate processes. “Even if everyone creates a rule to delete the mails that come from certain mailboxes, can you imagine the amount of effort it would take on the part of the employees to blah blah blah blah ….”</div><div><br />
</div><div>Once the number of blahs had reached the vicinity of the myriad, our instructor looked up from his soup for the first time and asked, “But, can you actually change the situation? Can you stop the mails, the ad hoc requests and meetings?”</div><div><br />
</div><div>English and German agreement has been historically hard to come by, but the two ladies nodded their synchronized heads and started planning the change process.</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Yes, it can change if we blah blah blah blah ....”</div><div>“It is ze finking zat needs blah blah zis zat blah blah zis zat”</div><div><br />
</div><div>French fries may be in drastic unhealthy contrast to health salad, but the crispy, oily, salty bites do take your mind off excessively motivated manifesto. I wondered whether the instructor diving deep into the bottom of his soup bowl was an equivalent evasive action. The ladies were in their late forties, so I was not too keen on indulging the visual senses either after shutting down my aural ones.</div><div><br />
</div><div>It was in the men’s room that he winked at me.</div><div>“Our dear ladies are very passionate.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“If there is one thing I have learned in all my working years, it is never to expect much from my job.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>Perhaps politically incorrect, and hence, it strengthened the bonds of fellowship. The instructor winked at me again and raised his thumb.</div><div><br />
</div><div>“That’s what I call real experience.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>I laughed.</div><div>“Isn’t that a bit unusual coming from an intense instructor of lean thinking?”</div><div><br />
</div><div>He looked at me with twinkling eyes.</div><div>“You think so? I would say your attitude of not expecting too much from your job is probably the best lean thinking I have witnessed, if you speak on a personal note.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>We came out into the lobby and he continued.</div><div>“If you try to change corporate organisations because you are struck by excellent ideas, and expect things to change for the better, what do you think usually happens?”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“I generally ended up fighting a lot of bureaucracy in my young and inexperienced days.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Exactly,” he laughed. “You will strive to change the whole process of working, fight losing battles with managers who have long back lost their ability to listen. Can you fight the corporate demands of immediately preparing a presentation because the client has smiled at the account manager from the twenty fourth floor as he was entering the building? Will you ever get away saying that ad hoc requests are not lean because it clutters your thought?”</div><div><br />
</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TI1DbkBgN1I/AAAAAAAAIhA/5AO_TKK4P8k/s1600/bain+of+the+firm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TI1DbkBgN1I/AAAAAAAAIhA/5AO_TKK4P8k/s200/bain+of+the+firm.jpg" width="186" /></a></div>I spent a moment thinking about it. He continued. </div><div>“So the best thing to do is expect nothing more. You can’t change it. And by this method of Lean Personal Thinking, you save a lot of wasted personal energy, emotions and time in trying to change the machinery.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Tell me P***,” I said, “Do you see the same sort of useless effort and inefficiency in every company?”</div><div><br />
</div><div>He nodded and looked surreptitiously to each side.</div><div>“Every company can increase its efficiency by at least 100% and reduce costs incredibly ... but that is not to be.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Why not?”</div><div><br />
</div><div>He smiled and took his seat in the lounge, in no apparent hurry to get the post lunch session started.</div><div>“What is a corporate organisation? It is not a cutting edge research centre where only the best can get the required job done. A corporate organisation is nothing but a networked organism in the animal kingdom of society ...”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“That’s new ...”</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div>“Not really. Have you heard of Cybernetics?”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Isn’t it a subject which deals with machine response ...?”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“More than that. It was developed to study machine behaviour, but it is a cross discipline study of the behaviour of any dynamic system, be it machine or organism. There is a very complicated book by Stafford Beer which talks about the Cybernetics of a Firm. In that the organisation is treated as an organism ...”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“The author’s last name sounds ominous.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>He laughed.</div><div>“Okay, I will give that to you. But in effect, corporations are the source of livelihood for a great number of people. In the field of socio-cybernetics, it is governed by a theory of the survival of the fattest."</div><div><br />
</div><div>I almost threw half my coffee down my trachea.</div><div>“What was that?”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Not too surprising, my friend. Whereas survival of the fittest is definitely true for evolution, for survival of a species it also has to have a degree of fat. Look at the human body. Even considering all the modern day fitness fanatics, a minimum percentage of body fat is essential”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“And where does the corporation come into the picture?”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“If the corporation is viewed as a creature, then believe me, this animal needs a lot of fat to survive. Else, with lean liposuction, it will be drained into an elitist work environment, something it was not meant to be. A thousand employees mean a lot of mediocrity, and this mediocrity has to survive – and climb the corporate ladder as well. And in this survival of the fattest, lean and efficiency does not really enter the picture. Inefficiency is essential. Else almost always efficiency can be increased threefold while decreasing man power by fifty percent ...”</div><div><br />
</div><div>I wondered about this for a while as the corporate executives walked about in their smart suits.</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Are you serious?”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Never been more. If you want me to see me as a comedian, you have to follow me into the class. You think you won’t get mailers about the great week ahead and what the dumbass CEO said in the latest issue of Financial Times? All because of this lean fad? How will the great communication wokforce of the company make its living? Half of that team will have to leave. Makes sense?”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Make that 88% of the team. Yes it does.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>He sighed.</div><div>“I will give you a very painful, if not absolutely relevant example, the mention of which tugs at the strings of my heart. But, you, a Dutchman, won’t really feel my sorrow. You know what Ashes is?”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Of course ... I don’t smoke myself, but ...”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Forget it ... I am English, from Sheffield. A cricket buff. Ashes is the name given to the traditional England versus Australia test match rubber. Ah, in Amsterdam rubber has a different connotation. However, let me say that whoever wins the series is said to win the Ashes. The countries have been playing each other for over a hundred and thirty years ...”</div><div><br />
</div><div>I was interested. “A Malcolm Gladwell sort of example, is it?”</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TI1CdDxe12I/AAAAAAAAIgw/Wl9HJDIq8r8/s1600/bodyline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TI1CdDxe12I/AAAAAAAAIgw/Wl9HJDIq8r8/s200/bodyline.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div>“Overall, except a few years in the fifties, using questionable methods in a thirties series and against a couple of weak Australian teams in the seventies and eighties, it has been the land down under who has generally been on top. They have won more than a hundred and thirty tests against us, while we are still struggling to reach a hundred. And guess what ... in spite of playing more or less the same number of test matches over the same period of time, the efficient Australians have capped just over four hundred players. While we English have had six hundred and fifty.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“So, efficiency means fewer hands ...”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Yes, and hence, less employment. Cricket is a highly specialised sport. Think of any corporate job. most people can do it, with an apology of training."</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Come on ...be generous.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Including teaching Lean processes, let me add. So, in the corporate world, the numbers are yet more skewed in favour of inefficiency. And think of the number of hands it is necessary to cut off if efficiency rules. Society cannot afford that. An organisation is a complex creature with fierce survival instinct. At every level, it rebels against efficiency. There is a sort of Heisenberg principle in the corporate world ...”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Heisenberg? Uncertainty?”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Not uncertainty of measurement, but of improvement ... Efficiency of an organisation cannot be improved without modifying its size. Hence, given a constantly great number of people, we cannot have efficiency. Ironically, in such organisations, growth is equated in terms of the number of people employed. And the unpleasant truth is that people now touted as management gurus, who claim decisions taken straight from the gut, now speak of management strategies, six sigma, lean processes as their roadmaps to brilliance - all of them have used rationalising to power their career.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Everyone rationalised?”</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TI1CrtD8yYI/AAAAAAAAIg4/l4Gix2CdXgw/s1600/lahey_16a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nR70wBrt4xM/TI1CrtD8yYI/AAAAAAAAIg4/l4Gix2CdXgw/s320/lahey_16a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div>“The ones who did not tilted the balance in their way by manipulating other factors ... it is the survival or the social organism in question ... so if fat is not cut out, it needs to be compensated by discharge of undesired substances ...”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“I guess you are mixing up metaphors.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“I guess in that case you know what I mean. www.Cleanupge.org is a good reference site.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>The two ladies poked their synchronised heads out of the classroom door. My new friend signalled that he would be on his way.</div><div><br />
</div><div>“I will revert back to my tutor mode and become a champion of lean thinking. However remember what I told you, and don’t try to do too much about it. Remember, think lean for yourself.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Cool. Thanks a lot, P***.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“If I had said all this to the ladies, they might have tried to reform the whole system ... with protest marches and demonstrations against corporations. I am not here to teach all that. I love lean thinking. But, you already have insight into the corporate world, as you proved with your observation in the toilet. It is rare knowledge that I have shared with you ... share it with prudence.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>“Ouch,” I said. “I was wondering whether to blog it. Share it with the world.”</div><div><br />
</div><div>He laughed. “Only if you don’t mention my name. You can blog. That is actually sharing knowledge prudently and in a lean manner. Do it once, and only the seekers will find it. The rest will either not read it or find it too bitter for their convictions to digest. So post by all means.”</div><div>We walked into the class again and within minutes I was jotting down my thoughts. Lean Personal Process, Survival of the Fattest, Social Cybernetics, Corporate Heisenberg Principle ... this was one training session I would not forget.</div><div><br />
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</div>Senantix (Arunabha Sengupta)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13789085162180680309noreply@blogger.com1