The Fatal ‘Head’ache — II

[Disclaimer: Although this post is based on a true story, it should be seen as a work of fiction. There is no intention to imply anything.]

Prelude

June 2008: Those were the worst of times for the global economy. The sub-prime mortgage crisis in the US had snowballed into a full-fledged credit crisis. Economists and financial experts had gone full throttle with their systemic-risk rhetoric. Millions of jobs were at stake globally.

Against such a backdrop, I was rehired by a leading knowledge process outsourcing firm to work on a pilot project. A lot was at stake. I was quite happy to return and prepared myself for a longer stint. I didn’t want to leave the firm, but had to part ways two years back due to some pressing health issues. But, destiny had some other grand designs for me. The pilot failed. My manager resigned, shouldering the responsibility of failure. And I was left with no project to work on. It wasn’t the best of times to become a surplus staff as well — most companies were desperately ‘right-sizing’ to stay afloat.

After being shuttled from one team to another for a month, one day, all of a sudden, I was plugged into the editorial team headed by Nishigandha (fictitious). I was visibly upset, but chose to stay calm. There were just two options — accept what I was being offered or quit. i had thought about quitting once, but then I chose to do take up the challenge. I knew it was just a matter of time – I was never short of skill; I needed to mend my confidence.

A couple of weeks passed off peacefully. But, there was not much headway. One day, a team member told me that they were planning an offsite to Jim Corbett National Park and asked me whether I would be interested to join them. At first, I thought about opting out of it, but then decided to join in. The trip would help me connect with my new colleagues better, I thought.

I was right. The trip to Jim Corbett was indeed quite refreshing. My teammates sang, danced, recited and made merry, forgetting past equations and looking forward to newer ones. I too pitched in with a few Hemant Kumar numbers to get into the groove. Some people liked it, some didn’t, but praised my ‘singing abilities’ nonetheless. The sense of being part of a team, which had been eluding me for some time, resurfaced. But, I knew that much was left to be done before ‘I’ and ‘they’ become ‘we’.

My dear readers, it’s now time to welcome you to the unfolding world of volatile workplace relationships, clandestine or otherwise, of bitching, politicking and harassment.

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I looked at my watch. It was seven in the evening. Thirty more minutes and my shift would get over. Tired and exhausted, I was anxious to be home. A trip downstairs for a smoke seemed a good idea. As I prepared to leave my workstation, the instant messenger (IM) started to blink. It was Nishigandha.

“Can you please take a meeting room?” was the message.

“Sure,” I replied.

A chill ran down my spine. The best and the worst thing about technology is that it connects you with a person, without giving you the faintest idea about what’s going in the other person’s mind. I left my seat quickly to look for a vacant meeting room, fearing the worst. I had been performing reasonably well, but, with newspaper headings screaming about retrenchments almost every day, the future looked quite uncertain.

I had first seen Nishigandha during my induction. She had taken a session on anti-sexual harassment policies. She had appeared quite strict and disciplined, and seemed to have had a no nonsense approach to work. She had told us that not only her team members were scared of her, but also her manager. And, that first impression about her had somewhat got imbibed in my mind as the last impression.

I managed to find a meeting room rather quickly, took a seat and waited for her impatiently. The wait seemed never ending. After a couple of minutes, she entered the room. We exchanged cordial smiles. But, to my surprise, she didn’t take her seat and began sauntering, from one corner of the room to another.

“So, how is it going?” she asked.

“So far so good,” I replied; it was almost inaudible.

She inquired about certain projects on which I was supposed to work. I briefed her about those as much as I could. Then, she narrated to me how difficult it had been to induct me, as there had been a strong resistance from team members. I began preparing my mind, as I could sense the arrival of doom. I had heard about this sandwich technique of providing feedback, but had always been more comfortable with calling a spade a spade.

“But don’t worry, I will put things in order. I just need to do a lot of convincing for you,” she told me in a reassuring tone.

I heaved a sigh of relief, and thanked her silently for what she had done and also for what she promised to do for me. I looked at my watch once again. It was now seven-forty. My cab would leave in another five minutes.

“Nishigandha, may I leave? My cab would be leaving in five minutes. And if I miss this one, I will have to either wait till 9:30 for the next cab or hire a cab,” I told her — this time a bit loud.

It wasn’t something she didn’t know, but I thought I should remind her gently of the latest cab schedules. Hiring a cab was the last thing I wanted to do after a tiring day – not just because I would have to shell out 450 bucks, but also because it would be tough to get hold of one during peak hours. I waited impatiently for her permission to leave the room and rush downstairs to join my waiting cab mates.

She suddenly stopped and gave me a how-could-you-be-so-impatient look. “Chalo, fine, jaane se pahle, mujhe Hemant Kumar-ka ek gaana suna do (it’s okay, but before leaving sing a Hemant Kumar number for me),” she said with a grin on her face.

[To be continued]