The Diary of a Sales Man(ager)

Disclaimer: The article below is a piece of fiction, but it does bear strong resemblance to people living (and maybe a few otherwise). It is a satirical work only to bring to light the funny, yet real side of a world we call Sales, and should be taken in a sporting spirit. (If any of my mangers- present or future, happen to be reading this, I confess it was written under heavy over dosage of paranoia due to a phenomenal week of sales; it should not be held against me!)

Just a few miles south west off the Lucknow city lies a huge municipal dumping ground. Recycling and Hygiene are words pretty much alien to the area, so no point taking a guess about when the area would have been last cleaned (attempted). If questioned, I am certain the authorities would defend by stating that it is a strategy to keep unlawful activists at bay! The repugnant smell is strong enough to take care of a mini army (don’t judge the authorities- with a state of size this big, it needs all the help it can muster). Nevertheless, the dumping yard serves as an artificial habitat for numerous pests and rodents. Meandering on the path right next to the site yesterday, I spotted a book on one of the troughs. Well, people have miraculously found the The Book of Eli, or The Book of Love....so I thought to myself, what if I would have just found myself some treasure guide (Lucknow has been the city of Nawabs after all). To my amazement, it was titled ‘Diary of a Sales Manager’, by Raman Chadha (name changed to preserve the true identity). It seems to be an agonising weekly account of a Sales martyr working with some telecom company. Google happens to return just an FB account, my friend request for which is still pending at his end. Anyways, coming back to the book, it happens to be well read, as the pages are all messed up (ask the rodents!!!). I have been trying to reconstruct of whatever is left of it, and the following are a few excerpts I have successfully extracted so far:

“Date: 28th July, 2010

Dear Diary,

I completed 1 month of my first job today. It has been such a steep learning curve for my personality that I am geared up to face my next interview already, if only they would quiz me about my abusive language! That’s right, my vocabulary has been improving day by day, and going with this speed, I shall master the art of Sales verbal expression before my promotion (somebody told me that the promotion itself is based on the Sales vocabulary; wider your vocab, more is your PLI, better chances of a promotion). To be honest, it has been a true test of mettle, the Punjabi accented ‘galiz’ which I picked up all my graduation years in Delhi won’t work in this part of the country.......‘bhaiyyaji’ wouldn’t understand a thing. It is the most frustrating moment for a punjabi when he is madly spewing out anger and the bhaiyyaji  on the receiving end isn’t responding in a meek fashion that would make you feel like The Manager, only because he wouldn’t understand a word.  

The other achievement quite connected to the above mentioned one is the anger mismanagement rule. You just have to be the Angry Young Man at all times, hands down! And that is irrespective of the circumstances, even if your team performed well today- just shout at them.....because that is the rule. After all, the rule percolates top-down, and you shall be treated no differently.”

“ Date: 7^th August, 2010

............a routine day, started with a meeting with the Boss! I wonder whether it is his love for numbers or hatred for me which makes him ask me the same question each morning- “Kitna Number? (how many numbers?)” As usual, my Good Morning Sir Colgate Smile turns to inverted parabola and I respond with the innocence of a 10 year kid....”Sir excuse me, but I dint get you (knowing very well that he is asking me how many sales would I do today).” Its a stupid question really, how can I predict that? I am no Nostradamus, if I were, I wouldn’t be here! I justify this each subsequent morning when my promise falls short by 50-60%. But he makes me do it each morning, and  I keep thinking- what a silly way of humiliating an employee, only if he would not be spoiling my mood early morning, I would be overachieving or atleast meeting my promises. But I know he wouldn’t like that, more is never enough here, targets are revised every hour of the day, its like being in the stock market, where the stock values keep spinning your head,......Radheyshyam (a fellow Sales Man) summed it perfectly- “There is no Month End for Sales people.....we have Closings daily!”

“Don’t worry Sir, I will cover the loss by next week......”

“ Date: 15^th August, 2010

.............is it really the Independence Day? I am still ruing the unbelievably low Sales figures of the day before.....how could this have happened? I seldom meet Boss’s fantasy targets, but what about my own realistic targets.....maybe because there is an extent to which I could go.

Boss- Raman! Push the product...Push! Push! Push!

Raman (in my mind)- Thank you Sir, but you are grossly mistaken if you think that I am pregnant! Why don’t you give me loaded pistol, sales might become easier at gunpoint!

I overheard Vishu (a telecaller from my team) do a sales call today:

Vishu (with complementing expressions) to a customer- You have time till 11 o clock. Don’t you dare not submit your documents by that time. Our field agent will come to you and deliver the product; you will make me extremely unhappy if you don’t accept it. I have spent three days convincing you now; I have my own targets to meet! Understood?

The customer actually took three connections from us later in the day, and there has been no Customer complaint pending my name till now, I am keeping my fingers crossed. As for my Boss, I told him- “Don’t worry Sir, I will cover the loss by next week......”

“Date: 29^th August, 2010

..........month end review meet, with all the Sales Mans present. The Boss kept rambling about our incompetence and we had the same inverted parabolas. After a painful couple of hours, I was expecting we would not talk amongst each other out of sheer shock, but dear Radheyshyam said- “Let us eat some Tunday Kebabs.” I thought he had lost his mind, after all, we had just come out of a extremely depressing review, but he was adamant. “Dude! You need to cheer up! This is a part of the monthly routine....look at the rest of us, we are all giggling and mimicking each other, gradually you will start enjoying these meetings. Start being indifferent.” Shyam was right, I came to realize that these review meets were always followed by booze n dine parties thrown by the senior management itself. I found that very strange while dancing late that night....nobody had a clue what we were celebrating...maybe we were expecting an even worse performance! I mustered the courage to ask the Boss- “Sir! I fail to understand any possible reason for the party.” He replied- “Son! Here in Lucknow we always feed the Goat well before the festival of Eid!” There, an important lesson learned. Before the booze could take effect, I signed off the night by saying the golden words:

“Don’t worry Sir, I will cover the loss by next week......”

“Date: 8^th September, 2010

..............what an insanely ironic situation! After the immense pressure that we had from the corporate regarding billing the stock to the distributors, I did what was expected of me....billed the latest product! The pressure had been mounting b’coz it was being touted as the ‘product that would rock the market’ and yet no Sales Man had billed it up till then....after I thought I was through with the hardest part of Sales (Push! Push! Push!), I was informed that we were out of stock (and not because the product had been miraculously sold off in 1 day, but because we were still waiting for the stock to arrive to the warehouse...all the pressure for no reason, isn’t that brilliant? And since I was busy ‘pushing the product’ I couldn’t focus on the sales. Hence, again...

“Don’t worry Sir, I will cover the loss by next week.....”

“Date: 22^nd September, 2010

..........i wonder why Radheyshyam keeps telling me after every discussion-“Thats not our job. Thats not what we are supposed to do!” I am always left thinking what is it that is my job then? Is it only to make a fool out of everybody else? Is it stupid to expect the system to help, if not change? And what about the customer....what did that poor fella do? Am I not even responsible to help him resolve his problems? Radhey tells me that the definition of a customer is ‘cust/mer----jo kasht se marr raha ho’ (someone who is dying of pain) ...”

I am working on the rest of this diary. This account is an eye opener. It tells me that the sales job is an enigma. Even the people who are doing it are not clear what their job profile is. You just need street smart people who are capable of playing the game, and not by the rules! You have got to outdo everybody else, fellow sales mans, customer, and even your bosses. There is no ally in this game, it is a tussle of a Sales Man against the whole world. So next time, don’t blame his angry young man look. He is not suffering from a personality disorder; expect him to be laughing out loud at his own misery (or somebody else’s)  seconds after thrashing out people. I honestly don’t know about you, but I have started sympathising for this poor guy, look what sales did to him.....it could only be attributed to intense sales pressure, that he martyred trying to sell the rocking product to the rodents...why else would his account be found here....hats off!

Seven Minutes

Let me clarify at the very outset that this article has no connection with Irwing Wallace, and infact it is not even remotely connected to his piece (those interested may actually go for the rather modern adaptation by Paulo Coelho). Seven minutes is the approximate time that it used to take me to walk through a rather interesting path from my college till the T-point that hit the main road, which then lent itself to the shady by-lanes of Katwaria Sarai. In the vicinity of at least 5 B-Schools, it is not surprising that the area was flooded with students all the time, and is precisely where I spent the last 2 years of being an MBA student!

I say interesting because of the fact that there have been countless instances when you are supposed to come prepared in class with some presentation, some article, some assignment….and what do you do??? You just put in tonnes of hard work……and only when you are sweating to the point that girls stop entering the TT (table tennis- the author’s passion) room saying “Oh My God!! Is there a dead rat in here or whattt!!!” do you leave the crazy room and sleep yourself off to glory; oblivious to the surprises that God (& the Professor) has in store for you the very next morning. Your roommates kick your backside in the morning and somehow throw you out for the class. The dead rats are taken care of thanks to the ‘Axe Effect’ but what about the case/presentation/assignment….that is when one realizes the worth of those seven minutes.....

While the MBA course is said to be a mixture of diverse minds (well in India that is seldom the scene- I had 70% engineers in my batch and most of them used to think alike), I realized that this ‘seven minute’ thread tied most of us together. Everybody had their own seven minutes, my roomie used to have his while eating his daily staple diet - a banana....some may have had it during answering the nature’s call, while some (and only a few) may have had theirs while taking a bath, multitasking by singing ‘Waka Waka...This time for Africa’ (with the passion which would make you wonder whether they would substitute Torrez in the next match, or if they are currently dating Shakira).

For those with other professional paths, the golden question is- “What happens during these seven minutes?” It actually depends on a lot of parameters, some of which I am listing down below:

• What is the current status of my attendance in that subject? (This is the 1^st thing any MBA student would calculate, and believe me when I say that we are the most optimistic creatures- our analysis always creates the feeling that we are better off than what we really are). So bunking is our 1^st choice for the course of action, a rather evasive one. Only when we are certain that it is not an option do we consider other things.

• Who is the Professor of the subject? (The subject in itself doesn’t matter to us, as we believe in practical learning anyways....it is always the professor that we think of) Our imagination on this parameter at times lends us to the professor’s wife as well- What if she didn’t treat the professor well enough.....What consequences would such an event have had on his mood in class today?

• How lengthy was the assignment/presentation? (Well, chances are very high that hours spent in alcohol last night would kept us aloof in this aspect, so I always recommend do have a couple of friends in each class- because they will save your ass during such testing circumstances). That is because if your ‘friend’ tells you it isn’t that long, you start arranging for a pen and a paper (yeah, we don’t start off with such things)....have another 'friend' ready for the same!

• If it is an exam or an individual assignment for which we can be embarrassed amongst the more learned ones in class, we analyze if our cellphone has its battery charged? (if not, we try charging in those crucial seven minutes), does it have atleast a 1.3 megapixel camera? (picture resolution is the key to take effective pictures of the relevant book contents), hoping that we did not abuse our neighboring roll number students last night under the influence of alcohol.....All this is done to make sure we have all resources ready for what the world calls ‘Cheating' or 'Farre' in local language and what we call ‘Helping the Needy.’

• The cool dudes amongst us take the ‘Be Indifferent, Be different’ path...Their analysis tells them that they would be indifferent to whatever lashing the Prof would shell out.....they are too good to work (‘Workkkkkk......thats not what we are born for....gimme a breakkk!!!’ kinda’ attitude)....These humble human beings are wannabe cool dudes who would impress the chicas (if any) of the class... (well, at some point or the other, we all are guilty of doing it!

• The last option depends on our guts and all the other factors mentioned above....The “Lets have some fun” option. This is exercised to break the monotonous routine of MBA education. When it comes to this, the seven minutes are spent on thinking about the weirdest excuse anybody could ever think of.....the intention here is not to sound funny, but to irritate the Prof, so that he throws you out of the class and you are back to playing the dead rat for those 90 minutes. We don’t even consider the option of thinking of a reasonably genuine sounding excuse ('Aaaaarghhhh, thats for school kiddos, gimme another breakkkk!').

If I have shaken your belief to ever consider an option of doing an MBA, there is some respite......we do have 1% students who would be right on the button.....never floundering on any time schedules, you can call them the ‘A+ Guys’ (but please don’t call them Geeks...after all, this is the 1% that constitutes the ‘Friend’ for the rest 99%). And these guys have their seven minutes too (or multiples), mostly while commuting to college, just like me.....but the difference being that whereas my mind used to be occupied analyzing the above mentioned options, the ‘A+ Guys’ would utilize it what they called ‘Revising’....flipping sheets of paper all over the place!

The MBA experience is just like Life....growing by learning....each such episode lets us play with the options the next time, tuning our brains to attempt coming up with better choices, but the base remains the same! The intention of writing this piece was to remind my friends of those fascinating 2 years of our lives which brought us all together....for cherishing those ‘seven minutes’ which we now call sweet memories part of our past.

P.S.: I apologise for the continuous transition of the tenses in the article. I started writing this when I was still pursuing the MBA programme, and I just tried to maintain originality at some places. What gave me the inspiration to complete the article are similar experiences in my current Sales job, which just hints that Life is a full circle.....the characters have changed- the Professor has been substituted by my Manager, and my ‘Friends’ by my ‘Colleagues’....time to create more memories!!!

The Chronicles of Naraina!!!

Three months since the last (and my 1^st) blog entry! It goes to show what a busy last sem MBA life gives you (don’t just freak out, studies/presentations/project reports/lectures are not the only things that can keep you busy). But all that is past me now, and a promise to my best friend brings me back to the world of blogging!

I just realized what a wonderful place Delhi is! When you are just chewing your thinking hat off regarding what to write, it senses your agony and just spews something at you. While returning from South Ex yesterday (which by the way is inevitably a painful journey and seems to last till eternity, and often makes me rue the fact of having my home in North Delhi), I donned the hat of an avid (aspiring actually) blogger.

Once upon a time there used to be a magical place called Naraina. For my friends who have no idea of this journey, let me just tell you that Naraina’s magical powers are different but no less than the legendary Narnia’s (pun intended). It blocks the way of any commuter making (read: trying) that journey. In the initial years, if there was a poll done in Delhi, I bet 90% of the respondents would have preferred a toll at Naraina rather than facing the 25 minutes traffic blockage. But, over the years when people realized that there is no escaping, they sort of adjusted their lives- ‘Husbands who had to leave early because of Naraina and would miss the morning talks with their wives would stop the car, call home and make up for it! Students who could never hit the morning lecture on time would always make the puppy face and tell their teacher- “Sir! You know naaa….Naraina!!!” I always used to fathom that soon would come a time when some morning/evening office meetings would take place within those 25 minutes, over a cup of honking cars….

Anyways, so I was quite confident that I will get sufficient time to observe fellow commuters to string through some story for my blog, when I actually saw the heaven’s gates open…..Yesssss, FINALLY, the Naraina flyover was ready and in full swing. Though I got to know that it was inaugurated 3 days back, but I could still see the glee on many first time Naraina flyover users. Their world had suddenly changed- no more stoppages, no more missing their wives, no more missing 1^st 5 overs of IPL matches, no more traffic excuses by overloaded students (genuine or whatever)! And 92.7 played a befitting song… “Tumhe kaise main bataaoon, kya main paa gaya hoon……” My head took 360s, and everywhere there was the same sight. You know, when you realize you are in love, and the heart beats really fast…it was a similar feeling, and some people really went overboard! While doing the jive, you may ‘accidentally’ put the wrong foot forward, and before you know, the car accelerates above 60Ks….you suddenly feel you are bazooking your way through in F1, and are the star performer of the show with the bikini clad gals chanting “go dude go…” The adrenaline gets the better of you, but long before you get the chance to open the Champagne bottle, evil strikes you……The Delhi Traffic Police!!! Well, if you are from Delhi (or for that matter from the remotest nook of India), an intriguing question always puzzles you- “Yaar ye Indian police humesha crime hone ke baad hi kyon aati hai?” Well, the traffic police story is somewhat different. They shall deprive you of their company when you are feeling sick amidst a traffic jam because some Blueline (read: The Beast) is trying to take a wrong turn….but if you are trying to play Michael Schumacher’s maniacal younger 2^nd cousin (driving at 70), you will see a whole flock of ‘em! Another ironic difference is that while you would wonder whether the Indian Policeman’s gun would work or not, the Indian Traffic Policeman’s Speed Gun always seems to work! What a pity for the aspiring Schumiz! Hats off to the traffic police (the same hat I was earlier donning and chewing)! The land of Naraina had changed forever. I witnessed a dozen cars doing the parade (i.e. slowing from 70 to 10 Ks and in 1 line) before stopping, pretty much like the lion in the circus meekly obeying at the hands of the ringmaster…the dreaded challan playing the cruel whip. So lucky I was not one of them….

P.S. I did manage to reach my home in 30 minutes, quite a miracle as compared to the arduous 1 hour minimum that it used to take me before. And those were my Chronicles of Naraina!!!