TIME CAN EXPAND OR CONTRACT, DEPENDING ON HOW ENGAGED YOU ARE IN YOUR WORK
Aking wanted the perfect groom for his daughter. So he travelled to the abode of the gods to find out who the most perfect man ever created was. When he returned with the information, the world had changed dramatically: a hundred years had passed, his daughter and his entire family had died and no one remembered him. He then learned that time flows faster in the realm of the gods and a day there equals a hundred years on earth.
In another story, the gods asked a hermit to fetch them a pot of water. As the hermit dipped the pot in the water, he saw a beautiful girl. He fell in love with her and asked her to marry him. She agreed immediately and so the hermit became a householder and had children by the woman, and the children had children of their own. In his old age, there was suddenly a great flood. The river broke its banks and washed everything away: his home, his children, his grandchildren, even his wife. He was left ashore alone, without anything, when suddenly he heard the gods shout, “Please pull out the pot and give us the water!” The hermit realised he had been dreaming all along.
In the first story, what seems like a day turns out to be a lifetime while in the second story, what seems like a lifetime turns out to be a second. In the former, time contracts. In the latter, time expands. This is a common theme in Hindu mythology. What makes time change qualitatively is attention. When you are concentrating, time contracts. When you are not concentrating, time expands.
Nikhilesh loves working with Mark. Mark has the ability to turn every project into a game with so much fun that everyone comes early to work, leaves late and no one feels tired. Time passes quickly and weekends feel boring and terrible. Nikhilesh does not speak of worklife balance; work is life and life is work. His wife enjoys seeing Nikhilesh this way, as he brings the energy and joy of work back home, to everybody’s delight.
But Nikhilesh had a very different experience when he worked with Dinakar. Dinakar was no fun. Every meeting was a drag. Everybody had to fill in long reports and long forms. Everything was read and discussed, but no one really paid attention. Every minute of the meeting was documented and filed and circulated. It was torture to go to work and a joy to return home. But the boredom and irritable mood at office travelled home and Nikhilesh would often snap at his wife.
Mark managed to contract time by making everything a joyful activity. Dinakar expanded time by making everything a boring chore. Time passes fast when we are having a good time. Time moves slowly when we are not.
The best way to see figure out organisational culture is to see how people behave during lunchtime. If they are eagerly waiting for the break, it means time is passing slowly at their workstations. If they forget the lunch break, then they clearly are doing something at the workstation that they’re enjoying a lot. Time is constantly contracting and expanding at the workplace.
[ The author is the Chief Belief Officer of the Future Group who can
reached at devdutt@devdutt.com]
Friday, October 14, 2011
Thursday, September 8, 2011
CRACKING THE CONUNDRUM
EMPLOYEES OFTEN FACE A DILEMMA BETWEEN FOCUSSING ON THE CUSTOMER OR FOCUSSING THE BOSS
Shiva, the ascetic god, sits in Kailas located high up in the snow capped Himalayan range as well as in Kashi located down in the plains, on the banks of the river Ganges. Atop Kailas, Shiva sits in serene meditation as the teacher, Adi Nath. Down below in Kashi, Shiva is Vishwanath, lord of the world, involved in activities of life and death, along with his consort Annapoorna, the goddess of food. In Kailas everything is still and silent and serene. But in Kashi kitchen fires burn along side crematoriums; there is the chaos of worldly life. The devotee is not sure if he should direct his devotion downstream towards Kashi where life is lived or upstream towards Kailas where liberation is granted. Which Shiva matters more?
There is Kailas and Kashi in the corporate world too - the boss sits in Kailas while the customers, in Kashi. Who should one focus on? The boss upstream or the customers downstream. Downstream is where performance happens and value is created, but upstream is where appraisal is done, and promotions granted.
People often say that if there is performance, and then rewards are bound to come. But anyone who has been through the appraisal process knows that there is a huge a gap between what happens is Kashi and what is perceived in Kailas. We may think we have performed brilliantly but when we receive the letter, we are quite disappointed with the contents: either the raise is too frugal, or the promotion is adequate enough.
Every employee works for his salary. The boss seated in Kailas has a direct impact on the payslip. The customer who is in Kashi has an indirect impact on the payslip. When events in Kashi have no direct correlation on the decisions taken at Kailas, attention shifts from customer satisfaction to boss management.
Santosh, the restaurant head in a luxury hotel, was furious. The general manager had given a promotion to Vipin, the front desk head. It was Santosh who worked day and night to ensure the guests were happy. It was Santosh who got the great customer ratings for the hotel. It was Santosh who ensured his team walked the extra mile to manage the tantrums of the many celebrities who came to the restaurant. In his view, Vipin did not do much of a job at the front desk where there were always issues with billing during rush hour, and irritated clients who arrived by the late night flight. Rather than focus on his team and his customers, Vipin seemed to focus more on buttering the boss. Santosh refused to be a yes-man or sidekick to the general manager. He felt the general manager should measure him on the basis of his performance and not on the basis of interpersonal relationship. So when he learnt that Vipin had got a better rating than him at the appraisal he felt betrayed. He lost interest in work. He felt it was time to quit and move on. Kailas, he felt, had ignored the reality of Kashi.
This is the irony of the corporate world. Despite all efforts to create an objective foolproof appraisal system, it relies heavily on the subjectivity of those upstream while the real value is generated with customers way downstream. Events in Kashi happen every day but the pilgrimage upstream to Kailas happens barely once or twice a year during appraisal time. Ideally Kashi and Kailas should be one - customer satisfaction must determine employee appraisal. But this does not happen. So the employee wonders who is God actually - customer or boss?
[ The author is the Chief Belief Officer of the Future Group who can be
reached at devdutt@devdutt.com]
THE THEORY OF RETURN WHY WE SEEK ‘MOTIVATION’ TO DO WORK THAT WE ARE FAIRLY ‘COMPENSATED’ FOR
“What is Swarga?" Yayati asked Indra. Indra replied, "It is a place where you get everything without any effort. You stand under a tree called Kalpataru and wish for what you want - and you will have it. You stand before a cow called Kamadhenu and wish for what you want - and you will have it. You hold a jewel called Chintamani and wish for what you want - and you will have it." Yayati realized that Swarga was a place with infinite return despite zero investment.
Humans have always yearned for paradise. And to remind them of Swarga, humans have venerated and adored certain plants that bear fruit all year round with little or no effort. This is why the banana tree is auspicious. The tree does not require much maintenance but it provides delicious energy-rich fruit and leaves that can be used as plates. The same can be said of the coconut, part of every household ritual.
We all seek paradise, or a place closest to it. High return on investment is desirable. Or ideally high return with no investment. And that is what we do at work: to get a high ROI either employers demand increase returns or employees try to reduce investment. And it is often tough to measure either.
Sandeep was unemployed for six months. During his interview that finally landed him a job in a tuition class, he was determined to give his best show, work hard and prove to the employers that he was worth the salary they were paying him, even more. So in June of that year he started his job in full earnestness: arriving on time, preparing for his lectures, giving his full attention to the students, following up all home assignments with enthusiasm.
But two months later in August, Sandeep's enthusiasm had waned. The job had become routine and boring. There was no excitement. He felt his returns for the effort put in was too less. There was no chance of the salary being increased, and so he decided to increase his return by decreasing his investment. So yes, he did arrive on time and did do all his lectures, but he reduced his enthusiasm and attention. He gave lip service to the task at hand and refused to do more than what was expected of him in the job description handed out at the time of appointment.
The management then asked Sandeep to do some extra work, take two extra lectures a week. Sandeep refused as that was not part of the original agreement. The management showed him the fine print: he could be given extra assignments should the need arise. Now Sandeep felt exploited: he felt he was being asked to give more but he received the same remuneration has before. His return on investment was turning out to be low. But the management's return on investment was turning out to be high.
Enraged, irritated, exasperated, he decided to lower his inputs. He barely made it to the institute on time, dragged his feet into the lecture rooms, snapped at students, refused to prepare for sessions, barely glanced through home assignments, did not really engage with students, did just enough tasks to ensure he could defend himself should a complaint arise. During office hours, he tried to finish all his personal work. This was his way to increasing his return on investment.
Sandeep realized that tasks can be measured but attention cannot. By refusing to give attention to his work, he could decrease his investment and thereby increase his return on investment ratio. Now, the management is wondering why the teachers of their institute, Sandeep included, are demotivated. They have decided to call in a motivational speaker to stir the teachers, make them more enthusiastic, develop more ownership. But the teachers refuse. They fear if they do show enthusiasm, the management will end up getting more returns for the same investment.
This is the malaise that often spreads through corporations and is masked as boredom. It explains why we seek 'motivation' to do work that we are fairly 'compensated' for. It is our little quest for Swarga.
(The author is the Chief Belief Officer of the Future Group. He can be
reached at devdutt@devdutt.com)
Humans have always yearned for paradise. And to remind them of Swarga, humans have venerated and adored certain plants that bear fruit all year round with little or no effort. This is why the banana tree is auspicious. The tree does not require much maintenance but it provides delicious energy-rich fruit and leaves that can be used as plates. The same can be said of the coconut, part of every household ritual.
We all seek paradise, or a place closest to it. High return on investment is desirable. Or ideally high return with no investment. And that is what we do at work: to get a high ROI either employers demand increase returns or employees try to reduce investment. And it is often tough to measure either.
Sandeep was unemployed for six months. During his interview that finally landed him a job in a tuition class, he was determined to give his best show, work hard and prove to the employers that he was worth the salary they were paying him, even more. So in June of that year he started his job in full earnestness: arriving on time, preparing for his lectures, giving his full attention to the students, following up all home assignments with enthusiasm.
But two months later in August, Sandeep's enthusiasm had waned. The job had become routine and boring. There was no excitement. He felt his returns for the effort put in was too less. There was no chance of the salary being increased, and so he decided to increase his return by decreasing his investment. So yes, he did arrive on time and did do all his lectures, but he reduced his enthusiasm and attention. He gave lip service to the task at hand and refused to do more than what was expected of him in the job description handed out at the time of appointment.
The management then asked Sandeep to do some extra work, take two extra lectures a week. Sandeep refused as that was not part of the original agreement. The management showed him the fine print: he could be given extra assignments should the need arise. Now Sandeep felt exploited: he felt he was being asked to give more but he received the same remuneration has before. His return on investment was turning out to be low. But the management's return on investment was turning out to be high.
Enraged, irritated, exasperated, he decided to lower his inputs. He barely made it to the institute on time, dragged his feet into the lecture rooms, snapped at students, refused to prepare for sessions, barely glanced through home assignments, did not really engage with students, did just enough tasks to ensure he could defend himself should a complaint arise. During office hours, he tried to finish all his personal work. This was his way to increasing his return on investment.
Sandeep realized that tasks can be measured but attention cannot. By refusing to give attention to his work, he could decrease his investment and thereby increase his return on investment ratio. Now, the management is wondering why the teachers of their institute, Sandeep included, are demotivated. They have decided to call in a motivational speaker to stir the teachers, make them more enthusiastic, develop more ownership. But the teachers refuse. They fear if they do show enthusiasm, the management will end up getting more returns for the same investment.
This is the malaise that often spreads through corporations and is masked as boredom. It explains why we seek 'motivation' to do work that we are fairly 'compensated' for. It is our little quest for Swarga.
(The author is the Chief Belief Officer of the Future Group. He can be
reached at devdutt@devdutt.com)
Friday, August 5, 2011
TWO WORLDS
WORKPLACES CAN BE LIKE MADHUVAN. BUT THEY ARE MORE OFTEN KURUKSHETRAS
The story of Krishna can be divided into two parts: the Bhagavata part and the Mahabharata part. The first part is where he is in Madhuvan, playing the flute, drawing the milkmaids to dance with him outside the village, at night, in the forest. It is a place that is not governed by fear, or rules, or obligation, yet everything is synchronized to
form a perfect circle. The second part is where he is in Kurukshetra, riding a chariot, leading warriors to a bloodbath. It is a place of fear and rules and obligations and vendetta, where all rules of decency collapse.
Every employee who joins an organisation, hopes it to be Madhuvan: a place of joy and hope and growth and teamwork. Every employee who is leaving an organization describes the situation as Kurukshetra: a place of struggle and politics and insensitivity. We want our worlds to be governed by the principles of Bhagavata, but we are often faced with the terrible ways of the Mahabharata.
In a large company of seventy thousand people, Milind found his team of seven people always groaning and complaining and being nasty about everyone and everything from the management to the customer. As a young team leader, he felt he was in the heat of a
Kurukshetra battle every day. He realized that every organization had the same grouses with the management, with the admin, with the customer, with teammates. This is how most organizations were, even those who claimed very publicly to be employee-friendly. Maybe, he realised, this is how every employee sees an organization and everyone expects the world around him to transform. Who established Madhuvan and Kurukshetra? Does Krishna create these spaces or these spaces create Krishna? Are we fountainheads of circumstances or victims of circumstances?
Milind decided he had enough of the ‘issues’. Every day he would focus on what was positive in both professional and personal life. No negative conversations allowed, except on Tuesdays – which he called ‘vent-day’. Every day Milind would only discuss positive things. When there was a problem, the focus was on solutions. When there was a complaint, the focus was on resolution. He encouraged his team to do the same. They agreed reluctantly.
On Tuesday, Milind wore a black shirt and the day was spent only complaining and whining and in bouts of intense irritation. It took getting used to but in a few weeks, Milind’s team was a happier team, all organizations issues notwithstanding. Milind took a stand: he would transform his little world into Madhuvan. He realized the importance of the chariot festival of Jaggannath Puri where devotees pull the giant chariots hoping to bring Krishna back from Kurukshetra to Madhuvan. The point is to discover that only we, on our own, can close the Mahabharata chapter in our life and open the pages of the Bhagavata. If we wait for management to do it, we may be waiting for a long, very long, time.
[ The author is the Chief Belief Officer of the Future Group who can reached at devdutt@devdutt.com]
The story of Krishna can be divided into two parts: the Bhagavata part and the Mahabharata part. The first part is where he is in Madhuvan, playing the flute, drawing the milkmaids to dance with him outside the village, at night, in the forest. It is a place that is not governed by fear, or rules, or obligation, yet everything is synchronized to
form a perfect circle. The second part is where he is in Kurukshetra, riding a chariot, leading warriors to a bloodbath. It is a place of fear and rules and obligations and vendetta, where all rules of decency collapse.
Every employee who joins an organisation, hopes it to be Madhuvan: a place of joy and hope and growth and teamwork. Every employee who is leaving an organization describes the situation as Kurukshetra: a place of struggle and politics and insensitivity. We want our worlds to be governed by the principles of Bhagavata, but we are often faced with the terrible ways of the Mahabharata.
In a large company of seventy thousand people, Milind found his team of seven people always groaning and complaining and being nasty about everyone and everything from the management to the customer. As a young team leader, he felt he was in the heat of a
Kurukshetra battle every day. He realized that every organization had the same grouses with the management, with the admin, with the customer, with teammates. This is how most organizations were, even those who claimed very publicly to be employee-friendly. Maybe, he realised, this is how every employee sees an organization and everyone expects the world around him to transform. Who established Madhuvan and Kurukshetra? Does Krishna create these spaces or these spaces create Krishna? Are we fountainheads of circumstances or victims of circumstances?
Milind decided he had enough of the ‘issues’. Every day he would focus on what was positive in both professional and personal life. No negative conversations allowed, except on Tuesdays – which he called ‘vent-day’. Every day Milind would only discuss positive things. When there was a problem, the focus was on solutions. When there was a complaint, the focus was on resolution. He encouraged his team to do the same. They agreed reluctantly.
On Tuesday, Milind wore a black shirt and the day was spent only complaining and whining and in bouts of intense irritation. It took getting used to but in a few weeks, Milind’s team was a happier team, all organizations issues notwithstanding. Milind took a stand: he would transform his little world into Madhuvan. He realized the importance of the chariot festival of Jaggannath Puri where devotees pull the giant chariots hoping to bring Krishna back from Kurukshetra to Madhuvan. The point is to discover that only we, on our own, can close the Mahabharata chapter in our life and open the pages of the Bhagavata. If we wait for management to do it, we may be waiting for a long, very long, time.
[ The author is the Chief Belief Officer of the Future Group who can reached at devdutt@devdutt.com]
MUCH OBLIGED -THE WEAK ARE THE BURDENS THAT THE STRONG HAVE TO BEAR
THE WEAK ARE THE BURDENS THAT THE STRONG HAVE TO BEAR
In the Ramayana, the story goes that in his youth, during a hunt, mistaking the sound of a pot being immersed in water to the sound of a deer quenching its thirst, Dashrath accidentally shot dead a young man called Shravan Kumar. Shravan's aged parents cursed Dashrath that he too would suffer and die due to loss of his son, which explains the exile of Ram.
For most people, Shravan Kumar epitomizes the dutiful son. He was taking his old parents on a pilgrimage, carrying them in two baskets hanging from two ends of a staff slung over his shoulder. The image evokes feelings of love and duty towards parents. But it also evokes feelings of burden - a young man trapped by the sling of duty. Is Shravan Kumar carrying out his duty out of volition or obligation? Is it free will or the burden of fate? Most storytellers insist that Shravan served his parents out of love, in freedom, in complete volition. The audience will reject an alternate narrative. It would be considered blasphemy in India.
Yet obligation plays a key role in family businesses, which accounts for most businesses in India. One is obliged to serve in the family firm. One is obliged to provide opportunities to less fortunate and less talented family members. Obligation is seen as bondage, entrapment, enforced nobility.
Pratap's shoulders are bruised and bleeding because of the sling he has been carrying for the past 12 years. It is the sling with the many baskets where sit his father and his uncles, who first set up the family business. Ideally he would like to sell the old business for a huge profit and enjoy a life of leisure, maybe managing a small business that gives him a lot of free time. But he cannot. He has to work hard to keep the old ship running, employing relatives and old loyal staff, few of whom match his levels of competence. He cannot fire them, he cannot hire professionals at high salaries, he cannot disrupt the workings of the organisation dramatically. It will be a few years before he can shed burden of the elders. So he works with cousins and sisters and brothers-in-law, giving them tasks and dealing with their failures and insecurities and overestimations, forgiving their blunders, and in some cases their lack of ethics. He wants to fight back, but he cannot - he wants to be the good son. He wants to be Shravan Kumar.
To shed the burden of baskets is not easy. The social price will be too high. The world will look at him as a traitor and a selfish lout who abandoned family. He cannot deal with that rejection, not yet at least. So he carries on, making sure everyone knows how much he has sacrificed for them, demanding their respect and deference in return.
Modern management speaks of systems and processes and family constitutions to manage family issues. It looks at life and relationship in contractual terms. But there is no contract between Pratap and his family. It is an unspoken commitment that has cemented family businesses over generations, ensured that the weak are protected by the strong. The weak are the burdens that the strong have to bear. This slows down the pack, but it ensures that when the strong become weak, there is always a security blanket.
Pratap knows that when he is down and out, this very same family that he considers a burden today will take care of him and so he hesitates to shed the sling. Shravan-Kumar is taking care of his parents as his parents took care of their parents and thus providing a model for his children, in the hope they will comply and accept their burden of obligations.
[ The author is the Chief Belief Officer of the Future Group who can
reached at devdutt@devdutt.com]
In the Ramayana, the story goes that in his youth, during a hunt, mistaking the sound of a pot being immersed in water to the sound of a deer quenching its thirst, Dashrath accidentally shot dead a young man called Shravan Kumar. Shravan's aged parents cursed Dashrath that he too would suffer and die due to loss of his son, which explains the exile of Ram.
For most people, Shravan Kumar epitomizes the dutiful son. He was taking his old parents on a pilgrimage, carrying them in two baskets hanging from two ends of a staff slung over his shoulder. The image evokes feelings of love and duty towards parents. But it also evokes feelings of burden - a young man trapped by the sling of duty. Is Shravan Kumar carrying out his duty out of volition or obligation? Is it free will or the burden of fate? Most storytellers insist that Shravan served his parents out of love, in freedom, in complete volition. The audience will reject an alternate narrative. It would be considered blasphemy in India.
Yet obligation plays a key role in family businesses, which accounts for most businesses in India. One is obliged to serve in the family firm. One is obliged to provide opportunities to less fortunate and less talented family members. Obligation is seen as bondage, entrapment, enforced nobility.
Pratap's shoulders are bruised and bleeding because of the sling he has been carrying for the past 12 years. It is the sling with the many baskets where sit his father and his uncles, who first set up the family business. Ideally he would like to sell the old business for a huge profit and enjoy a life of leisure, maybe managing a small business that gives him a lot of free time. But he cannot. He has to work hard to keep the old ship running, employing relatives and old loyal staff, few of whom match his levels of competence. He cannot fire them, he cannot hire professionals at high salaries, he cannot disrupt the workings of the organisation dramatically. It will be a few years before he can shed burden of the elders. So he works with cousins and sisters and brothers-in-law, giving them tasks and dealing with their failures and insecurities and overestimations, forgiving their blunders, and in some cases their lack of ethics. He wants to fight back, but he cannot - he wants to be the good son. He wants to be Shravan Kumar.
To shed the burden of baskets is not easy. The social price will be too high. The world will look at him as a traitor and a selfish lout who abandoned family. He cannot deal with that rejection, not yet at least. So he carries on, making sure everyone knows how much he has sacrificed for them, demanding their respect and deference in return.
Modern management speaks of systems and processes and family constitutions to manage family issues. It looks at life and relationship in contractual terms. But there is no contract between Pratap and his family. It is an unspoken commitment that has cemented family businesses over generations, ensured that the weak are protected by the strong. The weak are the burdens that the strong have to bear. This slows down the pack, but it ensures that when the strong become weak, there is always a security blanket.
Pratap knows that when he is down and out, this very same family that he considers a burden today will take care of him and so he hesitates to shed the sling. Shravan-Kumar is taking care of his parents as his parents took care of their parents and thus providing a model for his children, in the hope they will comply and accept their burden of obligations.
[ The author is the Chief Belief Officer of the Future Group who can
reached at devdutt@devdutt.com]
THE JUNGLE OUT THERE
SENT INTO EXILE, YOU CAN EITHER BEHAVE LIKE RAM OR THE PANDAVAS
It is curious that the forest-exile is central to both Ramayana and Mahabharata, the twin epics of India. In the Ramayana, Ram goes into exile so that his father can keep his word to his step-mother, Kaikeyi. In the Mahabharata, the Pandavas go into exile following an agreement with their cousins, the Kauravas, when they lose their kingdom in a gambling match.
The reaction to the exile in both epics is startlingly different. In the Ramayana, Ram keeps saying that neither Kaikeyi nor his father should be blamed and the moment should be accepted as an act of destiny. In the Mahabharata, Pandavas keep blaming Kauravas and their uncle, Shakuni, for fraud and trickery. Ram looks calm and peaceful, even though he is clearly the victim of palace politics. The Pandavas on the other hand are angry and furious, never once taking responsibility for the fact that they gambled away their kingdom.
The loss of kingdom and exile into the forest is a metaphor for misfortune. But the approach to it distinguishes Ram from the Pandavas and makes the former a king worthy of worship.
Managers can be classified into Ramayana Managers and Mahabharata Managers. The former take responsibility for a situation, even if they are not to blame. The latter do not take responsibility for a situation, even if they are to blame. Ramayana managers typically internalise the problem. Focus on what they can do to manage and resolve the crisis. Mahabharata managers typically externalise the problem and spend a lot of time and energy finding people and processes to blame.
Two days after Raj moved to his new office, his entire team resigned. He was not the cause. A series of events had taken place before he joined the team and he was witnessing the exit process. Since Raj represented the senior management, on the second day of the job, he had to take exit interviews and hear all the outpourings of negative emotions of those leaving. He had to hear all the terrible things the organisation had done and how the person before him had betrayed their trust.
All Raj could do is go through the process, endure the irritation of the exiting team. He did it stoically, never getting angry for the awkward position he had been put in by the management, never complaining to his superiors, never regretting his decision to take up this new assignment, never feeling he had been duped into an unpleasant situation that was not of his own creation. In the large organisation, few knew that he had no role in the crisis. The system revealed him as the manager on duty at the time the resignations were tendered. That somehow made him the cause of the unpleasant effect. Raj took this all in a stride as the reality of corporate life and focused on what he could do, rather than what he had no control over.
Sachin, on the other hand, is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. His predecessor's mess had created havoc and he was expected to handle it on the day he joined as the boss of the local branch. Customers were screaming, subordinates were yelling and Sachin did not know what to do. So he picked up the phone and complained to the HR department and then the boss who had hired him for not warning him of the situation. Sachin felt betrayed by the organisation. He blamed the head hunter for tricking him to take up this job. He could not go back to his previous organisation; he had burned all his bridges there. He had moved to a new city with is family and there was no going back. This was not the promotion he imagined. He had been tricked. He was angry. He felt helpless. He felt like a victim.
Both Ravi and Sachin are victims of circumstances. Both have taken decisions to move out of their previous situation. Neither expects the current situation to be such a mess. But Ravi takes this without complaint. Sachin is full of complaints. Ravi, like Ram, does not add to the crisis. Sachin, like the Pandavas, simply adds fuel to the crisis. Not surprisingly, everyone wants Ram as their manager, not Sachin.
[ The author is the Chief Belief Officer of the Future Group who can
be reached at devdutt@devdutt.com]
It is curious that the forest-exile is central to both Ramayana and Mahabharata, the twin epics of India. In the Ramayana, Ram goes into exile so that his father can keep his word to his step-mother, Kaikeyi. In the Mahabharata, the Pandavas go into exile following an agreement with their cousins, the Kauravas, when they lose their kingdom in a gambling match.
The reaction to the exile in both epics is startlingly different. In the Ramayana, Ram keeps saying that neither Kaikeyi nor his father should be blamed and the moment should be accepted as an act of destiny. In the Mahabharata, Pandavas keep blaming Kauravas and their uncle, Shakuni, for fraud and trickery. Ram looks calm and peaceful, even though he is clearly the victim of palace politics. The Pandavas on the other hand are angry and furious, never once taking responsibility for the fact that they gambled away their kingdom.
The loss of kingdom and exile into the forest is a metaphor for misfortune. But the approach to it distinguishes Ram from the Pandavas and makes the former a king worthy of worship.
Managers can be classified into Ramayana Managers and Mahabharata Managers. The former take responsibility for a situation, even if they are not to blame. The latter do not take responsibility for a situation, even if they are to blame. Ramayana managers typically internalise the problem. Focus on what they can do to manage and resolve the crisis. Mahabharata managers typically externalise the problem and spend a lot of time and energy finding people and processes to blame.
Two days after Raj moved to his new office, his entire team resigned. He was not the cause. A series of events had taken place before he joined the team and he was witnessing the exit process. Since Raj represented the senior management, on the second day of the job, he had to take exit interviews and hear all the outpourings of negative emotions of those leaving. He had to hear all the terrible things the organisation had done and how the person before him had betrayed their trust.
All Raj could do is go through the process, endure the irritation of the exiting team. He did it stoically, never getting angry for the awkward position he had been put in by the management, never complaining to his superiors, never regretting his decision to take up this new assignment, never feeling he had been duped into an unpleasant situation that was not of his own creation. In the large organisation, few knew that he had no role in the crisis. The system revealed him as the manager on duty at the time the resignations were tendered. That somehow made him the cause of the unpleasant effect. Raj took this all in a stride as the reality of corporate life and focused on what he could do, rather than what he had no control over.
Sachin, on the other hand, is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. His predecessor's mess had created havoc and he was expected to handle it on the day he joined as the boss of the local branch. Customers were screaming, subordinates were yelling and Sachin did not know what to do. So he picked up the phone and complained to the HR department and then the boss who had hired him for not warning him of the situation. Sachin felt betrayed by the organisation. He blamed the head hunter for tricking him to take up this job. He could not go back to his previous organisation; he had burned all his bridges there. He had moved to a new city with is family and there was no going back. This was not the promotion he imagined. He had been tricked. He was angry. He felt helpless. He felt like a victim.
Both Ravi and Sachin are victims of circumstances. Both have taken decisions to move out of their previous situation. Neither expects the current situation to be such a mess. But Ravi takes this without complaint. Sachin is full of complaints. Ravi, like Ram, does not add to the crisis. Sachin, like the Pandavas, simply adds fuel to the crisis. Not surprisingly, everyone wants Ram as their manager, not Sachin.
[ The author is the Chief Belief Officer of the Future Group who can
be reached at devdutt@devdutt.com]
PARADISE IS NOT HEAVEN
PARADISE IS A PLACE OF LUXURY, BUT IT DOESN'T GUARANTEE PEACE
In Hindu mythology, there are two types of heaven: there is heaven (spelt without capitals) and there is Heaven (spelt with capitals). The smaller heaven is also called paradise, to distinguish it from Heaven. Of course, this complex denotation emerges because of the limitations of the English language that was designed to serve the needs of the Bible that has only one Heaven. Belief in one life that underlies Christianity results in faith in one heaven. Belief in many lives that underlies Hinduism results in faith in many heavens, and Heavens.
Paradise or heaven is called Swarga and is ruled by Indra, king of the gods. He is surrounded by wealth and beauty and fame, but he is always insecure, fearful that another king or sage or demon may topple him anytime. Then there is Heaven, the Vaikuntha of Vishnu or Kailasa of Shiva, where there is no threat, only eternal peace. But here time stills, there is no ebb and flow of things; no hunger and hence, no quest for satisfaction; no thirst, hence no satiety. In the case of paradise, there is prosperity but no peace, while in Heaven, there is peace but complete indifference to prosperity.
Thirty years ago, David and Jacob, after completing their engineering degree, took up two very different jobs for two different reasons. David joined a private engineering firm that offered him no job guarantees but a lot of opportunities. Jacob joined a public sector enterprise that offered him job security but not many opportunities.
David spent years moving from city to city, from job to job, changing roles and domains, fighting office politics, struggling for appreciation, making his presence felt, battling recession, and is today Vice-President of a Dubai-based company with major investments in India. Needless to say he is doing very well financially. He has bought three houses in India. But he looks stressed. The job has very high demands. The shareholders want results and the auditors are strict about governance. Every day he has to take tough decisions and every day he has to answer tough questions from people upstream and downstream. Customers are difficult to acquire and retain. David spends all day thinking about the job and this has seriously affected his work-life balance. He envies Jacob.
Jacob joined a public sector company. He finds his job boring. Every thing is decided by policies. He knows he can do a better job, but the organisation makes no demands of him. He is expected to behave as per his grade. His remuneration is as per his grade. If he wants to attend a conference abroad, he has to take permission from superiors. He has hardly any autonomy. Even if the chair in his office is broken, the requisition has to go to some to senior who will sign a document in triplicate. His colleagues, he feels, have lost all enthusiasm. Even the fire in his belly has started to ebb. He does enough work so that he is not seen as a slacker. He reaches office on time and comes home on time. He gets to spend a lot of time with his family. For that he is grateful, especially when David calls him and tells him how he was unable to attend his daughter's graduation ceremony in a fancy Singapore University. He knows that boom time or bust, he job is secure, and if he is patient, eventually, he will get his promotion. He may not have bought three houses, but his company quarters are huge. He is content, but occasionally he does feel his life lacks the thrill of David's private sector job.
David is in paradise; Jacob in Heaven. David enjoys growth; Jacob enjoys stability. David is blessed with prosperity; Jacob has peace. We yearn for both, but often one comes at the price of the other.
[ The author is the Chief Belief Officer of the Future Group. He
may be reached at devdutt@devdutt.com]
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In Hindu mythology, there are two types of heaven: there is heaven (spelt without capitals) and there is Heaven (spelt with capitals). The smaller heaven is also called paradise, to distinguish it from Heaven. Of course, this complex denotation emerges because of the limitations of the English language that was designed to serve the needs of the Bible that has only one Heaven. Belief in one life that underlies Christianity results in faith in one heaven. Belief in many lives that underlies Hinduism results in faith in many heavens, and Heavens.
Paradise or heaven is called Swarga and is ruled by Indra, king of the gods. He is surrounded by wealth and beauty and fame, but he is always insecure, fearful that another king or sage or demon may topple him anytime. Then there is Heaven, the Vaikuntha of Vishnu or Kailasa of Shiva, where there is no threat, only eternal peace. But here time stills, there is no ebb and flow of things; no hunger and hence, no quest for satisfaction; no thirst, hence no satiety. In the case of paradise, there is prosperity but no peace, while in Heaven, there is peace but complete indifference to prosperity.
Thirty years ago, David and Jacob, after completing their engineering degree, took up two very different jobs for two different reasons. David joined a private engineering firm that offered him no job guarantees but a lot of opportunities. Jacob joined a public sector enterprise that offered him job security but not many opportunities.
David spent years moving from city to city, from job to job, changing roles and domains, fighting office politics, struggling for appreciation, making his presence felt, battling recession, and is today Vice-President of a Dubai-based company with major investments in India. Needless to say he is doing very well financially. He has bought three houses in India. But he looks stressed. The job has very high demands. The shareholders want results and the auditors are strict about governance. Every day he has to take tough decisions and every day he has to answer tough questions from people upstream and downstream. Customers are difficult to acquire and retain. David spends all day thinking about the job and this has seriously affected his work-life balance. He envies Jacob.
Jacob joined a public sector company. He finds his job boring. Every thing is decided by policies. He knows he can do a better job, but the organisation makes no demands of him. He is expected to behave as per his grade. His remuneration is as per his grade. If he wants to attend a conference abroad, he has to take permission from superiors. He has hardly any autonomy. Even if the chair in his office is broken, the requisition has to go to some to senior who will sign a document in triplicate. His colleagues, he feels, have lost all enthusiasm. Even the fire in his belly has started to ebb. He does enough work so that he is not seen as a slacker. He reaches office on time and comes home on time. He gets to spend a lot of time with his family. For that he is grateful, especially when David calls him and tells him how he was unable to attend his daughter's graduation ceremony in a fancy Singapore University. He knows that boom time or bust, he job is secure, and if he is patient, eventually, he will get his promotion. He may not have bought three houses, but his company quarters are huge. He is content, but occasionally he does feel his life lacks the thrill of David's private sector job.
David is in paradise; Jacob in Heaven. David enjoys growth; Jacob enjoys stability. David is blessed with prosperity; Jacob has peace. We yearn for both, but often one comes at the price of the other.
[ The author is the Chief Belief Officer of the Future Group. He
may be reached at devdutt@devdutt.com]
Send Gifts
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