I Bought The Monk's Ferrari (9 page)

O
nce I was invited for a formal dinner party at Taj Lands End, a posh five star hotel in the suburbs of Mumbai. It was hosted by the CEO of the bank I work for, attended by almost all the employees along with their spouses.

I told Dharini about the dinner. Her first reaction was, 'What should I wear?' A million dollar question to which, I never had a suitable answer. Women would invariably wear what they felt like, but would continue poking  their spouses till they
get the answers that they want
.

The heights of great men reached and kept,
Were not obtained by sudden flight,
But they, while their companions slept
Were toiling upward in the night.

H
ENRY
W
ADSWORTH
L
ONGFELLOW

'Ravi it's your office party. I have to look good.' I knew where the the conversation was headed. She wanted a new outfit for the party. I grimaced at the thought of another expense, but did not want to get into an argument. They are, all married men would agree, best avoided in such situations. My silence was assumed as consent and a new outfit did arrive. I was in half a mind to ask the CEO to pay for it. On that Saturday evening, we went to the party, hand-in-hand, very much like a 'made for each other' couple. The party was just about warming up. People were still arriving. This was an annual reunion of sorts where everyone came with their families.

As we walked in, we met Suneel. A young man in his mid-thirties, he had been with the bank for over seven years. His wife was with him. I introduced Dharini to them and casually asked, 'All's well?'

'Nahin
yaar.
Bahut phati hui hai
(No. All is not well).'

'Why, what happened?'

'Arre, kuch nahin
yaar (Nothing much). Too much of work. I don't get to spend time with my family,' he looked at his wife and with his left arm around her waist, hugged her fondly. It looked like honeymoon had not yet ended.

'He doesn't come home before nine,' she complained. 'Even at home he is constantly on his Blackberry.' I tried to smile. The discussion then drifted to the Blackberry.

The last seven years Suneel had been with the bank, he had spent at the same grade. No move, no promotion. Partly, because he did not want to move and mostly, because no one wanted him in his or her team.

'Why?' Picking up from where we left.

'Work just doesn't seem to get over. These conference calls and meetings, they drain you out. And, you know Sangeeta. She's a perfectionist. Never happy with anything—pain in the neck she is. Makes us re-do everything.' Sangeeta was his boss. I just nodded at his remarks.

'If I had a business of my own, and worked so hard, I would have become a millionaire by now.'

'Sure. I am sure you would. You slog all day long. Had you slogged for yourself and not the organisation, you would have made enough money by now,' I said. All through, wondering what the consequences would have been like if had he been working for himself—maybe bankrupt by now.

I moved on. At a large party like this, it was important to move around so that you get noticed by all. I met another colleague of mine, who had joined the organisation recently. He used to work in a local bank where he had been working for the last twelve years before joining this bank.

'Hello ... Rohit.' I stopped as he came in front. 'How are you? Hope all's well?' I asked again.

'Ya ... but ...' he paused.

'But what?' The apprehension in his tone made me curious.

'It's extremely hectic here. No time for anything else.'

'But, what else do you want to do?'

'Look Ravi, I don't have enough time for my family. When I get back home, my son is already asleep. I hardly get to spend quality time with him. Life sucks, man.'

Rohit had joined the organisation only two weeks ago and he was already complaining. He was just about learning the tricks of the trade and had not yet got into his groove. What would happen if he got into his full-fledged workload and the related stress? I must confess, I was a bit taken aback by his response. Rohit had come alone and we were talking of businesses. Dharini was getting bored and that meant trouble. Sensing it, I moved on.

Ahead of me, as my eyes were panning the room, I saw a man—tall, middle-aged and slightly steely looking with a stylish golf cap on his head, and an exquisite red and blue silky scarf tied trendily around his collar. He was walking around the hall with the latest Nokia communicator in his hand, greeting all the seniors of the bank. I saw him and walked up to him. I tapped him on the shoulder.

'Have we met before?' I asked as he turned around.

'
Naah
... I don't think so ... have we?'

'You look like someone I know,' I shook my head.

'Had you been a few kilograms lighter I would have recognised you. Now 1 can't,' he started laughing, so did I.

We had worked together when I was in Delhi and back there, we would meet almost every day. Our laughter caught notice of several others and soon, we were surrounded by a group of another six.

'How are you, Raj?' I asked him as the laughter subsided. I was seeing him after six months.

This gentleman, Raj Khosla was a leading service provider for the bank I worked in Delhi. He had a small firm that ran various accounting errands for all and sundry, before he started off with the bank in 1990. He would manage some small-time audits and other minor jobs for the bank. He had a small dingy office in Khan Market in Delhi. With time, he began to source a few two-wheeler loans and other cash loans for the bank. In the last decade, he had turned that dingy office manned by a few employees into a mammoth organisation which now boasts of over four thousand employees, providing Citibank with almost all the services, that he is permitted by the banking regulations. Had the bank regulators been benevolent to foreign banks in India, he would have done a lot more. The bank's reliance on him had reached to such a level that over ninety percent of the business in North India was originated by him. The business he brought for the bank was probably higher than most of the banks in the private sector. This was a commendable achievement, indeed.

Someone from the crowd, tapped his shoulder and said,
'Aur
Khosla, what's happening?'

'
Bas lagey
hue hain.
Business is rocking.'

I had met three men at the dinner party—Suneel, Rohit and Raj Khosla. And, see the difference! Two of them turned around and gave me reasons why 'life sucks' and here was a man who, for the same question oozed out so much vivacity, that there was nothing more to ask for. However, it was not the statement alone, but the attitude, the approach, the air of confidence, and the positive move, that gave a much better feeling.

Let me tell you more about Khosla. Raj Khosla, to put it loosely, is a DSA (Direct Sales Agent) for the bank for personal loans, credit cards, home loans and almost anything and everything under the sun—and he single-handedly calls the shots. He also does some outsourced work for the bank. It is a very stressful job. Apart from his own people, he has to deal with the business heads from the bank and their representatives who work with him, and of course, his own four thousand employees. He runs his office under the brand name of Shelters.

His day at work begins at 11.00 a.m. Once he enters his office he normally stays there unless something shakes him out. He does not even step out to the bank to meet the business heads. 'That's not my job,' he says modestly.

Throughout the day he interacts with the sales managers from the bank who help him manage his channels and his employees helping him extract productive work from all of them.

Every evening, without fail, when other offices close and bankers head home, he takes all his unit managers up on the terrace of his imposing office. There, they discuss short-term and long-term tactics and ways to combat competition, to recruit people from outside, to improve upon the management and derive the maximum from the bank know-how. This goes on till ... well, there is no limit. At times, he shares a drink with them on the terrace. What he does through this is figuring out for himself, who are the ones in his team ready for the next level opportunity and those who need to be got rid of.

These terrace discussions and his many other interactions has thrown up many a star. He has picked up people from nowhere, people who have been doing nondescript jobs, and backed them with larger roles. You will hardly hear of anything close to this in a small (if you can call it small) organisation. This would not have been possible had he not made the time and effort in working with his team.

Once he is done with the discussion on the terrace, he heads either to the Golf Club, or back to his office to meet with various people from the bank who manage his relationship— well, without him the bank would do no business, so they have to ensure that they assist him in managing it well. By the time he returns home it is about eleven at night. This happens day after day, month after month, year after year. ... And, all seven days a week.

He claims that he is not a managing director but a chief motivational officer-a CMO. The only job he does the entire day, as he says modestly, is to ensure that none of his four thousand people leave. If anyone does, he takes it as a challenge and works to hold back the employee. And to give him credit, the attrition levels in his organisation, which many call a 'mom and pop show' is much lower than any large organisation with four thousand employees. Such is the commitment and dedication of this man. His hard work, and 'walk the talk' with his team has encouraged ordinary people in his team to dream big. Raj has, within Shelters, built a culture which he personally oversees, which motivates his four thousand employees to rise and achieve those dreams. People from ordinary backgrounds deliver extraordinary results with him, and he works throughout the day with them, making this happen. This takes its toll, leaving him with no free time for himself.

Till date, I have never heard him complain about trying to strike a balance between work and his family. I have never heard him say 'life sucks'. He has never complained of not being able to go back to his son every night. Though he too, has family responsibilities and aging parents to take care off, he has never let that affect his work. Does this mean that he has no love for his family? Of course, not. He is as much concerned about family, as he is about work. It is just that he is equally passionate about both.

Now, let me pose a different question to you. Assume for a minute that you have the Ferrari. You struggled in life, made it big and finally have acquired that dream machine. That is the only car you have. Would you stop driving the Ferrari on weekends because you need to give it some 'work-life' balance? The answer would be an absolute NO. If the answer is 'no' for the Ferrari, why should you be so bothered about 'work-life' balance for yourself?

I spoke of Khosla to prove one crucial point—if he can work fourteen to sixteen hours a day in his fifties, I am sure, the youngsters of today can do it as well. I have a piece of advice for those who have just made their career beginnings. If you want the Ferrari, and want it early in your career, you will have to take one of the three routes ... hard work, hard work and more hard work.

The other day, I had gone to IIM-Bangalore for a pre-placement talk—a presentation which every company makes to its prospective employees, telling them what it has to offer. I had gone to do a selling job—to sell my bank to the smart young MBAs. I could not curb my natural instinct and was showing off a bit during my talk. Digressing from the laid out presentation, I decided to demonstrate my audience-engaging skills. I looked at a young girl sitting quietly in the first row, I asked her, 'What would you look for in a company before you decide to join it?'

I caught her a bit off-guard and she was too baffled to answer. However, someone from the back did ... '"Work-life" balance!' My heart sank. I ignored the answer and asked for more parameters that would influence their choice of career... 'Five-day-week!' Oh, my gosh! What is wrong with them? I decided to quickly shelve my digressive path and return to the original canned presentation.