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And the Salesman Sails…

“Karmanyewadhikarasthe maa faleshu kadachana..

Maa karmafalaheturbhuhu ma ate
sangotstwakarmani”
Your freedom is only in the field of action, and not in the field of bringing about
the fruits of action. Never take yourself as the cause of bringing about a karma-
phala (situation), and never resort to a life of inaction

- Sreemad Bhagwat Geeta

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The alarm clock started to ring a bit louder than my comfort level. I had no
other option but to wake up from a deep and pleasant slumber. I was lavishing
in a romantic dream wherein I was about to reach out to a beautiful lady and
kiss her. Our lips were merely 2 inches apart when I could hear the ringing in a
distance. I never imagined that 2 inches could be so far away.

I got up groggily and walked up to the window on the far side of the bed and
drew the curtains aside. Bright fresh sunshine fell on my face making me shield
my eyes from the sun-rays on reflex. The room where I was put up, No. 101, of
‘Cosy Home’, a small time business hotel in East of Kailash, New Delhi. The
room was reasonably big with a large double bed in the centre, a small TV to
the right and a table-chair just beside the bed. In one of the drawers was the
Holy Bible, not the Bhagwat Geeta.

The window had curtains of a never before seen color. It was a delightful shade
of grayish cream. The shade one sees when a rich cream colored curtain is not
washed for 3 months in the least. Come to think of it, I am sure there is
potential such rare colors in the market. One could always name it, “Dusty
Pink”.

Anyway, enough about curtains. I am sure you can guess the kind of room and
the kind of hotel I was staying in. I walked away from the window and went to
the table where a phone was kept and dialed in room service. The equally
groggy voice at the other end of the line said, “Hello..Room Service….speaking!”.
I asked Mr. Room Service for a cup of tea and an omelette made of 2 eggs.
Before I could continue any further, he quickly said “thank u” and hung up
with a loudness that I found irritating. I decided not to think too much about it
and went to freshen up. I spare my readers any description of the wash room,
given my strong intent to have them carry on reading.

I wore my best pair of trousers (a Black, double pleated Formal Trousers from
Park Avenue] and a crisp white full sleeve shirt (Silkina I think was the brand
name] that I had purchased the night before at the airport. After having my
breakfast and tea, I proceeded to attend the first day of my working life.

As I stepped out of my room, I was greeted by Manojit da, whom I had met the
previous night while checking in. He was older than me and had a clean pate
(he had recently lost his father and was still in mourning]. Like me, he too had
come to Delhi to attend the first day of his work. Both of us had joined a large
MNC with confectionaries and chocolates as its business operations. The
company was planning to aggressively go National and was therefore building a
competent sales team across all four the regions of the country. Manojit and I
were part of the East Team recruits. I joined the company as a Management
Trainee and Manojit da as an Area Sales Manager. We smiled, acknowledging
each other. After about 2 minutes, Meena, a sweet young girl came out of the
3rd room and greeted the two of us with a large smile. She too had joined the
company as a management trainee. She was from a Jain from Gujarat. I
chanced upon this information, when once during lunch I saw her ordering for
any food that does not grow below the ground. The oddity if the request was
enough to raise curiosity in me. Meena explained her religion prohibits her to
eat any food grown below the ground. Needless to say, she was a vegetarian. As
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for me, I am a complete non-vegetarian, bordering on the brink of being an
‘Omni-terean’ (meaning I could eat everything including bull shit). I am from
Bengal, like my senior colleague, Mr. Manojit Ghosh.

Having just completed an MBA course from Leeds University, I was brimming
with confidence, ready to take on any and every challenge that the world was
about to throw on my face. Before continuing any further, I think it is important
to tell you more of myself, as I feel it will allow you to comprehend this story
better. I belong to a typical middle class Bengali family. By the word ‘typical’ I
mean the quintessential Bengali family that you would have heard or read of.
My father is a service man in a reputed MNC, having faced many struggles in
life before achieving fame and money. My mother is a typical Bengali housewife,
literate (MA) and had quashed all her dreams and aspirations so that she could
tend to her husband and her two sons. One son is myself, the other, my
younger brother, Raj. At this point in time, Raj was busy preparing for his
engineering exams. We are separated by only 3 years. After having completed
my graduation in Life Science, I went on to study for MBA in Leeds and now, I
am here, getting into the Car that was to take me to my workplace.

Delhi’s pretty hot in June and the office where I was to report was located in a
small town off Gurgaon, a satellite township that was under development then.
Temperature must have been around 44 degrees and humidity very close to
20%. This meant that if you expose your chest to the mid day wind, you would
probably end up having ‘heat stroke’. The ambassador car was airconditioned,
but 6 people huddled up inside did little for air circulation. Therefore, I was
pretty much comfortably heated up.

The car took us to the manufacturing unit of the MNC, names P. The corporate
office was located in the far left of the premises, away from the production
facility, where there was a perpetual state of chaos and cacophony of different
noises. On entering the office, I was greeted by our Human Resources Head, Mr.
Shukla. He was a tall, slim, amiable gentleman. He smiled at me and the rest of
the team and started to introduce us to the rest of the people who made up the
corporate office. I was particularly awed with our Director Sales and Marketing,
Mr. Ashok. He was a person with a clear, resonant voice and a complete no-
nonsense approach to anything and everything that he went about doing. It was
he who one day, having seen my untidy workplace had commented, “Is your
drawing room as untidy as this? If not, then why should the drawing room of
your workplace be untidy? Does the same attitude not apply to both”? Ashok
introduced the organization briefly, showed all of its products including the
flagship candy brand, kandi. After the introductions were completed, we were
each handed out a paper detailing our induction into the organization. It was a
detailed induction program, covering the domains of sales, CFA (carrying and
forwarding agents] management, marketing, brand, finance, administration,
legal and lastly, IT. Each of us had been given an assignment within each of
these spheres or domains.

My first assignment was to understand how a distributor’s salesman worked. A

distributor is a business entity that buys products from the companies and
sells them to the trade. The distributor could either buy the product directly
from the company or from the company’s designated CFA. The distributor made
money from the profit margin (the difference between the distributor’s buying
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price and the selling price). In order to understand this seemingly easy element
in the distribution model, I was supposed to report to the Eastern Zonal office,
based out of Kolkata. Therefore, I came back from the office, packed my bags
and set out for Kolkata, a town where I was born. One could not fathom the
level of excitement that I was going through. To come back to Kolkata, meet my
college friends (I had passed out of Asutosh college) and brag about my MBA
degree and my new job. I was also asked to report to a Mr. Chakraborty, the
Regional Sales Manager of the East Branch office. He was a long timer in the
organization and was apparently an ‘old war horse’ when it came to distribution
management.

I had been given a second class AC ticket on the Rajdhani Express. When I
arrived at the station in the morning, I was surprised to see that the station was
brimming with life even at 5AM. It’s almost as if, the station and the people who
dwelt within, never slept a wink. Several newspaper vendors were busy sorting
their papers for distribution, the beggars were busy thinking of their lines and
their strategy, the tea stall was surrounded by half asleep passengers and
coolies were rushing here and there along with their passengers, searching for
the train or the platform or even the compartment. The energy levels woke me
out of my stupor and slumber. I too had my cup of tea and then proceeded to
board the train. The train journey was quite uneventful and I found myself
outside the Howrah station (the main Station in Kolkata) very soon. I went
straight to the office from there. The office was situated on Circular road, one of
the main roads connecting North Kolkata and South Kolkata. It was an
imposing tall building. The office was situated on the 3rd floor towards the back
end of the building.

As I entered the office, the first thing that struck me was the size of the office. It
looked tiny with close to 15 people moving around, papers strewn everywhere, a
few desks with desktop computers. I was asked to sit on a plastic chair whilst
the gateman went to a small cabin on my left in order to announce my
presence. After 5 minutes, I was ushered into Mr. Chakraborty’s cabin. As soon
as I entered, I found a plump, short person bending down as if to duck
something, followed closely by a shoe that just barely missed my face. I too
immediately ducked. A deep pleasant voice immediately said, “Sorry Beta. That
shoe was not meant for you. It was meant for this useless fellow here. Welcome
to East Branch office”.

I got up and saw a tall, well built person who had come forward to help me get
up. He was around 45 years of age, sharp eyes behind spectacles, a bushy
moustache and an extremely pleasant face. As soon as I saw him, I bent down
to touch his feet. Now this is not an action that us typical of me. But Mr.
Chakraborty commanded such a powerful presence that one can’t help but feel
awed. In the course of the next few years, I would come to know this person
very closely and he would shape and mould me and my personality completely.

Mr. Chittoronjon Chakraborty, fondly known as “Dada”, introduced me to every

member of the East Branch. I was first introduced to the “useless fellow” at
whom the shoe missile was launched. His name is A.Chatterjee and he was the
Area Sales Manager, Kolkata. Then I was introduced to an extremely pretty
nepali lady, Aruna, who was dada’s personal secretary, followed by another
pretty lady called Priya. Priya used to manage the entire MIS of the East
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Branch. Then came, SMitra followed by Mr. B Das (area sales executive North
East), Satyajit (area sales manager, Orissa) and Mr. Monojit (area sales
manager, West Bengal). Monojit da had arrived a day earlier and was taking
over from A Chatterjee, who was moving on to managing the export markets of
Bangladesh and Srilanka. I then met Atanu da (sales officer, Bengal wholesale)
followed by Mr. Subhashish, Ashish etc.

One interesting point that struck me was that even though there was a dearth
of space and the office was crampy, everyone was happy and was always
smiling. I guess this is what leadership and teamwork all about. I got my first
lesson in team work and the first day, entrenched within me a belief that team
work is what creates the difference between success and failure. One might
have got the entire strategy well thought out but without efficient
implementation of the strategy on-ground, everything is useless. And efficient
implementation is achieved by motivated team members, who are willing to
sacrifice many for the cause they believe in. The second lesson I learnt that day
was that a successful team is personified in the Leader and vice versa. All the
good qualities of the leader seem to magically imbibe within the team members
and the team acts, behaves works and thinks like the Leader it follows.

Aruna asked me, “Where will you be staying in Kolkata”? I answered that I have
taken a two-bedroom flat on rent in Salt Lake, on the outskirts of Kolkata. I was
then given a form wherein I had to fill in all the details – age, blood group,
house address, permanent address, contact details etc. I did not have a mobile
phone then. Cell phones were very expensive and people used pagers to
communicate. I picked up a Nokia cell phone for Rs 10,000/- along with a
BSNL postpaid number during lunch time and gave the details to Aruna along
with my other documents. Then a person from Centurion Bank came to open
my salaried account. I was thrilled, my first salary savings bank account at the
age of 23. Having completed the day successfully, I proceeded to leave for my
home. I had some shopping to do, groceries, biscuits, soap, washing powder etc.
Dada asked me wether I needed any monetary help to which I declined
gracefully as I had some 3-4 thousand rupees on me for these purchases. But
Dada nonetheless, called his home and asked that my food (dinner) be supplied
to the office at 6Pm sharp daily till the time I got a maid who would do the
washing, cleaning and basic cooking. I was feeling a bit awkward for all these
help but dada was adamant. He then told me that he knew what I will be going
through, having been in similar situations long back. Anyways, I proceeded to
take a taxi from Minto park (where the office was situated) to Salt Lake. I
reached the gates of the co-operative society where I had taken up the rented
accommodation at around 8Pm with 2 bags full of groceries and other
household items. I also had 2 big suitcases with me and a small laptop bag
where all my documents were kept. Somehow I managed to drag all this to my
house, opened the doors and then entered into an empty, dusty and smelly
apartment.

I did not do any cleaning that night. I just washed my clothes and after having
hung those in the verandah for drying overnight, I proceeded to un-pack the
rest of the stuff. After unpacking, I made an omelet for myself and had ‘bread-
omelet’ sandwich for dinner. I called up my parents in UK and informed them of
my first day in Kolkata and then proceeded to take a novel (I love to read and
was carrying all sorts of reading material from study books to fiction novels by
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Harold Robbins, Agatha Christie and Stephen King) and lie down in my bed.
The house had two bedrooms, drawing-dining and a small kitchen. There was a
gas stove complete with a cylinder. My mother’s close friend (babu uncle), who
was staying in the same society, had arranged for this along with a plastic
table, 2 plastic chairs and a small single bed with mattresses. I fell asleep with
the book lying open on my chest and the lights still on.

The nest morning, after having finished my breakfast (that comprised of one
cup of tea and 1 boiled egg), I caught a bus going towards minto park and
headed straight for the office. On reaching office, I was informed by aruna that
dada has asked me to meet him straightaway without any further delay. It was
unusual (as I was informed later) for Dada to be in office before 930AM. But
that day, for some reason, he was. Anyways, I met him and was immediately
asked to travel to Durgapur the next morning to start my distributor salesman
induction training program under the supervision of an able sales officer (SO),
Shanti Bose. I had to immediately arrange for an advance cash reserve as
staying in Kolkata for a month on Rs 2000/- was one thing and traveling to
Durgapur and staying there for 3 weeks was something else. However, on
mentioning this to dada, he immediately signed a voucher for Rs 8000/- and I
was given cash to that much amount by the evening. Before leaving the office, I
asked Dada as to what I am expected to be doing there. He looked at me and
simply said, “why beta? You are expected to go out and sell. That’s all.
Anyways, Shanti, will explain everything to you once you reach there.”

I went back home, packed up for 3 weeks and left for Howrah station early the
next morning at 5AM. I was in a bus. When I got down from the bus at the
station, I realized that there was a cut in my trousers, just above the zipper. To
my horror, I realized that the bundle of cash (Rs 8000/- precisely) that was kept
hidden in a pouch just beside the zipper on the innerside of my trouser, was
missing. Someone, had realized seeing the bulge and had neatly cut through
the trouser with a blade and seized all my imprest money. I was nearly in tears
and did not know what to do. I called Dada immediately. On hearing this, at
first he gave a sound firing over the phone, calling me many names like
“banchod”, “Shaala” etc etc. But when he realized that I was really really
tensed, he immediately asked me to proceed to the police thana near the
station, lodge an FIR (first information report) and then proceed on to Durgapur
with whatever money I had. He would arrange to send me Rs 8000/- more
immediately by the time I reached there. But, I had lost company’s money so
this amount would be recovered in EMI of Rs 1000/- from my salary for the
next 8 months. I had nothing to do but to agree. So off I went, searching for the
police station.

On reaching the police thana, I found a constable sleeping. I nudged him awake
and asked him to take me to the officer-in-charge. He looked me up and down
and with a frown ushered me inside the thana. This was my first visit to a
police station. The officer-in-charge (Sub-inspector Haldar) looked like a plesant
fellow and listened to be attentively after asking me to sit down. On hearing my
story, he offered me a cup of tea and 2 biscuits and said “you boys should know
better than to carry so much money in one place. You should spread the money
evenly amongst your self and your belongings so that at any point in time, only
a little amount is at risk.”. “Anyways, I will try and see what can be done. The
thief could have crossed the howrah bridge by now. So he will no longer be
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under this thana’s jurisdiction. But I will try my best”. Saying this, he wrote
down his report, made me sign the same and handed over a copy of the report
to me. I had to courier this copy to the East zonal office right away. I was feeling
extremely low and very shameful. I had been extremely careless and over
confident. The punishment had been severe and I had learnt my lesson the
hard way, first time. I boarded the train for Durgapur a little late during the day
and reached Durgapur at 9PM.

I had never been to Durgapur before and was pretty excited at the prospect of
visiting a new town, learning so many things, meeting new people etc. etc. The
train journey was quite uneventful. The only highlight of the journey was that I
got an opportunity to eat fish cutlet and hot piping tomato soup. The train
delayed and by the time I reached Durgapur, it was 915PM. The station was
nearly deserted and the quietness hit you instantly. One could hear the sound
of crickets and occasionally, frogs croaking. I got a bit apprehensive – unknown
township, very few people moving about. Having recently experienced theft, I
feared a similar occurance here as well. Therefore, I went straight to the station
masters’ office and asked him “Sir, could you tell me how to get to Hotel
Mishra’s near Benachitty?” The station master was polite enough. He told me to
take an auto and mention the hotel’s name (the hotel was apparently quite
famous in Durgapur) and I would be taken to the hotel. He even mentioned the
approximate fare “Look, normally the fare would be around Rs 25-30, but at
this hour an extra premium is normally charged so they might charge another
Rs 10-15 extra. Having thanked the station master, I proceeded out of the
station and could see only one auto standing far away.

I dragged my luggage (one heavy travel bag) and asked the auto-wallah if he
knew where Hotel Mishra was and wether he could take me there. The auto
wallah looked at me with a mixed expression of discontent (as if saying in his
mind, “saala…why the hell did this chap have to disturb me at this time of the
night”) and said “sure I know where the hotel was. It’s a famous hotel with a
well stocked bar. I will take you there, but you know…at this time, I will not get
a return passenger. I was getting ready to close shop for the day. So it will cost
you extra.” “How much extra?” I asked him. “Double fare sir…!.” Since I did not
wish to argue at this hour, I agreed to pay the man double fare and we were on
our way to Hotel Mishra. The journey from the station to the hotel was
something I would never forget. It was pitch dark, the street lights off in many
places and a to the right of the road (it was more of a lane than a road) dense
foliage existed that started from the station and continued upto the hotel. Light
from the other side of the foliage seemed to give a strange eerie illumination to
the trees and shrubs, making it look like a scene straight out of some horror
flick. Man! Was I scared.

We reached the hotel at around 1030 PM and after having paid the autowallah
his fare, I went straight to the reception and found only a guard half asleep. I
pushed the bell a few times and the guard groggily got up saying “no one is
awake saab. I will help you check in”. Having said this, he promptly handed me
a pen and a register where I had to enter all my personal details and reason for
visit etc. Having checked me in, he then proceeded to take my luggage and
myself to the room that was allocated for me. It was an AC room with a single
bed, a table&chair and an attached bathroom that had a geyser and an Indian
style loo. All this for Rs 250/- per night seemed pretty reasonable to me. “we
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serve breakfast between 630AM to 10AM”, he informed me sternly, as if I had
just checked in to the local residential college…what was left unsaid but
understood was “if you are late, then man..u have had it. No beakfast.” I
freshened up and immediately went off to sleep, half hungry (as I had not had a
full dinner).

I woke up the next day to the sound of the door bell. When I opened the door, I
found a waiter standing with a bath towel and a small soap. He silently walked
past me into the bathroom, kept the stuff and silently walked out. When he
neared the staircase, he just simply turned around and asked “what will you
have for breakfast?” I told him (later on, I found his name to be rattan, a
localite) that I would have tea, bread and omellete made out of two eggs. He
noted all that and promptly rushed down the stairs. By now, I realized that the
city had come alive. There seemed to a lot of buzz around. I could hear one of
the guests shouting “hey rattan. The geyser is not working. I need hot water.
Get the same immediately.” Or someone else saying “but you don’t understand.
I did not call you last night because I came in late from work.” I later on found
out that he did not come in late from work but was so drunk that he could
hardly find his own room let alone talk to anyone.