Swami’s Appraisal

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“Puttuswamy parked my car behind his red, C-class Mercedes. And at that moment, I got a nagging feeling that today is not going to be my day,” Swami told us at the café when we met a few days later. Swami narrated the happenings of the meeting day.

“You know how good my hunches are, right?” he continued. Jigneshbhai and I didn’t know, so we didn’t say anything. There was no past history of Swami having great hunches that came true. But why let the truth come in the way of a great story? We stayed silent and listened in.

Vihaan Raichand was the kind of person who you would think was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. When you saw his perfect-fitting suits, flashy ties, polished shoes, and stylish sunglasses, you would think this man was born into wealth. But nothing of that sort was true. The truth was what Swami had told us once. “He comes from working class origins. But now he is used to silver spoons. That’s his new normal and he can’t live without them anymore. In fact, he keeps looking for more of them and has some golden ones in sight too. I tell you he is an insatiable beast.” Swami’s opinion on Vihaan Raichand was clear.

Raichand had worked his way up the corporate ladder after an Ivy League education by a useful combination of ambition, luck, and a rare talent for unscrupulous guile. Hard work was a given but often with the wrong means and ends in mind. He was proud of his self-made success and the trophies that he had collected on the way to it. Raichand’s was a life that was filled with what would be indulgence for most people. But he was not satisfied with what he had and felt that this was the least he deserved.

“Come on, guys, when are you going to grow up? See where the world is going. We have to keep pace,” he often told his staff. “Stop chasing small change. Set your goals high.” Swami had an explanation for such ‘high goals big talk’ practised often by his boss. “Well, that is so that he can tell us we didn’t meet them. So, then, he can meet his.”

So, it wasn’t surprising that Swami had a hunch for things not going his way when he entered the office. With a boss like Raichand, it would be a surprise if he didn’t have nightmares before his appraisal. Especially because the appraisal was a precursor to his all-important leave application.

“So, how did your hunch come true?” Jigneshbhai asked Swami, sipping into his iced café mocha with whipped cream.

“Well, it started in a not-so-positive mood,” Swami winked. He initiated his story taking a bite into his double chocolate muffin.

“Hello, Swaminathan, how has your year been? Good, bad or plain silly like all your past years?” Raichand asked.

This is a question that Jigneshbhai calls a googly. That’s because it looks simple but is deceptive. Whichever way you answer it, you are in trouble. You say it was good and that will be challenged. You say it was bad and that will be accepted. Swami was experienced, so he recognised the googly when it landed.

“Sir, it was good but not that good. It was average,” Swami answered. He didn’t leave his crease and tentatively pushed the ball back.

“I don’t like average, Swaminathan.” Raichand now got more aggressive. “You either be the best at your job or you have no business working for me,” he added. This made Swami believe that his hunch was right. He felt like a batsman who realises in the first few minutes at the crease that the pitch is doing things for the bowler. But a flash of sycophantic brilliance got him out of the catch-22 rut and into a scoring spree.

“Sir, even I don’t like average. But with someone as brilliant as you as the boss, everyone else is average,” Swami said.

Now, many bosses will see through this kind of obsequious behaviour. But Raichand was one of a kind. He loved his own voice, his own persona, anything good that anyone said about him. In short, he was his own favourite.

“I love the kind of alignment we have, Swami,” Raichand flashed a wide grin. He had slipped into Swami from Swaminathan. That was a good sign for the appraisal and the leave application. “We have always been on the same page, excellent,” he added.

“Yes, Sir,” Swami said with a wide grin, exhaling in relief the breath he had held tight for long.

“Your year has been good, let me tell you, as has been mine. Stay with me and we will have many good years together,” Raichand said. Swami felt uneasy with the surge of esprit de corps developing between him and this self-obsessed jerk. He shifted in his seat but maintained the nauseating smile and servile attitude on his face. This demeanour was conducive for Raichand to continue.

“This year I have set in motion the foundation for our growth. Now our business unit is as good as the best in the world. Our strategy and execution are both in place. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Sir,” Swami said. Saying this was a good strategy backed with excellent execution that Swami had adopted for the appraisal. Someone great said that simplicity is the ultimate sophistication. Swami followed that to a T. A “Yes Sir” said with body language displaying fawning adoration is as simple as it gets.

“Of course, without your good work, all the accolades that we got wouldn’t have been possible,” Raichand said. And by we, he meant I. “But we can’t be complacent. We have to keep working hard this year,” he added. And this time by we, he meant you. Swami read between the lines.

“Indeed, Sir,” Swami said.

“Wonderful,” Raichand said. “You have been doing a great job. Keep at it,” he added. “Have you added your self-appraisal to the system?”

“Yes, Sir,” Swami confirmed.

“Fantastic, I will approve it,” Raichand said and congratulated Swami. “I hope you are satisfied.”

“Yes, Sir,” Swami reiterated.

“You know how seriously I take these performance appraisals of my staff. Congratulations again.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Swami said.

After completing this narration, Swami told us, “So, that was my appraisal done by that self-absorbed bully. I feel I get paid my salary mainly to listen to this knucklehead’s bragging baloney.”

“Well, your emotions are well understood. But for three ‘Yes Sirs’ and one ‘Indeed Sir’ and one ‘Thank you Sir’, it wasn’t a bad outcome. Pretty decent return on investment,” Jigneshbhai remarked.

Swami sipped his coffee and bit into his muffin again. “Well, yeah. That’s why I tolerate it. All you have to do is say ‘Yes Sir’ for listening to 30 minutes of crap. So, the appraisal was fine, but the main part didn’t happen.”

“You mean the leave application?” Jigneshbhai asked.

“Yes, Sir, I mean yes,” Swami smiled. He had not recovered from the hangover of ‘Yes Sirs’.

“Why?” Jigneshbhai asked and Swami went back to his story.

“Well, just as he congratulated me – though for what reason I still haven’t figured out, I thought the moment was opportune to take up the topic of leave. But at precisely that moment, his secretary came into the room,” Swami started.

“Sir, he is here,” the secretary said.

“Oh, what’s the time?” Raichand looked at his Rolex watch and said, “Wow, it’s 12.40 already! Swami, you talk so much. I didn’t realise we spent so much time together.” Then he looked at his secretary and said, “Yes, send him in. No, actually, let him sit in meeting room #2. I will join him right away.”

Swami tried to intervene, “Sir, just two minutes?”

“No, Swami, some other time, let’s meet again. Now I have to run, can’t keep the visitor waiting. He is important,” Raichand said, and opened the door and walked out.

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