The day before his company’s off-site, Swami was already in panic mode.
“Vidya, where’s my white shirt? The one that doesn’t look too formal but still says I’m serious.”
“I didn’t think you needed a shirt to say that you’re serious!” Vidya said, with a sly smile, not looking up from the newspaper.
“Yes, I need that shirt,” Swami said. “Raichand notices these things. I have to put up a show of seriousness. I can’t appear frivolous,” he added.
Vidya handed it to him.
“Now I am all set. I have two shirts, three ties and a spare set of formal socks just in case.”
He had also printed some notes — talking points, accomplishments, phrases that sounded impressive. For Swami, this off-site was a performance.
Meera wandered in, munching on toast. “Papa, it’s an off-site, not an Oscars red carpet.”
Swami glared. “That’s what you think. My boss, Raichand, is always watching.”
The next morning, Swami arrived at the office shuttle point armed with a folder of “strategic notes” that nobody had asked for.
Chimpu was already there, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Swami bhai!” Chimpu exclaimed. “Today is historic. Raichand is going to unveil the company’s vision for 2030.”
When they reached the resort, Swami was allotted a group with Manoj.
“What are we supposed to do?” Swami wondered.
“The lunch buffet should have been arranged left to right,” Manoj said.
Raichand arrived last but strutted at the centre like a general surveying his troops. Chimpu hovered, nodding at everything that the boss said, as if it were an offering to a deity.
The schedule was packed with events throughout the day.
The morning started with an event that said “build a tower with straws.”
Raichand declared that his team was the “strategic group,” then proceeded to dictate orders without touching a single straw. Chimpu clapped at each instruction that Raichand gave.
Swami carefully balanced two straws for his group, only to have Manoj knock them over while explaining the aerodynamic principles of towers.
Swami tried again. The straws stood this time. “These straws are quite tough to balance,” he remarked, pleased with his effort.
“All of us have a tough balancing job. It’s not the tower that needs to stand,” Raichand interrupted, “it’s the team spirit,” and he banged the table with gusto.
Swami’s tower collapsed immediately. “Careful, careful,” Raichand remarked. Swami looked around to see if the groups were being scored.
Next on the cards was an event where everyone had to then say one difficult thing they had achieved in office, other than work.
Manoj said, “I hold the record for never spilling coffee from the machine to my desk.” He was the one who laughed loudest at his joke.
Swami had rehearsed something witty and practical, but when his turn came he forgot what it was. Instead he said, “I once fixed the office printer without calling the IT helpdesk.”
To his surprise, everyone applauded as if he’d admitted to performing a small miracle. Swami prayed that his answer gets brownie points for himself and his group.
But he found no one keeping the score.
After a tea break, the groups moved to “role-play presentations.” Each group had to sell an imaginary product.
Manoj insisted on being lead presenter for Swami’s team.
“Friends,” he began, “imagine a world where socks fold themselves. Productivity will double. Happiness will triple. Global warming will reverse.”
Swami wondered why he always ended up in the wrong team. With Manoj and his over-exuberance and impractical ideas, there was no way this role-play was going to go the way Swami wanted. He tried to interject with numbers, but Manoj drowned him out.
The real opportunity came at lunch.
Raichand wanted to impress the CEO, who was visiting for the afternoon. Swami geared himself for the occasion.
Raichand had instructed the caterer to prepare a special dish. He even announced it as “Raichand’s Signature Paneer” at the buffet.
Unfortunately, the dish was too spicy. The CEO took one bite, coughed violently, and reached for water. Chimpu, in his eagerness to help, handed the CEO soda instead. The CEO spluttered louder. For a moment, even the vision for 2030 was postponed.
Raichand’s face lost its practiced smile. Swami rushed a bowl of dessert to Raichand, who promptly gave it to the CEO.
Chimpu held out an extra neglected spoon. Swami stood next to Raichand and watched the CEO calm down over dessert.
He realised that no number of serious shirts or vision statements could do what a bowl of gulab jamun did.
The CEO then congratulated Raichand on ‘building a close-knit, high-results team’
After that, Raichand was in a good mood for the rest of the day.
Two days later, Swami narrated all of this to us at the café.
“…and then, Jigneshbhai, the paneer was so spicy even the CEO had tears in his eyes. But Chimpu was still nodding like Raichand was the answer to all of the world’s problems.”
I laughed. “So, what did you do, Swami?”
“Nothing,” Swami admitted. “I just survived the day. The straw towers, the role play, the spicy paneer – there were enough occasions for me to lose it,” he said.
“But for once, I wasn’t the most panicked person in the room,” he added.
“By sheer luck, I found the gulab jamun bowl next to me. But it saved the day.”
Jigneshbhai smiled. “That’s the thing about bosses like Raichand. Sometimes their own show trips them up. You don’t need to compete with their drama or be their sidekick like Chimpu. Just play your part, that’s it.”
Swami looked doubtful. “But what if he thinks I didn’t do enough?”
“Will someone like Raichand ever think that you did enough, whatever you do?” Jigneshbhai asked calmly.
Swami and I looked at each other. We both knew the answer.
“I had gone in with a mindset of trying very hard to perform well,” he admitted. “But the moment I stopped trying to impress, I actually felt better.”
“Your career won’t be made or broken by an off-site. But your peace will be — if you think it will,” Jigneshbhai concluded.
Swami sipped his coffee quietly. For once, he didn’t argue.
***
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