D.K.Vaid
It was around middle of November. A time of the year when Jammu is cheerily ensconced in the lap of a pleasant weather and is buzzing with the business of the ‘just moved Darbar’! A very perfect season for working and for saving energy in the government offices! The A.Cs are silent, fans are resting in peace and the heat convectors still nestling in the stores. But my euphoria that day was neither because of the weather, nor on account of the energy saved. My three meetings in a row, two of which were chaired by the Chief Minister and one by the Minister-in-Charge, had gone immensely well. And now I was happily relaxing in my retiring room, bearing a satisfied heart (through received encomiums for explaining things well) and a satiated belly (through the three high teas during the meetings).
In our government meetings, tea and snacks occupy as important a place as the agendas and notes do and the standard of the snacks served is directly proportionate with the size and rank of the person chairing the meeting. The Department of Hospitality & Protocol is the official caterer of the Government and knows its protocol thoroughly well in being lavish or frugal as per the order of precedence. When your mind is free and stomach full, a short nap is what you are entitled to. I was about to embark on this, when the buzzer beeped.
‘One Mr. Narinder wants to see you, sir!’ my P.A. said in a hushed tone. I could see her scared face through the tremble of her voice. I controlled my anger and said softly, ‘Arnie, didn’t I tell you….?’ ‘Sir, the gentleman claims to be an old friend!’ Arnie was speaking unsurely. Neither wanting to take the man on his face value nor willing to take a chance, in case the gentleman actually turns out to be a friend of her boss. I could gauge well her apprehension. All through my three meetings, I too was behaving ‘uncertain on many an occasion’. But that was done purposely. An acquired trick of the trade!
In our system of governance, we have big bosses and VIP bosses and the small ones like me have not only to know the art of ‘presenting’ but must possess acumen to ‘please’. In the administrative structure where hierarchical order has to be revered and followed like religion, your efficiency is not measured on the barometer of your facts, figures, stats, performance or achievement. It rests mostly on your method of reporting. If you lay your eggs in one go, with the skill of a perfectionist, you are doomed. Take your papers out, slowly, gradually – looking at the boss expectantly for encouragement and guidance. Commit minor mistakes deliberately and allow yourself to be corrected graciously. Don’t reply to the silly questions of your Big/VIP boss; wait, hesitate and then answer. Shuffle your sheets, feigning feeble grasp and conveying the impression that the query is so serious that it needs the back up of notes to figure out a reply.
I had learnt my lessons on this ‘acquired process of presenting to please’ from no less a bureaucrat than the one who was then Principal Secretary. In his condescending tone, he would tell me, ‘Mr. D, you’re intelligent and prompt, but since you’re not skillful enough, you may not earn the grace of your boss.’ This civil servant liked to call people by the first letter of their first name. And his reason for this practice was itself ingenuity. “When I call you ‘D’,” he confided once, “I may think of you as ‘decent’ or ‘dirty’ depending on my mood of the moment.”
Well, he was educating me in the art of ‘boss pleasing’. ‘Let the boss feel that he is the captain there and you’re a mere navvy, who can only think or perform through boss’s guidance. Don’t reply or produce information promptly on the spot. Say simply that you will have to check up. Then go to your room and relax over a cup of coffee or through a telephone talk with your girl friend. Return to the boss only after a reasonable time and with unreasonable looks of the labour purported to have been put to collect the information asked for. Now present (to please) that one which you must have been knowing all along and could have bleated out in the first instance. But that could have taken the weight out of the question and the questioner and given you a weight. This even though could inflate your ego, but would deflate your position before the boss. It is almost a case of your ego versus his. Nurturing the first one may raise your self esteem in your eyes, but catering to the second will ensure for you the grace of your boss. And I will advise you to always cater to the ego of your boss, if you want a safe passage in ‘Postings’ and ‘Promotions’.
The advising civil servant was now looking immensely happy with himself and was watching my discomfort with an open glee. One thing for sure I knew about all bosses and this without learning that their happiest moments were when their subordinate would itch in discomfort. In corporate sector they focus so much on the ‘comfort zone’ of their workers; in government, working comfort zone would mean indiscipline. How these disciplined departments of the government come out with indisciplined performers is a story known to all and need no repeat. But the moral of the story was yet to come out from my teacher of a boss. ‘You know’ he said matter of factly, ‘They would appreciate labour, not wit; asses not aces.’
Arnie who was patiently holding at the other end, beeped again. ‘Oh yes, Narinder who……?’ I said with an intended harshness. Despite my all learnings about ‘hesitating’ business before my bosses, I expected my subordinates to be prompt and perfect and submit all information in just one go. Arnie quickly returned to her original frequency and came out with full facts about the gentleman in question. He turned out to be old hostel room-mate who had snapped connection for many years now. It was certainly my day. After three so called successful meetings, this one with my old friend was for real. Neither the snacks we devoured together bore any protocol, nor did the expletives we used for each other meant any offence. It was hand to hand and heart to heart talk.
Another hearty talk I handled without affectations was on the day of my farewell party. While appreciating the all around assistance of my Personal Assistant, I suddenly realized that I was using some borrowed words of praise. In fact I was lauding my woman assistant in the language of my old boss. The occasion then too was a farewell. My boss, the Advisor to His Excellency, the Governor; was getting his see-off and I as his Special Assistant was receiving my share of happy praise from him. Now, I was giving those very words to my Assistant. If receiving praise makes you happy, handing it out could make you happier. Interestingly, this appreciation which I was now repeating verbatim was pregnant with words like efficiency, promptness, wit, intelligence and ace performance.
Aces cannot go unsung. Only asses would love asses and every boss is not an ass. And here is a case in point.
My old senior who taught me tricks of the trade, when came to be my Principal Secretary in a department, disposed off one of my submitted files as under, ‘Where was this file for twenty two days, twelve hours and forty two minutes? Explain!’ Added to this note was something scrabbled in pencil! Unable to read that with naked eyes, I hurriedly put my specs on. And as I went through those innocuous words, my lips darted apart in surprise and amusement. Two lines were, ‘The tricks I taught you were for an ass of a boss, not for the boss of an ass.’
Since that day I may have held back my breath while practicing yoga or to conceal alcoholic whiff from my wife; but have never withheld an answer or information.
(The Columnist with his pen name as Darshan Darshi is a Dogri writer and a Sahitya Akademi Awardee; besides former Civil Servant)
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