77. WHEN I WAS IMPRISONED IN THE BANK (2002)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

The Highs and Lows of A Woman’s Journey in the Corporate World

CARE: This is Chapter 77 of my book Stress, Success and Everything In-Between. These are individual anecdotes but to understand the professional journey in totality, I would recommend reading the book right from Chapter 01 onwards.

Finally, I was promoted to Top Executive Grade when I expected it the least. Before I could respond to innumerable congratulatory messages, I was moved to Chandigarh and thrust into the murky depths of the Recovery and Rehabilitation Branch.

My desk promptly became a dump yard of fat files containing the history and developments of non-performing accounts parked at the branch. Every account had at least two fat files, and my head was perpetually buried in the mountain of these files. Days blurred into a monotonous cycle of studying and understanding the details of each case, and I spent every moment trying to understand them. A week was over in a blink.

On that particular evening, I was engrossed in studying a file when my esteemed boss phoned, “I want a status report on the Lal & Lal Industries. Tomorrow morning at 10am sharp!”

Panic set in. I looked at the clock. It was already past 6 pm. The history of Lal & Lal Industries was spread over three fat files already adorning my desk. Looking at their size, I had kept them aside to be studied last. I stepped out of my cabin only to find that the officer who handled the case had already left. My next in command was on leave. It sent a shiver down my spine. Even if I worked the entire night, I could not have prepared a self-contained note on the account by 10am the next day. Still, I picked up the files and started studying them. I was so engrossed in pasting Post-it slips, putting flags on the relevant notes and studying the files that I lost track of time. 

As I delved deep into this unwarranted abyss, the lights went off. The office room plunged into darkness and an eerie silence, punctuated only by the whirring of my Personal Computer. Assuming the electricity had gone off, I waited for someone to switch on the generator soon. A few minutes passed, but nothing happened. I pressed the call bell, but it did not function. I emerged from my room and was shocked to find the entire floor dark and deserted. Despite it being pitch dark, I managed to reach the main door. It was locked from the outside. The security guard on the evening duty, not finding anyone in the main hall, had locked the gates from outside, switched off the lights, and left. I thumped at the massive wooden door and pounded hard, but the banging echoed through the empty hall. There was no response from anywhere. I had actually become a prisoner on my office floor.

Fumbling through the numerous office tables and chairs, I managed to return to my office room. Searching through various drawers in the dim light of the computer screen, I finally located the phone directory. As my eyes strained to decipher the phone numbers, the tabletop computer, my last beacon of hope, sputtered and died. Its battery back-up had conked off.

Uff! What do I do now? Who do I contact? I looked out of the window of my room on the second floor. All the cars had moved, and the parking lot was empty. I tried to shout loudly and wave frantically at some people I saw on the ground floor, but nobody looked up or heard my voice.

Then, I remembered my cell phone, my new, fancy acquisition post promotion, which I had received that day only. I fumbled for it in my bag, my fingers trembling. Who will I call? I had not fed any numbers in its phone book. Thankfully, there was a call from a colleague who had called me earlier that day to test my phone. He responded quickly. After I recounted my predicament, he laughed loudly, "You must be kidding. Right?" And then came the big surprise. My colleague handed his cell phone to our boss, who roared with a hearty chuckle, "Locked in the Bank, eh? Sounds like a good start to your assignment." They were sharing a drink at his home: I could hear their laughter with the sound of ice cubes clinking in their whisky glasses. Jealousy, raw and bitter, washed over me.

The Security Officer soon arrived with the security guard, and they extended profuse apologies while releasing me from the unintended prison.

I carried all three files relating to the Lal & Lal Industries home, toiled overnight to prepare a note on the case, and took it to the boss at 10 am sharp. His room was empty.

His Personal Secretary informed me, "The boss has left for Delhi this morning to attend a meeting. He will be away for two days. I wonder why he asked you to get this note by 10 am today."

I returned to my room and wondered what the urgency expressed the previous evening was all about. Could it be a sinister ploy to make me burn the midnight oil? Or was it to test the level of my commitment? Or to get vicarious pleasure out of my discomfiture? God alone knows!  

(To continue....)

*****

76. STRANGE ARE THE WAYS OF DESTINY! (2001)

STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

The Highs and Lows of A Woman’s Journey in the Corporate World

CARE: This is Chapter 76 of my book Stress, Success and Everything In-Between. These are individual anecdotes but to understand the professional journey in totality, I would recommend reading the book right from Chapter 01 onwards, link given below:
https://ranjanabharij.blogspot.com/2023/06/stress-success-and-everything-in.html

Two years passed, and I was transferred to head the Personnel & HR Department in the Head Office. A wave of congratulations and good wishes swept over me. It was the first time a woman officer was posted in this position in the Bank. Suddenly, I became a very popular person. Everyone seemed eager to befriend me, and the number of Diwali and New Year greetings skyrocketed. I knew this newfound popularity was not for me but for my position.

Soon, the time for my third and final promotion attempt to the top executive grade arrived. The memory of my previous two rejections still stung, particularly the explanation given by the Chairman of the first interview board: they could not promote too many women to the top cadre. Despite this setback, I prepared diligently for the upcoming opportunity for promotion. I delved into my notes and books, brushing up on the theoretical aspects of banking, but it was with some scepticism this time.

However, life had other plans. It was early morning. My husband and I had gone for our morning walk in a nearby park. Suddenly, he experienced pain in his upper abdomen. He found it difficult to walk. We rested for ten minutes on a bench in the park, and he felt normal, and we resumed our walk. After another five minutes of walking, the pain reappeared. Rest brought it back to normal. Walk, pain, rest, relief… Walk, pain, rest, relief… with difficulty, we returned home. A cardiac checkup confirmed our worst fears: he had significant arterial blockages. The cardiologist recommended angioplasty, a procedure that would hopefully resolve the issue. A stent or two should take care of the blockages, and he will be discharged from the hospital within a day.

Two days later, he was wheeled into the Catheterization Lab, and I sat outside waiting for the process to be over. Waiting outside, I picked up the newspaper to read the latest Credit Policy the Reserve Bank of India had announced the previous day. I read it three times, but nothing registered. A mix of anxiety and worry was consuming me, and my mind had lost its capability to understand and absorb information. The nuances of how the Reserve Bank of India proposed to handle the money market in the country were of no interest to me. The reality of his health overshadowed everything else. I folded the newspaper and threw it away. Whispering a silent prayer for his well-being, I looked at my son. He appeared tense. I patted his arm, “Let us go and have some coffee. A cup of strong coffee would perhaps soothe our frayed nerves."

An unexpected announcement on the public address system startled me, and I jumped out of the chair in the coffee shop. The cardiologist wanted me to come up and see him urgently. So soon? I was worried and almost ran up to the floor where my husband lay in the operation theatre. The cardiologist informed me they could not perform angioplasty as the blockages were too severe and complex. He explained that there were too many blockages in the arteries and at the points where the arteries branch off into two. It was not possible to insert a stent there. The only solution was bypass surgery. The doctor advised, "If you want a second opinion, we will discharge him by evening. The only word of caution is that you decide fast. His arteries are severely clogged. We cannot wait much.” The doctor was pleasant and explained his view and approach clearly.

I discussed it with my husband, and he decided to undergo the bypass surgery.

That evening, I decided my career ambitions had to take a backseat. Looking after my husband was my priority. I put away my banking books and study material to be given to the kabadi.

The surgery was successful, but the recovery process was arduous. Juggling hospital visits, home care, and attending to visiting friends and relatives was exhausting. It was taking its toll on me, but I was trying to be a superwoman.

Amidst this chaos, the interview dates were announced. My interview was scheduled just ten days after the open heart surgery of my husband. I had decided not to appear for the interview. But my husband urged me to attend the interview.

“I have no intentions of going for the interview. If I go and they promote me, they will definitely transfer me out of Delhi. I cannot leave you here in this condition and move out,” I argued with him.

“I think you must go for the interview. If I find it difficult to live alone in Delhi, I will take leave and stay with you until I recuperate fully. But do not miss this opportunity,” his voice was feeble.

"But I have not even prepared anything. I will feel like a fool in the interview. Try to understand," I was uncomfortable at the thought of facing the interview board in this state of complete unpreparedness.

My son joined him in sermonising me, “Mom, you cannot give up the race even without running it. If you have to lose it, lose it after running. One does not always win in life, but you must try. You never know…” They were both encouraging me not to give up without a fight.

Reluctantly, I reached the venue of the interview. The undertaking I was required to sign before the interview read, “In the event of my getting promoted, I am willing to be posted anywhere in India or abroad.”

My hand trembled as I picked up the pen to sign that undertaking, and I stopped. Then, I thought the Interview Committee would not recommend me in this state of unpreparedness. So I made up my mind and signed the paper, albeit shakily.

I felt neither pressure of performance nor fear of rejection. It was okay if I would not be selected. I no longer craved the promotion. In fact, I secretly hoped I would be rejected.

In the interview, the Chairman of the Board fired the first question, “So you are heading the personnel department here? You must be an expert in personnel matters.” The question from the person who had handled nothing but personnel-related matters for most of his career was intimidating. But my answer was short and crisp, “No, sir. I am not an expert at all. Personnel is such a vast and complex area that even a lifetime of exposure is not enough to master the intricacies of this discipline.”

“Mrs Bharij, Reserve Bank of India recently announced the Busy Season Credit Policy. Can you tell us the salient features of the policy?” Another member asked.

I rolled my eyes, looked at the ceiling and then at the member and replied with a smile, “I do not know.”

“Mrs Bharij, did you not read it to prepare for the interview?” The board member obviously did not like it.

“It is not so, sir. I have read it, but I cannot recall anything right now. Maybe I am nervous.” Making an honest admission, I grinned.

At the end of the interview, I was confident they would not select me, and that is what I wanted. Once again, after twenty-two years, I deliberately tried to erase the career lines from my palm.

A fortnight later, the results were announced and much to my surprise, I was promoted and transferred to a new location. I had sacrificed the stability of my family for a career advancement I did not truly desire.  I did not want any promotion or transfer at this stage of life, but I got both. Once again, a conflict between my domestic life and my career began, and I started packing my bags for Chandigarh.

Aren’t the ways of destiny strange?

(To be continued....)

*****

75. SHATTERED DREAMS, UNBROKEN SPIRIT (2000)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

The Highs and Lows of A Woman’s Journey in the Corporate World

CARE: This is Chapter 75 of my book Stress, Success and Everything In-Between. These are individual anecdotes but to understand the professional journey in totality, I would recommend reading the book right from Chapter 01 onwards, link given below:
https://ranjanabharij.blogspot.com/2023/06/stress-success-and-everything-in.html

https://ranjanabharij.blogspot.com/2023/06/stress-success-and-everything-in.html

A year had passed, but the sting of my previous rejection still throbbed. The words of the Chairman of the Interview Board, a cruel indictment of my gender, continued to echo in my mind. It was a wound that had refused to heal.

But hope, a fragile bloom, dared to rise its head again as the Bank summoned me for another interview. Favourable recommendations had paved the way, and anticipation stirred within me. I delved into my studies, though a sense of cynicism clouded my efforts this time.

A chance encounter with a fellow batchmate shattered my optimism. His derisive laughter and cynical advice, steeped in the bitterness of nepotism, cut deep. "Prostrate yourself before the top man. There is no other way to get your promotion," he sneered, his words a stark reflection of the system.

I rejected his proposal, determined to earn my promotion through merit, not by sycophancy. I returned home, my heart heavy with despair. But fueled by a mix of hope and positivity, I once again immersed myself in my studies to update my knowledge of banking.

The interview, a battleground of knowledge, intellect and poise, concluded, and I emerged cautiously optimistic. The day of the result arrived, and a friend's jubilant call from the Corporate Centre filled me with anticipation. "Keep the champagne ready!" He said and I believed him: he was in a position where he would know the result. But fate had other plans. My name was once again missing from the list of promoted candidates. 

Years later, working within the corridors of power, I discovered the harsh reality. At the last moment, my name was removed from the list of successful candidates to accommodate a well-connected candidate. 

The realization was a bitter pill to swallow, a stark reminder of the systemic bias that continues to hinder people like us, the people without a Godfather!

(To be continued...)

*****

74. HOW I WISH I DIDN'T KNOW IT! (1999)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

The Highs and Lows of A Woman’s Journey in the Corporate World

CARE: This is Chapter 74 of my book Stress, Success and Everything In-Between. These are individual anecdotes but to understand the professional journey in totality, I would recommend reading the book right from Chapter 01 onwards, link given below:

https://ranjanabharij.blogspot.com/2023/06/stress-success-and-everything-in.html

Exactly nine months after I joined the Okhla Industrial Estate branch, the inspection team arrived and checked thoroughly every aspect of banking. I was ecstatic when the rating jumped two steps up. It was an unprecedented feat, especially given the high level of NPAs (Non-Performing Accounts). My superiors praised me endlessly, and I felt a sense of accomplishment.

Soon thereafter, I was due for promotion and was short-listed for an interview. The interview date arrived quickly, and I was sitting outside the room waiting for my turn. It was my first chance for promotion to the top executive grade. Waiting for my turn for the interview, I felt a bit nervous and tense. I had excelled in my assignments, garnered glowing appraisals, and meticulously prepared for the theoretical aspects of banking. Yet, the spectre of performance anxiety was raising its ugly head off and on. 

There was still some time for my turn to come. There was only one candidate between me and the interview board. Vinay Varma (not his real name), who was also one of the candidates but listed at the end, commented from the far end of the room, “Ranjana, do not worry. You will surely make it.”

Sensing his tongue-in-cheek tone, I asked, “And how you are so sure, Vinay?”

“It is because you are a woman. For women candidates, the Interview Board does not see performance. What matters is how you smile at them. You have a charming smile, so you are through. Simple, my dear Dr Watson!”

Vinay burst into laughter, suggesting that my charm, rather than my performance, would ensure my promotion.

His snide comment resonated well with others in the room. It was a stark reminder of the pervasive chauvinism in the workplace. While I was accustomed to such petty remarks, his words stung. Swallowing the affront, I gave the dialogue a light-hearted twist, “Oh really? Had you told me this secret earlier, I would not have worked that hard.”

My turn for the interview had come, and I walked in. The interview went smoothly. I felt confident in my answers and was happy with my performance. The earlier dialogue with other candidates did not affect me: I knew I had cracked it.

A month later, I was surprised to receive an apologetic phone call from a colleague, "I am very sorry. It is so unfortunate."

"Why? What happened?" I asked curiously.

"Oh! You did not know about it? In that case, I should not have called you up," the colleague sounded repentant.

"But what has happened?" I insisted.

"The result has been announced, and I am very sorry you could not make it. Now the rest of your career has gone for a toss," he continued lamenting.

"Never mind, sir. I have two more chances. I am sure I will make it the next time," I tried to put on a brave front.

"No, Madam. A soldier who once falls on the battlefield never gets up. Your career has now reached a dead end," he continued to mourn the death of my career.

Not expecting this failure, I was a little upset. However, I rationalized it by telling myself that the interview was a process of elimination. Those who were promoted must be better than me, but deep in my heart, I knew the capabilities of those who had been promoted. Never mind, I will try next time, I comforted myself. I did not run up to my seniors, seeking their sympathy and the reasons for my rejection. I had faith in the system.

A fortnight later, I had to attend a meeting in the Head Office. It was sheer chance that I came face to face with the Chairman of the Interview Board. Seeing me, he stopped, "I am very sorry, Mrs Bharij. You could not make it. You see, I was quite helpless. We could not promote both the ladies from this area. There were only two of you. I am sure you will understand this limitation."

I was shocked but did not say anything. I had learned well that spontaneous reactions are better avoided in this strongly hierarchical setup, but my blood was boiling. It was straight from the Chairman of the Interview Board. Is there a quota for women? Why could they not promote both women if both were good? What had I not done? I had taken the unions head-on. I had improved customer service manifold. I brought about improvement in every parameter of the functioning of the branch. The Inspection rating of the branch had skyrocketed. Some of the people the Bank had selected for promotion had not performed half as well, but there was no quota for their gender. I had read somewhere that a woman has to work doubly hard to prove half as good as a man. Was it not true? When it was the question of reward as promotion, an unwritten quota had limited my upward movement. I had just hit the glass ceiling and had hit it hard. It was painful.

Until then, I had not felt upset about my non-promotion. But after knowing the real reason for my rejection, my faith in the system was shaken. 

How I wished I was not privy to this inside information! 

(To be continued)

*****

73. RECLAIMING AUTHORITY AND CONTROL (1999)

STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

The Highs and Lows of A Woman’s Journey in the Corporate World

CARE: This is Chapter 73 of my book Stress, Success and Everything In-Between. These are individual anecdotes but to understand the professional journey in totality, I would recommend reading the book right from Chapter 01 onwards, on the link given below

https://ranjanabharij.blogspot.com/2023/06/stress-success-and-everything-in.html

When I joined the Okhla Industrial Estate Branch, it was plagued by a culture of defiance, low employee morale, a non-cooperative employee union and a dismal inspection rating. The strong employee union aggravated the situation, with even the lowest-level staff openly disregarding authority. It was evident that decisive action was necessary to restore order and improve performance. But any reckless action would have aggravated the situation further. I had to take careful baby steps.

Scene 01: I needed to send some papers to another desk and pressed the call bell button. Nobody came. Pressed it again and waited. Nobody turned up. I again pressed it twice in quick succession, but still no response. But this time, my PS came in and took the papers from me. My Secret Agent #001 informed me that the previous branch head was very active, and he never used to call the messenger. He did all the running around, handing over the vouchers and registers at various desks himself. I asked him to look for the Head Messenger and send him to me. The Head Messenger, accustomed to a lax work environment, walked in after fifteen minutes. When asked why he did not come in when I pressed the bell, he stated carelessly, “I did not hear the bell.”

“And what were you doing that you did not hear the call bell I pressed three times?” I demanded.

“I was on the second floor having tea with Secretary Sahab,” he responded casually.

“No more going to the canteen for your chai! Place your stool outside my door and sit there. You have to be in my room forthwith when I call you. Otherwise, watch out about saving your pension.” I warned him curtly.

Stunned at my stern response, he left the room meekly only to comply with my instructions in future.

Scene 02: A valuable customer was visiting me, and I decided to call for tea. A lot of time passed, but Thapa, the canteen boy, did not turn up despite repeated reminders. The visitor understood my helplessness and left, politely seeking a rain cheque for the tea. The fellow brought tea after half an hour and faced my wrath. When I asked why he took so long to get two cups of tea, he said nonchalantly, ”I was busy making bread pakodas and tea for Secretary Saab.”

I lost my cool and fumed, “Listen carefully, Thapa. When I order something, it has to be complied with as a top priority, ignoring the demands of all others".

He thought I did not understand and repeated emphatically, “But it was Secretary Saab whose chai-nashta I was preparing.” He sounded like Secretary Sahab was the highest authority in the branch!

This infuriated me further, and I lost my temper. “Thaapa!!! Listen carefully. I am the boss, and I allow you to work here. If you delay my order the next time, I will close your canteen and throw all your stuff out. Aur tumhe doosri manzil se utha ke neeche phenk doongi. Samajh gaye na? (I will physically throw you down from the second floor.) Now get lost!!!”  

“And Thapa, listen carefully. I have got new bone-china cups and saucers. You dare not serve tea to any staff member in these, not even the Secretary. These are only for the visitors in my room and no one else!” Forgetting all the lessons of politeness, empathy and staff handling with kid gloves learnt in HR programmes, I was as rude as possible. Thapa, the canteen boy, understood this language well, and the tea/coffee demanded by me after this was invariably served without any delay.

Scene 03: Reaching late for work was the habit of most staff members. They would not come to work before 10.30am. All this while, I had to face the complaining customers and pacify them with lame excuses. Had I marked a cross against their names, the Attendance Register would have been full of red crosses, and I could not afford to send half the staff back. To address the issue of late arrivals, I adopted an off-beat approach.

I went and sat down on the stairs at the entrance of the branch. Seeing me sitting there, some of the latecomers moved swiftly, apologized and gave some lame excuse before rushing off to their desks. Somebody said his scooter was punctured, while another blamed the unusual traffic on the road for his late arrival. Somebody said his child missed the school bus, and he had to go to drop him off. A few quietly said sorry and rushed in. The latecomers were thus forced to confront their lack of discipline without my uttering a single word.

This continued for a few days, and sure enough, the Union Secretary came in and demanded to know why I sat at the branch entrance every morning.

“I am the head of the branch and can be present in any part of the premises at any time,” I was unperturbed.

“It is not safe for you to stand there alone. A customer may come in a drunken state. Being a woman, it may not be good for your safety.” He tried to be patriarchal.

"Listen, I am the AGM of this branch and the AGM does not have a gender. If you are concerned about my safety, tell your members to be on time. I have no choice but to step out of my room because the customers in the banking hall are getting agitated as the counters are not manned. They come and shout at me. I go and sit outside to avoid them.”

“But the staff feels embarrassed with this action of yours.”

“Then ask them to come on time. They can surely come half an hour earlier.”

After a few days of this drama, most people became punctual, and I smiled at myself. This unconventional way of tackling late arrivals initially met with resistance from the union. But ultimately, it instilled a sense of responsibility in the staff.

But little did I know what was cooking behind my back.

Scene 04: One evening, when I reached home at 9pm after attending a gruelling Performance Review meeting at the Head Office, I received a call from a lady officer from the staff. She informed me that there was no water supply at the branch. The storage tank was empty, and the desert coolers were dry. In the hot summer of June, the staff was highly agitated, and the Union Secretary had given a call for a walk-out if the water supply was not restored. So she decided to forewarn me of the impending trouble. I thought for a minute, located the phone number of a water supply tanker and asked them to supply a tank of water to the underground tank of the bank early in the morning. I also instructed the Guard to get the water filled from the tanker and pump it to the overhead tank.

The next day, I reached the branch to find all the desert coolers functioning effectively. Incidentally, our Secretary Sahab decided to be on leave that day. He must have been informed that the water problem was resolved.

I walked around the branch to locate the cause of the disruption in the water supply and managed to find it. The Delhi Jal Board supply pipeline had been broken deliberately. This was an ugly attempt to escalate tensions and disrupt branch operations, which was foiled due to timely information shared by my Secret Agent # 002.

Scene 05: The President of the Staff Union had committed some irregularity many years ago. This misconduct had gone unpunished due to his influence at the Head Office level, and no action was being taken against him. I reopened the case and started sending reminders to the Head Office. I also wrote his name and case boldly on the file. I would often call him on some pretext after placing this file on the top of the other papers. While I talked to him, I could see he was eyeing the file from the corner of his eyes. Later, he would ask my PS, “Why has she got my file on her table? Has something come from Head Office?” Seeing the file on my table intermittently kept him under continuous stress, and his tone and tenor mellowed dramatically. By subtly reminding him of his vulnerabilities and keeping his file visible, I eroded his confidence, and he was forced to adopt a less offensive attitude.

Scene 06: The Union Secretary sought time to discuss staff-related issues with me. I told him to come after business hours at 3pm. He walked in with half a dozen cronies.

“Why so many people? Only the President and Secretary should sit down. Others may leave,” I directed assertively.

All were stunned to hear this. The Secretary tried to argue, “They are all my people. They can also sit through the discussion.”

“Are the two of you not competent enough to discuss the issues? So many people are not required. Two of you sit down. Others may please leave the room.” My instructions were a matter of fact. The cronies complied and went out but settled in the anteroom with the PS, where the conversation was audible. I had won the first round of the trial of strength.

The main issue was marking crosses against the latecomers on the attendance register. As the discussion took off, he started raising his voice. He wanted his cronies, waiting outside, to hear he could plead their case powerfully.

“I am not hard of hearing. You need not raise your voice.” I said gently but would he listen?

I again told him softly not to raise his voice, but he was getting increasingly agitated and started shouting. In that emotional outburst when he had lost his cool, his language turned abusive, “Hum hi saxxx chxxxxx hain jo aapse co-operate karte hain?” (Are we xxxxxx that we continue to co-operate with you?)

I grabbed the opportunity and screamed, “How dare you use such a word in front of a senior officer? Do you know you are talking to the AGM of the Bank? You are using unparliamentary language in front of a lady officer.” I was unstoppable and kept on repeating the same thing in different words like a TV reporter.

The Union Secretary and the President were taken aback. They had never experienced a Branch Manager shouting at them in this manner. They always used to cajole and flatter them, using only persuasive and gentle tones. My loud and threatening voice immediately brought their tempers down, and they quickly lowered their tone. They said sorry in an almost inaudible tone and left the room, requesting that I be more cooperative with the staff in the future.

Thereafter, I did not have to face any industrial relations issues in the branch and could focus on improving the inspection rating. By implementing these strategies, I successfully transformed the branch culture. The staff became more disciplined, punctual, and respectful. The inspection took place, and the inspection rating improved by two notches to become “Well Run". The branch had regained its reputation as a well-run institution and I was on top of the world.

(To be continued...)

*****

 

72. ANOTHER POSTING, NEW CHALLENGE (1999)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

The Highs and Lows of A Woman’s Journey in the Corporate World

CARE: This is Chapter 72 of my book Stress, Success and Everything In-Between. These are individual anecdotes but to understand the professional journey in totality, I would recommend reading the book right from Chapter 01 onwards on the link given below
https://ranjanabharij.blogspot.com/2023/06/stress-success-and-everything-in.html

I had barely completed two years at Dehra Dun when I was abruptly transferred to head the Okhla Industrial Estate Branch in Delhi. A well-meaning friend warned, "Do not go there. It is a disaster. You will ruin your career. Whatever Brahmastra you have, use it now to get your posting changed."

I confronted the HR Head, "I am not a credit-oriented person. The Bank always denied me credit-related positions. Now, I am expected to head an industrial estate branch? Is this fair?"

"I know that and said the same thing to the circle management, but the big boss insisted upon your posting there. The branch is in bad shape, and he believes you can turn things around. He also said that we need a leader there. Credit can be handled by her juniors." HR Head sounded helpless.

Aha! They had finally recognised my leadership skills, I thought and thus, arrived at Okhla Industrial Estate in April 1999.

The branch was a mess, with the NPA to Advances ratio being 62%. The atmosphere of the branch was bleak, employee morale was low, and the staff seemed resigned to failure. Customer service was at its lowest ebb. The otherwise impressive building was splattered with red paan stains in every corner. The entire top floor was full of discarded items which had never been disposed of. The employees' union was strong and defiant and unwilling to cooperate. My next-in-command felt threatened working with a female boss and acted defiant. He even flexed his muscle to threaten me during his speech in my predecessor's farewell party. The Accountant, on the verge of retirement, did only essential work and deflected all his duties towards me. My immediate boss wanted me to focus on an improved rating in the ensuing inspection and audit, which was only nine months away. Overall, everything appeared to be dismal. It was a huge challenge to bring the branch back on the rails. Or so I thought?

I began by implementing a series of reforms, but were the employees willing to cooperate? I soon realised this team could not be handled by adopting a benevolent management style. I had to be tough.

I used a two-pronged strategy, one to create a fear of authority amongst the delinquent employees (will share it in the next episode) and the other to keep the house ready for the ensuing inspection and audit. The factor that was pulling the branch inspection rating down in a big way was high NPAs, which could not be addressed as all these cases were with the BIFR (Board for Industrial and Financial Restructuring) under Govt of India and were to take years to settle down. The only thing I could do was to ensure that even the minutest procedural details of branch functioning were taken care of. The inspection manual immediately became my favourite book, and I set out to put the systems and procedures in order. Simultaneously, I focused on improving the image of the branch and building relationships with customers.  

Taming delinquent employees was another area to be addressed to establish my authority in the branch. I had understood that being polite would not work here. I started using overt and covert means to threaten the delinquent employees.

In this mayhem, two people out of the team of 62 became my secret agents of change and helped me silently without their colleagues getting wind of it. I shall forever be grateful to them for the covert support they provided to me in turning the branch around from a third-rate branch to a top-performing entity. 

 (To be continued...) 

 

*****

71. MYSTERIOUS RECOVERY OF STOLEN CASH (1999)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

The Highs and Lows of A Woman’s Journey in the Corporate World

CARE: This is Chapter 71 of my book Stress, Success and Everything In-Between. These are individual anecdotes but to understand the professional journey in totality, I would recommend reading the book right from Chapter 01 onwards link given below:

https://ranjanabharij.blogspot.com/2023/06/stress-success-and-everything-in.html

One evening, the Accounts Manager came to my room to report an unfortunate incident that had taken place in the cash department of the branch. A bundle of ten-rupee notes had vanished from a cashier's cabin when he went out for a few minutes, leaving it unlocked. The Cash Officer, the joint custodian of the cash, also joined the discussion. We were all concerned, not only about the financial loss but also because this was an unprecedented occurrence during the Cash Officer's tenure. He was also worried as it led to a breach of trust among the cashiers, which had happened for the first time.  Usually, the cashiers trusted each other and left their cash cabins unlocked while moving around. But today was different, and a bundle of notes had disappeared. This was a significant loss, especially in 1998, and the cashier did not have enough funds to deposit the amount from his pocket.

For the uninitiated, let me explain that each bundle of notes has 10 packets, and each packet contains 100 currency notes. Thus, a bundle of ten rupee notes meant Rs 10,000.

The standard procedure is to report such matters to the head office immediately. But the Cash Officer pleaded fervently to delay the reporting by a day. He suspected someone in the department but could not accuse him without proof. He assured me he would get the money back within 24 hours.

The next day, the Cash Officer came to me after lunch, beaming with a surprising revelation. He had retrieved the missing bundle using an unconventional method. The way he managed it was unlike anything I had ever seen before.

That morning, the Cash Officer reached the Bank with a big red tika on his forehead. He had also brought a packet of vermillion and marigold flower petals, which he sprinkled on all the cash counters while chanting some mantra. When questioned about his actions, he explained he had consulted a renowned tantric. The tantric had assured him that whoever had stolen the money would face a divine curse on their family within 24 hours if they did not return it.

To everyone's astonishment, the ploy worked. During lunchtime, when the counters were empty, someone placed the missing bundle on the Cash Officer's table. He was relieved to have recovered the money without involving the police. By doing so, he also managed to save Bank's reputation from getting tarnished.

This incident was a reminder that even the most perplexing mysteries can sometimes be solved through unconventional methods.

(To be continued...)

*****

70. HUM HONGE KAMYAAB! (1998)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

The Highs and Lows of A Woman’s Journey in the Corporate World

CARE: This is Chapter 70 of my book Stress, Success and Everything In-Between. These are individual anecdotes but to understand the professional journey in totality, I would recommend reading the book from Chapter 01 onwards, link given below: 
https://ranjanabharij.blogspot.com/2023/06/stress-success-and-everything-in.html

The Dehra Dun branch, a sprawling entity with four distinct business divisions, was identified to become the first fully computerised branch of Delhi Circle, a daunting task, to say the least. I was promptly assigned two weeks of institutional training to familiarise myself with the intricate processes involved in the task. With the arrival of Head Office officials and the formation of dedicated teams, the pre-computerisation phase commenced with palpable excitement.

The day of reckoning approached with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. The stakes were high; a successful data transfer without disrupting our daily operations was paramount.

The evening before embarking on this monumental task, I addressed the staff. "This is a historic moment," I emphasised. "Our Head Office has placed trust in us by choosing this branch for full computerisation. Let us show them we can." I concluded my speech with a resounding call to action, invoking the iconic slogan, "Hum honge kamyaab" (We will be successful!). In response, the staff members stood up with alacrity and chanted in a chorus, "Hum honge kamyaab!!!" The banking hall resounded with the slogan, giving me goose pimples.

On that winter night, as the clock ticked, the temperature dipped low. But the staff was ready. They were well-armed with woollen caps, mufflers and shawls. Their determination was unwavering. Endless cups of tea kept them warm. They knew that they could not rest until the task was complete. I made rounds of the branch every half hour, checking their progress. The response to my inquiries about their progress was always the same, a resolute "Hum honge kamyaab." This had become a battle cry.

Around one o'clock in the morning, my phone rang. A distressed woman's voice filled my ears. "Where is my husband? It is past midnight," she demanded. I explained the situation, sharing with her that we were all working tirelessly to complete a critical task. She was not convinced. Her words were harsh, her tone accusatory. "Should I send his bedding and cot to the bank? Let him sleep in your room," she spat before slamming the phone.

I was taken aback. Never before had anyone spoken to me so rudely. But I tried to understand the wife's concern. Her husband was spending the night at work, a decision that had clearly upset her.

As I recovered from the shock, I decided to check on the progress of the task assigned to her husband. When I approached him, he declared enthusiastically, "Not yet completed, but don't worry, Madam. Hum honge kamyaab." I urged him to call his wife and reassure her, but he waved it off. It was clear she had already given him a piece of her mind.

Thanks to the dedication and cooperation of my exceptional team in the Dehra Dun branch, we achieved our goal. The branch became the first in the Delhi circle to be fully computerised without a hiccup.

As I reflect upon that night, my heart is filled with immense pride even today for my sincere and committed team at the Dehra Dun branch, who made this daunting task a child's play.

(To be continued...)

*****

69. WHY HIS WINGS WERE CLIPPED? (1998)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

The Highs and Lows of A Woman’s Journey in the Corporate World

CARE: This is Chapter 69 of my book Stress, Success and Everything In-Between. These are individual anecdotes but to understand the professional journey in totality, I would recommend reading the book right from Chapter 01 onwards.

In my room, I heard a screaming female voice from the banking hall. Promptly, I came out and found a frail petite woman shouting furiously at the top of her voice at Deepak, the Fixed Deposits Assistant. The poor man looked highly embarrassed. He was apologizing to her repeatedly, but she would not relent. The Section Incharge also stood there, watching helplessly.

As the head of the branch, I approached her and tried to calm her down, but would she pay any heed to me. She was a local school teacher who had come to collect her Fixed Deposit Receipts. She enquired from the Fixed Deposits Assistant whether the receipts were ready. He smiled courteously and quipped informally, "Yes, of course, Ma'am. I am so scared of you. I wouldn't ever delay your work."  This comment enraged her, and she exploded, "What do you mean you are scared of me? Am I a witch or a demon? How dare you say such things to a customer?"

With great difficulty, I managed to cool her temper and sent her back.

I recalled meeting Deepak, the Fixed Deposits Assistant, for the first time when I had joined the branch. He was a tall young man with a polite demeanour. My predecessor had introduced him as an asset to the branch, and I soon discovered he was right. Deepak handled the Fixed Deposits desk efficiently, and his work was always impeccable. He had a positive outlook, and his colleagues admired his dedication and efficiency.

After the angry customer left, I asked Deepak to come to my room after public hours. I wanted to know what had actually enraged that customer so much as well as to understand the other side of the incident.

At 2pm sharp, Deepak was in my room. He looked embarrassed and crestfallen. Recounting how he was humiliated by that customer, Deepak became emotional and wiped tears from his eyes. He told me he had not intended to be rude to her. He respected her as an older person and a teacher.

I sensed genuineness in what he was saying. To ease his discomfort, I asked him about his background and how he came to work at the bank. He told me he had been a brilliant student and was keen to join the Indian Armed Forces, but his father had not allowed him to do so because he was their only child. Two of his classmates who had joined the Army had become Brigadiers, and he felt a sense of regret that he could not follow his dream. I asked him why he did not appear for promotion tests. I was surprised to hear that his father did not allow him because a promotion would entail a transfer and would take him, the only child, away from his parents.

His father was the Principal of a prestigious school. They owned a sprawling bungalow. Deepak was a member of the Doon Club and owned a big car. But there was nothing to look forward to in his professional life. He missed personal growth and the related satisfaction.

I was awestruck by the sacrifices the poor man had made for his family and how his father controlled his life. It was apparent Deepak had great potential and could have excelled in any career he would have chosen. But his father's fear of losing his only child held him back from moving upwards in life.

As Deepak left my office, I wondered how complex the human mind is. Was it the love and attachment of a father for his son? Was it genuine concern for his son's safety and well-being? Or was it his selfishness to be near his son in one's old age without disturbing his own existence?  And what did it say about our society where the parents felt they had the right to control their children's lives in this autocratic fashion, ignoring their personal growth and aspirations? Whatever be the reason, it was his own father who had clipped the wings of this brilliant young man.

(To be continued....)

*****

68. HR INITIATIVE GOES HIC... HIC...! (1998)

 STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN 

The Highs and Lows of A Woman’s Journey in the Corporate World

CARE: This is Chapter 68 of my book Stress, Success and Everything In-Between. These are individual anecdotes but to understand the professional journey in totality, I would recommend reading the book right from Chapter 01 onwards.

It was like a scene straight out of a wacky sitcom. The clock had struck seven, and the sprawling bank premises were eerily quiet, with only a handful of officers scattered here and there concentrating on their last-minute jobs. I was getting ready to pack up and head home when I suddenly heard someone yelling incoherently. It sounded like a wild animal who had escaped from its natural habitat! Curious, I stepped out of the office room to investigate.

And there he was - the Bank Guard on duty, stumbling down the staircase like a newborn giraffe, except he wasn't cute or cuddly. He was totally sloshed! To make matters worse, he was clutching a loaded gun like it was his favourite toy. I knew I had to act fast and asked the other guards to disarm him quickly.

I learnt it was not the first time our drunkard friend had behaved this way. He had had a history of similar drama on the job. After getting him disarmed, I sent a staffer to escort him home before he turned the staircase into his personal Slip 'N Slide with indiscreet fireworks from his gun.

That evening, instead of taking disciplinary action against him for drinking while on duty, I thought of some HR intervention. Next day, I asked an officer to counsel him followed by a small talk on the harm alcoholism could have caused to him and his family. He stood there like a statue without any response or reaction, much to my chagrin. Next day, I asked a local officer to visit his house and talk to his wife to enlist her help for stopping him from excessive drinking. But boy, was I in for a surprise! 

The officer visited the Guard's house, after office hours, to talk to his wife but was shocked to find that the wife was in a worse state than the husband. He reported that the Guard could at least speak but his wife was totally drunk, dhutt as they say in Hindi. She could not even sit up or utter a word properly. In fact, getting tipsy was a family tradition passed down through generations of the hill tribe they belonged to, he further shared.

I hit my forehead with my hand. How do I implement HR measures when everyone in the family drank like a fish? Should I try to teach a fish to ride a bicycle? 

(To be continued...)

*****