Category: Ad Campaigns

“It has to be spread out, the skin of this planet, Has to be ironed, the sea in its whiteness;
And the hands keep on moving, smoothing the holy surfaces.”-Pablo Neruda

But why then is its skin withering day by day?Why is the crease not fading away?
Why are those hands not smoothing planet Earth? Why are the holy surfaces gathering anger and wrath?

Stop playing with planet earth….

Stop it. And this is what Cell 18‘s new public service ad (PSA) fights to state. Want a proof – look out for the punch line: Stop playing with planet earth.

In the film we see two boys playing table tennis ruthlessly, retaliating to each other‘s serve more insensitively and brutally, both fuming with anger. Then suddenly we see the ball transforming into earth and the film ends with a super – stop playing with planet earth.

Review: A clever idea and a classy execution. Conceptualized and directed by Network18 network creative director Zubin Driver, this PSA is undoubtedly class apart. Also, by building and executing its theme around a game like table tennis, Cell 18 has only enhanced the provoking spirit of the ad.

“We chose table tennis because one, it‘s a much understated sport and also we realized that no other sport would reveal the passion as well as this one did,” says Driver.

Another aspect of the ad which demands recognition is the music. Its that first thing of TVC that can take anyone‘s breath away. Its absolutely mesmerising, beautifully captivating.

The music is charming, tribal, mystical and primitive…just like our planet earth. But along with that there is also a gush of power flowing through it.

On a whole, the ad remains absolutely true to its spirit. It is not only original in idea but also in its execution.

Ad Pick believes that Cell 18‘s new TVC is immensely cerebral and sets one thinking. Also it does not leave behind an inch of confusion behind. A crystal clear ad with crystal clear thought.

An absolute unpretentious approach to the message… and a direct delivery of thought to the target group.

Three cheers to all.

Agency: Cell 18
Production house: Cell 18
Running time: 30 seconds
ITV rating: * * * * *

 

It‘s a quirky world full of inscrutable clients, unrealistic deadlines and unpredictable bursts of energy, advertising is.
Presenting tongue-in-cheek peeks at life in media as it exists in India. We would also welcome such and similar thoughts that you would like to see featured in this column. Feel free to pen in your own take to admadworld@indiantelevision.com    

   .By VINAY KANCHAN

Matchday: An event when the men in blue walk out to defend the pride of the nation. However, the effects on the economy are far less inspiring for this is an occasion where the balance working class finds a minefield of avenues to discover more “legitimate” reasons to indulge in our favourite corporate sport – the art of hurdling deadlines.

“Today is the day of the match, deadlines you will find extremely hard to catch.”

The hushed oriental tone, the express delivery of the tea cup in Ram‘s hand and the disappearance of Chai-La (the mystical Chinese canteen boy) along the seam of the cricket ball on the conference room table and the ensuing turbulence that caused a slight “in swing” of sorts set the ball in motion. Vikas, as always, being one to pride himself on “being on the ball,” grabbed it with alacrity, and gently thumped it on the table diverting all eyes in the room his way.

“What were you saying Dharti?” he enquired of the strategic planning head of the agency, a woman whose intellectual and aesthetic content demanded undivided attention in most cases.

Dharti, who usually indulged Vikas‘s charm (for some strange reason), was clearly a little strained. Her beautiful eyes radiated an anger that Ram found quite mesmerising.

“What does it matter? I have been repeating myself hoarse over the last thirty minutes, and I might as well have been talking about Vedic virtues to men wandering in a strip joint. Where are your minds? We are gathered here to create a crises ad for Mr Bose‘s new product launch tomorrow and all you men seem to be in a different galaxy. Really, Mr Bose, I am surprised at your lack of interest as well.”

Mr Bose seemed oblivious of the allegations thrown his way. His eyes were transfixed elsewhere, as were Vikas‘ and PP‘s (the creative director of the outrageous moustache fame). Even the normally erudite Planimus (the gladiatorial media planning head) was replicating the involvement pattern of a three-year old child learning the alphabet in class when there is an ice cream vendor displaying his fares outside the window.

Then, as most males would testify, sometimes reflex just takes over and in one such “reflexive” moment, for reasons most of those blessed with the Y chromosome can never quite articulate, Ram picked up the remote lying near him and switched on the TV.

Immediately, the men in the room uttered a grunt of such frenetic ecstasy that companies that made products in the area of sexual gratification instantly perked up their ears.

“Today, Dada will show them,” began Mr Bose.

“Yeah, but we need to keep tabs on the run rate at all times,” boomed PP, twirling his whiskers upwards in a moment of national pride.

“And we need a good opening stand,” started Planimus.

“You know we have won 75 per cent of the time against this opposition when we bat first, and of that percentage nearly 90 per cent comes when we defend under lights.”

That was Vikas, espousing statistics in a manner which was quite unlike him and made him look like a completely different person, though Ram more readily attributed that to the ridiculous haircut that his boss had just undergone a few days earlier.

Dharti grabbed the remote and shot a reprimanding look in Ram‘s direction that made his heart sink to the abysmal depths of the intellectual content of a typical coffee chat show.

“You can‘t remember there is a launch tomorrow and yet you can rattle off inconsequential numbers that have no relevance to your life whatsoever,” she began, in a rare case of taking off on Vikas.

Vikas shot back an extremely pained look her way, like a puppy that was being told off for chasing his favourite bone (ok any bone).

“No, no, he has said something that is really important,” interjected PP, to the astonishment of everyone in the room, even the trophy statues that were turned to look his way, because this was a rare event.

PP supported Vikas about as frequently as top stars accepting their trophies in Bollywood award functions rendered their thanksgiving speeches in Hindi.

“What?” began a stunned Dharti, echoing everyone‘s feelings, when something happened on the TV screen that caused the room to erupt in a passionate frenzy.

“That was a bad decision.”

“This entire series is fixed.”

“This is all a part of their mind game strategy, everyone is involved. But if we rebuild, there is still time to turn the match.”

Women are gifted with immense clarity at all such moments. Being a top specimen of her representative species (from the male perspective), Dharti turned off the TV at that instant.
(The expletives that followed have been censored by the editor.)

“When the match takes a critical turn, all will recede in importance, you will learn.”

The cup of tea with the wise conundrum again were transported Ram‘s way, courtesy Chai-La, even as he ‘disnumbered‘ into the statistics chart of the next batsmen coming in, for Vikas had aggressively pulled back the remote and switched on the TV again.

“We need to probably borrow a few ideas from watching the match. Maybe, there will be a spark which will happen as we watch India combat a difficult position.”

“What if they fail?” asked Dharti with clinical clarity.

“Then we simply can‘t think today,” shot PP with such emphasis that the batsman on the screen actually left the next ball alone.

“Mr Bose, what do you think of the situation?” asked Dharti in an increasingly incredulous tone.

Mr Bose‘s eyes were watching the TV screen with unwavering focus. “It‘s too tight to call right now, maybe if we see off the next five overs.”

Dharti planted herself in front of the TV screen, as a roar of dissent went across the room.

“Mr Bose, I was asking what your opinion was given that your launch is tomorrow and that your agency team needs to concentrate on the match for inspiration.”

Mr Bose jockeyed for position, squirming in his chair so that he could see beyond Dharti, given his size it was a bit like watching a hippopotamus try the lambada.

“Ah!” he began and then someone hit a boundary.

All the men in the room exchanged high fives and bonded like they had been life-long friends who had just simultaneously won the state lottery.

“You never bowl to him there, 73 per cent of the time he will flash and flash safely. And when he swings his bat, he usually makes contact 82 per cent of the time, so it‘s a near sure boundary,” commented Vikas with mathematical magnanimity.

PP and Planimus shot looks of brotherly affection his way (I repeat, PP and Planimus). Even Mr Bose acknowledged his expertise with an indulgent grunt.

Dharti tried to call the house to order throwing her own statistic into the mix.

“If we continue like this we are 100 per cent likely to miss the deadline.”

That brought a few murmurs amongst the men. They huddled together and whispered words like secret passwords.

PP rose from the huddle. “It is decided. We four will work in here and use the match as a springboard for ideation whereas you and Ram can work in the other conference room. Just look at all the past work and you can conceptualise a few ads; it should be simple really.”

“And what if nothing we create is good enough or rings true with the consumer, or is relevant to the current situation?” enquired a feisty Dharti.

“Then…,” began Vikas.

“Then we will postpone the launch,” ended Mr Bose without taking his eyes off the TV screen. “Now let‘s begin work, we need to watch this next over very closely.”

Dharti stormed out of the room like a departing hurricane (yeah they are all named after women, aren‘t they?)

“I am not going to lift another finger on this project. Just send the underling to me with what he has conjured up, any case I know we will be working on it tomorrow.”

Vikas made a trademark gesture with his eyes which Ram so hated. It said “time to step out and work”; all the others merely waved sympathetic hands in his direction. Any guy leaving the room with the match interestingly poised deserved sympathy.

As he left the room, he could hear liberal advice being dispensed the batsmen‘s way. “Play with a little more responsibility, you fool” was one such volley.”

Ram smiled to himself as he entered the adjoining conference room and began pulling out old ads from the archives.
“Don‘t expect tea easily today because I want to see the match will go which way.”

For once the tea cup was empty and Ram watched forlornly as Chai-La disappeared through the key hole into the conference room with the TV.

The writer is an idependent strategic & ideation consultant. He is also the patron saint of Juhu Beach United, a football club that celebrates the “unfit, out of breath media professional of today.” You can write to him at (vinaykanchan@hotmail.com).

(The views expressed here are those of the author and Indiantelevision.com need not necessarily subscribe to the same)

The flash committers – a tribe usually found in the upper echelons of the corporate world. These people instantly commit timelines and deliverables with the earnestness of a quiz participant in a buzzer round, promptly assume that their task has been gallantly done and then recede into the background, leaving the innocent bystanders to battle the impossible odds of fulfilment. “The act of commitment is all about reckless thought, as rarely if at all is the concerned opinion sought.” The hushed words of wisdom, the express delivery of the tea cup and Chai-La (the mystical Chinese canteen boy) had disintegrated into a graph of the falling sensex on the paper on conference room table. Ram sipped the warm brew and once again pondered about the riddle that was residual with the tea cup. He glanced around the room. Vikas (his boss), PP (the creative director), Dharti (the strategic planning head) and Planimus (the gladiatorial media planning chief) were present from the agency team. There was the new client Ms. Taut n Firm, the visionary proprietor of the business that the agency had recently acquired. Her company was in the business of making products of a curious nature that no one quite knew enough about. But that being said, there was more to Ms. Taut n Firm than met the eye, though what met the eye was certainly impressive. She was wondrously endowed with all the virtues that men of low moral fibre usually appreciate. But as philosophers would venture to eloquently espouse (if someone actually troubled them by asking) where her strength really was in what lay between her ears. Blessed with a razor sharp mind and a feisty animal-like cunning, she made news regularly on both the business and the socialite pages. Her company had a lot of suitors even though what it exactly did remained strangely elusive. The meeting was about how the relationship between the new client and agency would function, what would be the deliverables involved, an allocation of responsibilities and an introduction to the people whose lives would generally be more miserable as a result of the additional burden being thrown their way. Ms. Taut n Firm cast a condescending look across the room, like a great white shark indulging its prey a little bit before dinner. She knew that she needed this motley bunch to deliver whatever she wanted in double quick time with few questions asked. She moved a trained eye across her adversaries. PP would be difficult no doubt, so would Planimus and Dharti; she distinctly picked a “hostile vixen vibe” from the latter. The underling would be insignificant, though she was amazed how the tea cup had suddenly materialised in his hand. Her eyes finally rested on the dapper and suave head of Vikas who was busy trying to adjust his tie in his reflection on the glass of water on the table. Her gaze caught his eyes and a “moment” happened. Dharti distinctly felt a pang of jealousy surge through her veins. Vikas beamed back at Ms. Taut n Firm with the eagerness of a school child eager to please his favourite teacher. Ms. Taut n Firm smiled back with mesmeric charm. But her astute brain had already decoded Vikas‘s DNA and classified him as a species whose essential thought process emanated waist downwards. “So Vikas, how do we begin this?” she enquired with an icy allure that walked the tightrope between dictatorial lenience and coquettish promise. “You tell us. We usually over deliver on client expectations,” quipped back Vikas, sporting a grin that he hoped was making his teeth have that trademark sparkle. The groans that resounded across the room were almost “philharmonic.” Many kicks were launched under the table but Vikas, having encountered much pain in the past from those quarters, adroitly swayed his legs and avoided them. “Well, I need the agency to devise a business and marketing strategy in 3 days‘ time.” “Done,” he said with such gusto that his momentum shocked his compatriots for a bit, just like how it sometimes takes the implication of a death sentence to sink in before the inevitable emotional outburst ensues. “You must be joking.” Began Dharti, her normally unflappable self clearly doing a lot of flapping right then. “We don‘t even know what business Ms. Taut n Firm is in,” boomed PP upsetting the tender equilibrium of the stationery on the table. Ms. Taut n Firm sensed the rebellion, and knew she had to move through the gears. “The risk of the account moving out gets the leaders‘ sweat glands working, no doubt.” Ram was grateful for the much-needed second cup but still was left stumped by Chai-La‘s pearl of wisdom as the latter departed committing a rather too tight a deadline for the third cup of warm brew. “You know Vikas. My account is in much demand…” Ms. Taut n Firm knew she would not need to complete that sentence. Planimus snorted a retort that sounded like a quasar trying to express itself amidst the cacophony of the cosmos, really harsh on the ear. “No sweat, it will be done,” Vikas quickly cut in, firmly tapping Dharti‘s hand. “And I need the campaign to be shown to me the same day.” “Certainly, it will be done.” PP jumped out of seat like an arch nemesis would on discovering that his well-thought-out master plan to eliminate Bond had failed. “I don‘t even know what the brand is about, we are clueless about the category, and we have absolutely no other information. How can you even commit such deadlines?” “Isn‘t this agency smart enough to generate ideas with very little information? Just think of a generic campaign that could fit at least three categories that seem close in terms of values and consumer expectations and we should be there,” Ms. Taut n Firm cooed back, her beautiful eyes locked on Vikas and no one else. Apparently, some snakes have a hypnotic effect on their prey; Ram was witnessing the same phenomena though not on the same scale (pun intended) “Yes it is. We will deliver in three days,” shot back Vikas PP stormed out of the room and exploded in a flurry of expletives that threatened to strain the very fabric of society, kicking everything that came his way as he left the room. Ram just briefly glanced behind in the window to see some young airborne trainees. “And finally I need a complete media strategy and budget recommendation on that day as well,” Ms. Taut n Firm ordered, toying with a little paperweight on the table. “What choice do you have? You may as well commit without understanding the basics of what will be needed to do such an exercise. Actually knowing what we are doing all this for is not a bad thing you know; it does put a perspective on things.” That was Planimus in his most vintage sarcastic tone. “All fixed for the next meeting in three days‘ time,” said Vikas still staring into Ms. Taut n Firm‘s eyes as though he could never look away. Dharti and Planimus exited the room shaking their heads, their morale and disposition obviously having seen better days. “That‘s it then, see you,” said Miss Taut n Firm. She snapped her fingers in front of Vikas‘s face and then glided out of the room as if she were on skates. Vikas blinked his eyes briefly and then puffed his chest out a bit. “See chief and savour, how I prevented the account from moving out. How I controlled the situation and won back client respect and faith. See and learn, I hope you take notes about my performance at such forums; it will help you in the future. How can you ever thank me enough for such learning experiences?” Ram stared hard at Vikas. There was no doubt that he actually believed what he had just said. “How are we going to meet those deadlines?” he asked with typical focus. “Don‘t bother me with these mundane things; I am flying out for three days on matters of a secret nature for the company. I could tell you but would have to kill you after that, so see you at the next meeting in three days and all the deliverables are your responsibility from here on. After all, how much more can I do?” Vikas vanished with a dexterity (and a contented chuckle) that was honed over the years. “Setting a deadline is not that tough, when it‘s not you who is going to face the rough.” The maniacal giggle, the express delivery of the tea cup (5 minutes later than promised) and Chai-La dissolved into the impending gloom of the day. For once Ram fully understood what he meant. The writer is Vice President, Rediffusion DY&R. He is also the patron saint of Juhu Beach United, a football club that celebrates the “unfit, out of breath media professional of today.” You can write to him at (vinaykanchan@hotmail.com). (The views expressed here are those of the author and Indiantelevision.com need not necessarily subscribe to the same)

By VINAY KANCHAN

It was a wretched Saturday morning. Well, to be fair the weather was in top form, but almost the entire agency had been dragged out of their ‘sacred sanctum‘ of a Saturday morning nap to the office conference room at 9am sharp, for a vision workshop.Considering that Saturday was a holiday and what that session further entailed, wretched was a fair adjective in most minds for the morning, except in that of one man.

The President stood to his full, impressive stature and looked around. The conference room was capacious enough to accommodate the thirty odd people that constituted the agency. His face had the triumphant smirk of being oblivious to the feeling of working early morning on a holiday, a smirk quite exclusive to him.

He cleared his throat in a manner to subtly indicate that it was time to wake up. After he was satisfied that enough bleary eyes were looking his way, he began.

“Today we are here to discuss what our vision should be?” he began in his best baritone, “Does anybody know what a vision is?”

“That‘s difficult considering most of the eyes in this room are closed,” a wickedly satirical voice whispered in Ram‘s and Tanya‘s ears. That was the old cynical hand, the unfettered bastion of depressed thinking in the agency. Tanya giggled, but Ram tried his best not to acknowledge the jibe, though mentally he kicked himself for passing up on such an opportunity to make Tanya smile.

All the other participants in the room furtively looked away from the President trying to avoid eye contact. Vikas (Ram‘s boss) however thrived on these questions. He looked around the room in an extremely condescending manner, and then paused to muster enough contempt before speaking.

“A vision workshop is a place, where blindingly obvious clichés will emanate from every face,” the hushed Chinese accent whispering those wise words in Ram Shankar‘s ears, the express delivery of the tea cup and Chai-La, the mystical Chinese canteen boy had vanished into the early rays of sunshine peeking through the windows.

Having gathered all the necessary ingredients Vikas let fly. “A vision is an inspiring clarion call that an organisation crafts for itself, that not only gives it a larger cause for existence, but also motivates its employees to work towards a greater purpose…”

As usual when Vikas volunteered to trouble the air waves, PP (the creative director of the ridiculously exaggerated moustache fame) was seldom left far behind.

“What rubbish, I think you referred to the wrong textbook.”
He said, incisively cutting through all of Vikas‘s carefully crafted remarks, and generally waking up most of the room with his resounding guffaw that followed. The others joined in the mirth, considering that it was at Vikas‘s expense.

“Well PP, he is right that‘s what it is in some respects.” Interjected Dharti, the agency‘s curvaceously crafted account planning head, her eyes briefly met Vikas‘s and Ram detected a ‘moment‘ there.

“Today we work as a team guys,” boomed the President thumping the table, causing all the tea cups on it severe psychological problems.

Both Vikas and PP clammed up for the moment.

“We need something that will inspire us going forward.” Started the President

“Considering that we have been going backward for so long that‘s a start.” The soft voice ‘customised for two‘ of the old cynical hand. Tanya giggled again much to Ram‘s chagrin.

“Well what are the numbers involved going forward? What are our top line and bottom line deliverables over the next five years, what are the increases in the sources of revenue that we are seeking?” that was Planimus (the media planning head), obsessed with numbers with a passion that had caused three divorces at last count.

There was a groan from the entire room, none louder than that originating from the President.

“Planimus, a vision ideally has very little to do with numbers. Tom Peters said so.”

“Consultants I tell you, all they want are discussions that will be long, inconclusive and subject to ‘feelings and such‘, so that they can churn up colossal bills. That is why we mustn‘t waste too much discussing these things, something which cannot be quantified can never be justified,” quipped Planimus and resigned to silent participation for the rest of the session, in a spirit of unresolved mathematical enquiry.

“Had he kept his eye on the right figures, he would have had a better social life,” the old cynical hands vicious jibe had Tanya giggling again.

“Let‘s use a technique that I learnt abroad,” ventured Dharti, pausing for just the right time on ‘abroad‘, “let‘s throw in some desirable words that we might want to own as a company. And then let‘s try and articulate a vision from thereon.”

Since there were no other constructive suggestions the audience was forced to volunteer their inputs, and with the hope of ending the ordeal soonest people began participating lustily.

“Teamwork,” began Vikas, to the tune of PP‘s snicker.

“Goal” offered Dharti.

“Empower” added the President.

“Process orientation,” offered the IT head.

“World peace,” began Tanya and was silenced by the incredulous expressions that she sampled across the table.
“Award winning work,” shot PP.

“Now I believe we are getting somewhere,” said the President, and with the enthusiasm of a young boy chancing upon his first ‘girlie‘ magazine, he wrote the key words on the board and then kept drawing circles around them, large concentric circles, round and round he drew them with a fury that was quite disconcerting.

“Sir, what are you doing?” asked Vikas, for once of behalf of others as well.

“I once heard somewhere that these words will come full circle and your vision statement will materialise before you, everybody repeat my actions, we need to crack this.”

With rather amused expressions everyone else followed suit and for a while silence followed, as people were mesmerised by their own creations, as it is said circles have a nice way of (be) coming round.

“Don‘t get trapped in the geometry of the page, for enlightenment give in to your rage,” the whispered conundrum, the express delivery of the tea cup and Chai-La had disintegrated into the angry frown of Planimus who was agitated because his circles were not to scale.

Ram felt a slight undercurrent of anger about missing a nice leisurely holiday morning and the futility of the whole exercise. ‘Weren‘t vision statements lines anyway?‘ he thought to himself and lined up the guilty words in a linear fashion, rather than a circle, and then it dawned.

“We, as an agency believe in the process of greater teamwork which orients us towards our goal of creating award winning work.” He had started the statement when murmurs were on in the room, by the time he finished there was dead silence.

The President‘s beam almost blinded Ram.

“That is fantastic, a young employee should be the person creating future vision anyway and it sounds so right. What do you people feel?”

There were grudging looks of admiration across the room. Tanya‘s jaw had dropped beyond the confines of her face. She was looking at Ram with doting eyes.

“Isn‘t that really more like a mission statement?” doubted Vikas

“It‘s a vision statement, if he is happy with it. He has to decide,” Concluded the President emphatically, “What do you feel Ram, what would your ideal statement be?”

There was an awed silence in the room.

Ram was toying with the right words in his mind when the old cynical hand whispered in his ear, “completely change it, and show him your thinking capability once and for all. You won‘t get chances like this all the time. The loftier sounding the statement, the higher your career graph will soar.”

There was an awed silence in the room.

“I would want to change it going forward,” began Ram, as expressions around him deepened with interest. “My version of the vision would be, to create an organisation that ceaselessly adds value to the economy without needing to replenish any of its resources.”

The look of awe lingered a bit longer on the faces of the audience. But the President‘s expression changed colour to an agitated purple.

“No. No. No. It does not have the same zip as the previous one. And now that you have told me this one, I somehow feel the previous one lacks something. We will have to reconvene next Saturday morning again, same time. We are back to square one.”

There were groans in abundance all across the room, though Ram felt that he distinctly heard the old cynical hands trademark snicker above all that.

“One thing I liked about what you said was people working harder for the organisation; I think we must factor that in somewhere. Ok adios people, try and salvage the weekend.” And the President was gone before people could offer any audio bytes in protest.

Ram felt thirty dark looks rest on him as people exited the room. None darker than the one Tanya threw his way. It seemed to eclipse the entire day.

Ram head sank to an all time low on the table, he felt the familiar tea cup nestle in his hand again, and the even more familiar voice in his ear.

“Be particular about whose advice you take, because many a time the person‘s intentions are fake.”

With a kindly chuckle, Chai-La disintegrated along the concentric circles on the board, spinning round and round, till Ram felt a sense of nausea creep in, and his eyes gently close.

The writer is Vice President, Rediffusion DY&R. He is also the patron saint of Juhu Beach United, a football club that celebrates the ‘unfit, out of breath media professional of today‘. You can write to him at (vinaykanchan@hotmail.com).

(The views expressed here are those of the author and Indiantelevision.com need not necessarily subscribe to the same)

The client, Mr. C. R. Yadav (popularly called Mr. CRY within the agency), paused as he gathered his thoughts in the agency conference room. There were a few apprehensions that he felt, namely because this was the sixth time in seven months that he was being introduced to a new team to handle his business. .

Vikas, sat poised at the other end of the table, briefly dwelling on his customary ritual of adjusting the alignment of his tie, in the glasses of the person immediately in front. That was doing little to alleviate the discomfort that Mr. CRY was already feeling.

To Vikas‘s right sat a rather formal looking chap, sporting a thin pencil like moustache and a generous paunch. There were a few white strands of hair randomly sprinkled across his head. Vikas had introduced him as Shyam, the new account supervisor on the business.

“His junior Ram, is presently away at another client meeting. But these two will be taking care of your business. They are the best team we have and I‘m sure they will not disappoint you. I, of course will interject from time to time to help them when it comes to overall brand strategy and vision, but these are the necks you need to catch daily.” Vikas ended with a calculated chuckle, uttered to connote that he had a sense of humor and that he was not to be bothered with mere operational things. Mr. CRY was humorless (one of the basic reasons for his name).

“I have heard the same words many times before. In fact six to be precise, and somehow all the people who work on my business always seem to magically disappear and I‘m left with completely new people about whom I‘m rather unsure how much time to invest in, because I‘m sure they will be on their way as well shortly.”

Mr. CRY wiped an exasperated brow with his handkerchief feeling a touch better after having vented some of his frustration; the same could not have been said about the handkerchief. It bore tell tale scars of a long and sordid tale.

“The client‘s tale of woe is always about the average Joe.” The hushed oriental tone unraveled a conundrum of wisdom in Shyam‘s ears and Chai-La (the mystical Chinese canteen boy) had express delivered the tea cup in Shyam‘s hands and vanished among the furrows of doubt that were being formed on Mr. CRY‘s forehead.Mr. CRY though, was momentarily astonished with the speed with which the tea cup appeared in Shyam‘s hands, but put it down to an ‘out of the world, in house, catering service‘, which wasn‘t very far from the truth.“And if they are a team then why isn‘t the junior guy over here? This is out first meeting and I wanted to speak with both of them together.”“Don‘t worry Sir; I will completely debrief him on our meeting. We almost work as one and there should be no issues of coordination at all.” Those words were the first that Shyam had uttered since the meeting had started. His voice was curiously muffled and was like something from some famous movie which one couldn‘t immediately place.Mr. CRY‘s eyes shone like there was suddenly and unexpectedly, Angelina (sans the Pitt) somewhere on a not so distant horizon. “That is what I have wanted to hear from a long time, because so many times the two members of my account team are utterly confused. One does not know what the other is doing and that makes me want to tear my hair out.”

“You can‘t even imagine how these two guys think alike. Coordination between them will never be an issue on the account. I can guarantee that,” said Vikas thumping the table with some amount of emphasis, frightening all the data bits on Mr. CRY‘s laptop. He flashed a mysteriously mocking smile at Shyam, that had Shyam not known otherwise, could have been interpreted as obscene.

PP, the creative director of the handlebar moustache fame, popped his head into the conference room and his face distorted into a momentary display of unfettered anguish when he glimpsed Mr. CRY.“Ah! How have you been sir?”“Not very well, thanks to the way you fellows are treating my account. I see so many people in creative leave that there is no consistency in the creative product. At least Vikas has assured me that the servicing problem has been solved with Shyam taking charge of the account. I hope to see a similar solution on the creative front as well” said Mr. CRY looking at Shyam with almost paternal affection.

PP diverted his gaze to Shyam and for a moment Shyam and Vikas actually thought they saw his moustache jump. But he quickly regained his composure before other untrained eyes could detect anything amiss.“Welcome on board Shyam. Hope you are able bring stability to the account.” He concluded, feeling a dire need to leave the room, as there was a tremendous backlog of mirth that was building in his system, and he needed to purge that instantly to survive. “I want a similar solution on the creative front PP.”

“I will handle it sir, but trust me you don‘t want a SIMILAR solution,” quipped PP as Vikas angrily began tapping his fingers on the table. “I will call you and tell you who I will put on your business on a permanent basis, got to go now,” concluded PP as his head vanished from behind the door.A huge explosion of sound followed. Like all the elephants in the word in a rare and not to be repeated moment of synergy had chosen to blow their noses at the same time.Mr. CRY cowered in his chair in alarm. Vikas patted his hand in a sagely manner.“That‘s only PP, he probably understood the joke I told him two weeks back,” vintage Vikas, covering his tracks, as well as using the same opportunity to run down his arch nemesis.“Shyam now has to leave for another client meeting, but Ram has just messaged me that he will be here in five minutes. So don‘t worry we can continue when he arrives.”Shyam solemnly shook hands with Mr. CRY (curiously limp handshake) and staggered out of the room.He made straight for the men‘s room, pausing briefly to exchange smiles with PP and his team who were rolling on the ground with laughter.

Entering the cloakroom he looked at himself in the mirror. Spat out the two pieces of chewing gum that he had in his mouth, changed the tie, tucked in his paunch to the extent that was humanly possible, washed off the white strands from his hair and erased his pencil thin moustache. Then he put on his spectacles, God, he had been hardly able to see anything in the meeting. And Ram Shankar stood in front of the mirror.His mind went back to the previous day‘s conversation with Vikas.“Look chief we need to put two people on this account, it‘s in a deep mess. Everyone on it has left over the past seven months. I don‘t have any new people so you have to manage. We need a person your level and one immediate boss, say a supervisor.”“What about my boss?”There was an evil glint in Vikas‘s eyes.“There is a DVD of Golmaal in the library, watch it intently tonight. Also study the Godfather accent. I want to be able to mimic that for tomorrow. You are going to be your own boss.” Vikas ended with a high pitched sinister cackle

“How can I do this? It‘s so wrong. Aren‘t we being unfair to the client?”“Unconfirmed account executives never ask questions, they only execute.” And that had been the final word on the issue.Ram strolled back into the conference room. Face and hair cleanly washed, however conscience is an altogether different issue. “And here is our account executive Ram,” said Vikas.
Ram engaged in a ferociously firm handshake with Mr. CRY who was left silently yelping as his hand had been conditioned for softer things by Shyam.“You really look familiar,” began Mr. CRY. “In fact a lot like Shyam, just younger. Are you related?”The question was tricky and needed instant contemplation.

“To cover a single lie, one has to utter a thousand before you die,” the hushed Chinese tone in Ram‘s ear indicated Chai-La‘s presence as did the tea cup which materialized in Ram‘s hands out of nowhere.Mr. CRY gasped, “Even Shyam produced a tea cup from nowhere a few minutes ago, you guys must teach me that trick when you meet me together the next time.”

Ram hurriedly looked round for Vikas, But like all good bosses he had excused himself from the scene long before trouble came knocking,“It‘s like this sir, Shyam is my elder brother. But we don‘t really see eye to eye, which is why even though we can work wonderfully well together, it is impossible because of family reasons for both of us to ever be in the same room….”

As he was mouthing these words, Ram realized that this would be the longest meeting of his life.

The writer is Vice President, Rediffusion DY&R. He is also the patron saint of Juhu Beach United, a football club that celebrates the ‘unfit, out of breath media professional of today‘. You can write to him at (vinaykanchan@hotmail.com).

(The views expressed here are those of the author and Indiantelevision.com need not necessarily subscribe to the same)

Job-definition – people in the corporate world, especially those at relatively senior levels are never really certain where the scope of their job ends (the infamous ‘thin red line‘). This insecurity leads to bosses increasingly interfering with the work of their subordinates, leading to a complete duplication of effort, which if viewed with an opportunistic eye can give rise to some quite interesting consequences.(Case in point- I have been only able to complete this column, because my boss is still ticking off items on my joblist)

“Man, she really gets on my nerves,” said Neha, the exasperated account executive as she collapsed on a chair next to Ram. Ram was right in the middle of pretending to be busy and so he found the intrusion pleasantly welcoming. Besides he had always wanted to speak to Neha but had never sighted an opening thus far.“Who does?” asked Ram, trying to sound casually nonchalant, while fervently hoping that Neha would be oblivious that his heart had just done a triple summersault and landed back in his chest cavity, albeit beating a touch faster. He needed tea badly.“The life of a person with an intrusive boss is unquestionably something that is an irrevocable loss,” the hushed Chinese accent, the express delivery of the teacup and Chai-La, the mystical canteen boy, had disintegrated into a series of regrets.

Neha was so self-absorbed that she failed to notice how the teacup had magically appeared in Ram‘s hands; she felt a slight turbulence in the air but cursorily attributed it to her charged personality. She returned to Ram‘s previous question.“My boss Sunetra, she just has been on my case every day this week”“Why? Is she a lawyer?” questioned Ram, through sheer force of habit.“What?” asked Neha in a manner that seemed to cue the interaction would be short lived.“You know, case and all that,” replied Ram, tentatively, not knowing if the explanation was warranted.Neha burst into a slight giggle that instantly lifted Ram‘s spirits.“Oh, I needed that,” she said. “Why don‘t we go down for some coffee?”Ram hated coffee, especially at those ‘café‘s‘. But opportunity never knocks twice.In ten minutes they were sitting at the café across the street.

“She questions me on every little thing, she wants to be involved in every small detail, and half the time she ends up doing the job herself. I think she even wants to control when I go to the rest room, this is driving me nuts?”“Oh! she has no concept of the ‘thin red line‘?”“What was that?”“Never mind, just something that divides what your boss should do from what you should; it probably is a fictional concept today. Anyway go on.”“What‘s there to go on, that‘s my sad story. How does your boss treat you?”In all this time, Ram had never felt any fondness for Vikas, but just then Vikas seemed a great boss to have. Before Ram could suppress it, his chest inflated with pride.

“Well, he doesn‘t really care. He lets me do my own thing. So much so that sometimes I wish he interfered a little more. I have complete freedom and ownership for all my actions.” Ram answered, realizing even as he mouthed those words that he was endowing Vikas with a rare version of corporate divinity.”He sounds so cool, you work with Vikas right? He is such a rock star.”

“Well I wouldn‘t go that far, even that style of working can lead to heartaches sometimes,” then wanting to get the topic off Vikas he asked,” so how do you handle Sunetra?”, reflecting on the spot of jealousy that had gone through his system when Neha‘s eyes sparkled as she had spoken of Vikas.“I really can‘t” said Neha touching Ram‘s arm, sending tiny freckles of electricity up his spine. “Can you advise me?”

“Hmm,” began Ram, touching his chin tenderly, hoping his mannerisms were causing an escalation in his perceived intelligence levels. “Why don‘t you look at the situation optimistically? You are getting your jobs done anyway. Just flow with the tide and don‘t take any stress and every day at office can be like a paid holiday. She ends up doing all the work, doesn‘t she?”

Neha looked at Ram in the manner that a stunned audience would have if Hitler had ever said during one of his effusive diatribes that the Jews were cool.“You have no idea what it is like to work under her. What are you saying?” she began as tears started to roll.
Ram held her hand and said in his most confident tone, “Just try it Neha, what have you got to lose?”The next day Ram kept his ears open as he heard what was happening in the adjacent cubicles, where Sunetra and Neha used to have their meetings.Even across the fortifications of his own cubicle he could sense that Sunetra was not one you could share a joke with. The words ‘seriously somber‘ sprang to mind.“Have you checked with the studio on the status of the artworks?”“No, I was doing other things.”“Ha, never mind I have done that already and they will be ready by seven.”“What about the quotes on the film?”“I went to the films department but they were away at a shoot.”“But I called them; they all have mobiles, don‘t they? And the quotes should be in tomorrow. What about the research boards for the focus groups?”Ram could almost picture Neha stretching out like a cat, suppressing a slight yawn, and languidly running her fingers through her hair.

“I tried telling PP, but you know he has issues talking to juniors, he is so hierarchy conscious. I think it will be best if you brief him.”“Yes I will, I will ensure he delivers, how dare he delay work,” roared Sunetra and muttered some utterly unladylike things about PP.

“And Sunetra since you will have all the deadlines clear in your mind, could you also please mail the daily status to client?”“Yes, once I‘m done with PP, the artworks plus the quotes, and I have made all the concerned peoples lives miserable, I will do that,” said Sunetra storming off accompanied by mayhem and a gloomy looking cloud that always seemed to lurk above her.Neha popped her head over the cubicle, her face radiating happiness.

“This is great. I‘m glad we had that conversation yesterday. I have absolutely nothing to do; she is doing all my work. I‘m actually changing my ring tone to ‘Money for nothing‘”
Ram‘s expression was a heroic effort to conceal his disappointment, as he was going to come up with that very same wisecrack. He felt robbed of his moment of glory.“So what do you intend doing for the rest of the day?”

“I don‘t know, I had the whole morning pretty much to myself and so I went and chatted with Vikas, asked him about the ‘thin red line‘ and all that. He replied that it was not lines but rather curves that held his interest. He is such a charmer; we are going out for lunch today. In fact we might even have plans for the evening.”Ram made a note in his mental black book of things that he despised about Vikas. The black book was getting to be a rather copious volume.

The next three days seemed to fly by and he did not see much of Neha at all.On Friday Vikas called him to his room.“Chief,:” he started and then paused to adjust his tie in his reflection in Ram‘s glasses, “You will need to help out Neha on her accounts as well for a while, the poor girl is really buried in loads of work and her boss Sunetra tells me that she herself needs to do lots of operations, so they clearly need help. Obviously nothing suffers on our side, even if I am lending you to that group. I don‘t want to be attending any client calls about delays. I hate being bothered with such things.”

Ram thought about defending his case but with the speed of the Indian batting lineup collapsing, he saw the irony of the whole thing and gave it up.

“I‘m out for a long lunch now,” said Vikas and sauntered out. Ram briefly glimpsed Neha accost Vikas near the elevator and seamlessly attach herself to him.

“Advice liberally dispensed has the trait, of coming back to haunt your own fate,” Ram heard Chai-La‘s words of wisdom, even felt the teacup nestle in his hands but for once was too dejected to observe what kind of an exit the mystical Chinese canteen boy made this time. For the record he simply drew a thin red line and then erupted into a spectrum of points that strove to seek fulfillment along it. And then she blew.Sunetra‘s voice was unkind on the ear even when heard in passing, but now it sounded as mellifluous as a ravenous hyena jumping on hot coals.

“Ram, I want you in my cubicle now, and I mean right now. I want to do a job list meeting. Don‘t forget to get a pad, pen and calculator when you come, and I don‘t want to repeat that again.”Who ever said that June 21st was the longest day?

The writer is Vice President, Rediffusion DY&R. He is also the patron saint of Juhu Beach United, a football club that celebrates the ‘unfit, out of breath media professional of today‘. You can write to him at (vinaykanchan@hotmail.com).

(The views expressed here are those of the author and Indiantelevision.com need not necessarily subscribe to the same)

The brand versus sales debate has raged ever since a not so famous Greek philosopher sub let the empty seats in his ‘platonic posturing‘ classroom to tired travelers who promised to conceal their mirth as he conducted semi nude experiments on the rich and the infamous. Subsequently this laid the foundation for the guesthouse business (the resting of the travelers, not the semi nude stuff), what became of the philosopher is anyone‘s guess.

“And that‘s our campaign, while I must say that we see great advertising coming out of it, I also think it will do wonders in term of increasing brand equity, we will occupy a unique position in the consumers mind.” Concluded PP (the creative director of the exaggerated moustache fame), clearly pleased with the way his presentation had gone.

There was a hushed pause across the table. The marketing head Mr Bose had a rumor of a smile on his face. His subordinate Madhukar Lele (first name, courtesy parents, the second, general public) was typically non-committal, even expressionwise. All eyes rested on the Chairman of the company, Mr Digvijay Sharma (refer ‘Monday Morning Blues‘ in the archive), the doyen of the itching cream industry and the man who had virtually started from scratch, literally, figuratively and metaphorically.

The Chairman had a metallic ear and Ram Shankar always doubted how much of anything he actually heard. He turned a little to face the agency team, the ear clanking along the way.

“In the debate of brand versus sale, it is the brand that must always pale,” the hushed Chinese accent, the express delivery of the tea cup and Chai-La (the mystical Chinese canteen boy) had as always invisibly delivered his early morning tea cup and free consultancy with the quickness of advertisers rushing back to Ganguly, post current events.

“The campaign might be fine, but what will it do for my sales?” enquired the Chairman in his measured tone. Pausing to emphasize every word like he was proof checking them. The agency team did what they did best at such times. They shot bewildered, urgent and enquiring looks furtively at each other. There was PP (described in an earlier bracket), Vikas (the extremely flamboyant account head), Dharti (the extremely ravishing account planning head) and Ram (the extremely ordinary account executive) in the room and classically, this was the case of someone having to start the defense.

“Well of course it will increase the sale, this campaign will help the brand make inroads into many more homes,” began Vikas, to the background of an inward groan from PP.

“How many homes?” asked the Chairman, gaze fixed on Vikas in a manner that suggested he had some past in third degree interrogative practices.

“Well we can‘t exactly tell you that,” started Vikas

“Its impossible to exactly establish how much of a sales increase can be directly attributed to advertising,” cooed Dharti euphoniously in support.

“Advertising is not an exact science in that sense,” quipped in PP

“It is an exacting one,” interrupted the chairman with a sardonic chuckle,” considering how much we spend every year. And yet my sales have never really taken off.”

“Sir, we need to nurture this brand for a while,” said Mr Bose, for once, trying to help the agency, “New communication and new positioning always need time to register.”

“And what is the time it needs? I am getting tired of the same argument, I need to see more sales,” interjected the Chairman, still looking at Dharti.

“What we need is a promotional offer,” began Madhukar Lele, and as was usually the case whenever he troubled the airwaves, was swamped by a blitzkrieg of contrasting opinion.
“Really? that makes no sense at all,” started Dharti.

“Lele use your head, at least once a while,” boomed PP.

“Where are your branding fundamentals man?” enquired Vikas.

“Can‘t you for once try and see the larger picture?” remarked an irritated Mr Bose, justifying the last name sobriquet so aptly bestowed on his subordinate. Ram was silent, his eyes fixed on the Chairman.

“You know, I like that idea” started the Chairman.

“But the brand image?” began Dharti.

“Our beautiful campaign?” said PP.

“The competitive framework?” added Mr Bose.

“Tea anyone?” asked Vikas, doing his ‘servicing‘ bit, and quickly getting an eyeful from his colleagues.

“Yes, I will have tea,” replied Madhukar Lele, and once again bore the brunt of a ‘redirected frustration‘ wave.

“Can‘t you stop thinking about yourself for even a minute?” began Mr Bose.

“This is such a huge issue and that‘s all you can think about?” reprimanded Dharti, as Lele‘s face fell to the floor with a thud.

“Spare the chap,” boomed the Chairman, “he has said the only thing that has made any kind of sense in this room.”

There was silence all around and Madhukar Lele‘s face was a sight for sore eyes (well actually he was grinning from ear to ear, but still).

“We begin this year with a sales campaign unless anyone has an objection,” roared the Chairman in a manner that unequivocally elucidated the value of silence. PP, Vikas, Dharti and Mr Bose exchanged knowing ‘lets give it up‘ glances, as yet beyond the comprehension of young Ram.

“Sir, don‘t you think that given the task for this year and the fact that what we were recommending is so unique and different from the competition, we should invest in a brand campaign? If you create the right associations in the mind, the results in the market are but a logical corollary. Getting into a promotional activity at this time will only send confusing signals to the consumer, it will erode our equity.” Ram paused for breath, scarcely believing what he had said, neither did the others.

Mr Bose‘s face was an agitated purple. Vikas‘s expression was that of concealed panic. Dharti‘s was of a grudging envy. PP‘s was that of restrained amusement. Madhukar as always was expressionless.

“No young man, I do not invest in equity,” began the Chairman to the bemusement of everyone, “don‘t trust this stock market boom. I believe in making money the old fashioned way, and now lets be gone.”

He galvanized Mr Bose and Madhukar Lele out of the conference room and into his car to do a market visit.

“What happened there?” asked Ram, after they had left

“Chief you were lucky you were sitting on his wrong ‘ear‘ side, so he did not hear what you were saying, but you nearly screwed us there,” said an angry Vikas as he stormed out of the room, Dharti closely following him.

“Don‘t worry about your boss, he is anally retentive,” offered PP in a surprisingly gentle tone,” I thought you made sense.”

“But why did he decide on the promotion?” asked Ram.

PP helplessly shrugged his shoulders and walked out.

“If sales numbers are the acid test, the brand will be murdered and laid to rest”, these wise words of wisdom were whispered in Ram‘s ear as he felt the tea cup nestle in his fingers and looked up just in time to see Chai-La disappear into a discarded pack of the itching cream in question.

 

The writer is Vice President, Rediffusion DY&R. He is also the patron saint of Juhu Beach United, a football club that celebrates the ‘unfit, out of breath media professional of today‘. You can write to him at (vinaykanchan@hotmail.com).

(The views expressed here are those of the author and Indiantelevision.com need not necessarily subscribe to the same)

The notice period – commonly identified as that periodic reference from the time an employee expresses his desire to move onto bigger designations, better remuneration schemes, faster computers, enhanced prospects of attractive coworkers or quite simply a better window seat, to the actual moment that he exits the office edifice. But there is a lot more that transpires during this transition that is usually glossed over. For this is probably the only period that employees actually enjoy the rare freedom of expressing their ‘brutally frank‘ opinions without fear of their ramifications.

“One who hands in his slip, will henceforth act as captain of the ship,” the hushed oriental accent, the express delivery of the tea cup and Chai-La (the mystical Chinese tea boy) had disintegrated into the door knob of Vikas‘s cabin, leaving Ram baffled as usual about the early morning sermon.

Vikas, stormed out of his cabin, and headed off to smoke, clearly sporting (if that‘s the right word) the kind of look someone would have if they had run into something very unexpected, very unpleasant and rather sharp.

Karan strolled out with the air of a man who had just won the lottery. There was a song on his lips that he was humming rather tunelessly, almost on purpose. Karan was also an Account Executive like Ram. Extremely shy and reserved at most times, terrified of Vikas at others, and unanimously the butt of all jokes emanating from the creative department all through the day.But today, almost mysteriously, there was an air of supreme confidence about him.

“I have quit man!‘ he said thumping Ram of the back with unwarranted enthusiasm, “going to another agency at a much better salary and getting a promotion as well.”

“Hey, that‘s really nice. How long is your notice period?”

“Just about long enough to make the losers here rue their existence.” He chuckled with sinister intent and strode off to flirt with some girls from the creative department, in whose direction he would scarcely have dared to breathe earlier.

Vikas returned, ashen faced, “we need to get a handover from Karan, he is going and things should continue to be in control even on his accounts,” then like a bad memory leaping to catch up with the mood of things he digressed, “he called me a pompous ass, do you think I am a pompous ass?” Ram choked on his tea, expertly disguising the triumphant chuckle.

“No certainly not.” He replied keeping his straightest face possible, an exercise that was proving to be immensely painful.

“Ok call the others in the conference room, get both the creative and media as well, lets take stock of the business.”

An hour later PP (the creative director of the exaggerated moustache fame), Tanya (the ‘south Mumbai‘ copywriter), Mumbles (the reticent art director) and Planimus (the gladiatorial media planning head) joined Vikas and Ram in the conference room.

“Ok why are we here? And who are we waiting for?” boomed PP in his customary ‘louder than life‘ style.

“We are waiting for Karan to discuss the status on his account,” began a strangely subdued Vikas, “and here he is.”

Karan had entered the room with a saunter that would have done a hormonically challenged male puma proud.

“That‘s what you have always been good at Vikas. Stating the blinding obvious,” he began with the urgency of a pinch hitter going for it.PP exploded into peals of laughter, and kept ferociously drumming the table with his excessively large palms, generally causing the concerned carpenter stress wherever he would have been.

“And for that matter, PP, all your work is pretentious and largely passé. I yawned all through the last TV commercial you created, only the last bit woke me up and that was the logo,” remarked Karan, enticing a lightning quick culmination of all mirth on the PP front. PP sat silent and stunned, almost like someone had jabbed him in the solar plexus.

Vikas, historically it must be said, for the one and only time in his career almost felt a pang of sympathy for his old foe.

Ram had begun to imagine the whole meeting as a video game in which Karan was the Terminator.

“What‘s wrong with you Karan, you silly boy?” cooed Tanya in an almost suicidal manner (in Ram‘s gaming theory) and the Terminator struck.

“Lets start with what‘s right with you Tanya, and my guess is that you would struggle to fill up the back of a bus ticket in bold on that front. Or have you ever even traveled in public transport to know the enormity of the insult that you have just endured?” Karan almost was basking in his own eloquence at this point.

Planimus rose from his table to begin to speak, ‘fatal error‘ thought Ram. He was composing in his mind the choicest insults that he could gather at such short notice, and was about to unleash them when the Terminator beat him to the draw.

“And you, Planimus have perfected a unique art,” began Karan and paused.Planimus was so taken aback that some kind words might actually flow his way; that he completely lost the momentum of the thing.

“The art of taking something utterly simple and making it mind bogglingly complicated,” completed Karan with a sardonic smile. ‘Hell, he is playing with his kill,‘ thought Ram to himself.

An uneasy silence followed, as the various participants were busy tending to their battered egos. At that moment the President chose to pop his head in, in his normal cherubic manner. ‘Jackpot?‘ thought Ram.

“I say Karan what makes you leave?” asked the President, as there was an inward groan in the entire room.

“Many things, but mostly you. I am almost tempted to tell the client in what poor hands their account is. Be it your directionless leadership, your confused values, your limited understanding of a subject called advertising, Your sycophantic culture that is now festering within the confines of these walls, your fixation with skirts, I could go on but I think more important things like lunch beckon,” concluded Karan with smug satisfaction and strolled out of the room with purposeful poise.

The President flopped into a chair, and looked at the ashen faces around him.”What…what was that?” he asked, still unable to string thoughts coherently.”The Notice Period Syndrome,” answered Planimus with an all-knowing sign, the others were still missing any sensation in their extremities.

“Lunch anyone?” asked the President, and all the others trailed out of the room, leaving Ram to clear the aftermath as usual.

“Get him out as fast as is humanly possible, settle his dues, and give him what he wants, just get him out. I don‘t want the others following his example,” Ram heard the President tell Vikas as they walked towards life, sustenance and people who would say more pleasant things about them.

Ram just closed his eyes for a moment to shut his mental video game, when he felt the tea cup in his fingers again and the oriental drawl whisper in his ears, “The only one in an office who is brave, is one who is leaving for another job or the grave,” for once it made sense.

Ram opened his eyes just in time to see Chai-La vanish with an air of resignation.

The writer is Vice President, Rediffusion DY&R. He is also the patron saint of Juhu Beach United, a football club that celebrates the ‘unfit, out of breath media professional of today‘. You can write to him at (vinaykanchan@hotmail.com).

(The views expressed here are those of the author and Indiantelevision.com need not necessarily subscribe to the same)