Category: Media and Advertising

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)

        VINAY KANCHAN
The work-life divide- the fine line that separates office related activities with those other than, is fast becoming as visible as the Australian teams‘ manners during the ICC awards ceremony.This has ensured that work often intrudes when you have specifically set aside time to do something that even remotely reeks of giving you satisfaction at a personal level. (At this point the author was interrupted by a call for a meeting and he subsequently was only able to complete this article months later)

“So how has work been?” asked Dr. Sushma, scanning through a few reports on the table. Ram Shankar had long planned this appointment, ever since he had discovered that his old class mate had set up a clinic in the locality. Sushma was the kind of woman, who as Chai-La would have said while simultaneously floating down into the residual tea leaves in the cup, ‘compels a man to think about settling down.‘

She had been, even at that relatively early stage in the evolution process, unequivocally dubbed ‘wife material‘ by all those favored by the X chromosome. There was something about her that soothed the nerves, uplifted the spirit, cleared the mind and brought in smiles by the dozen. She had always been successful, but also had the rare gift of being popular at the same time. Thus the beeline of Ram‘s classmates who had conjured up imaginary ailments just for ‘medical dates‘, was long and as the school master would have resoundingly bellowed, in a manner designed to shatter the eardrums, ‘shameful‘.

Ram himself had made an appointment, over a fortnight ago, for that Sunday afternoon, just before she broke off for lunch. The strategy was to charm her into a lunch date post the ‘check up‘. Prior experience of concocting stories, for keeping ravenous clients at bay and off the more tender parts of his anatomy, had Ram fancying his chances in all such situations.
‘Work is just fine, though lately I have been feeling some shooting pain in my heart, that seems to strike without warning,” answered Ram.

“That‘s strange, this shouldn‘t be happening at your age. When did it first occur?” Sushma looked up and paused as she held Ram‘s gaze.

“Just about five minutes ago, when I entered your room,” quipped back Ram, trying to bring about some softness in his eyes as he made his pitch.

There was an elongated pause that followed; much like what would have been heard after all the fuss of the Big Bang was over.

Then Sushma smiled. And Ram Shankar felt something stir in the innermost depths of his being that refused to be put into language translation.

“I never thought you had a sense of humor in school Ram, by the way is something wrong with your eye?” asked Sushma, her own eyes sparkling with a life that was captivating.

“To be frank I never had much sense then,” began Ram, abandoning the attempt to make his eyes speak, as Sushma broke into giggles. “But now that sense seems to be shining on me, would it be the right time to ask you out for lunch” Ram Shankar was sure that she could hear his heart beat as he braved forth those words.

“Sure, as a Doctor I need to always encourage good sense when it makes an appearance, however late,” replied Sushma, Ram‘s morale was just going to crash through the roof when he noticed a rather disturbing noise emanating from his pocket, quite like the deranged ranting of Adolf Hitler asking for Monday morning job status reports.

“Oh that‘s just my boss Vikas,” said Ram as he stared back defiantly for a while at the phone, “and the ring tone fits like a glove,” he weakly ventured, knowing that answering the phone would definitely be a wake up call.
“Well, work is work” smiled back Sushma.

Ram cursed himself for not having switched off his cell phone. But having defined diligence as one of his core values, he found himself answering.

“Hi Vikas…”

“Chief, drop everything you are doing right now, there is a crisis”

“Today? Now?”

“Mr Bose wants a leaflet for his Monday 9am meeting and he must have it.”

At that point Ram could think of a million other things that Vikas and Mr. Bose could have ‘had‘.

“What is it about? Can I brief the creative over the phone and then proceed to office once they have cracked something?”

“No, you are the only guy who knows all the details; you might have to write the copy yourself. Anyways who will you get on a Sunday?” chirped back Vikas in a manner that made Ram consider homicidal measures.

“Then can I head back to office in an about an hour and start the job then,” queried Ram.

“No, Mr. Bose wants to be absolutely sure. He wants to go through a minimum of three iterations and he is expecting the first one in 45 minutes.”

“Three iterations… my” began Ram and then noticing that Sushma was watching him. “My task is not that easy you know” he quickly corrected the impending unprintable volley and stepped out of the doctor‘s cabin gesturing in a manner that meant either the reception was weak or that he had eaten one too many chilies.

“Hey I was in the middle of something, Can I do this later?”

“Have I told you about the rules that our company has governing the social life of an account executive?”

“No” answered a surprised Ram.

“There are none,” boomed Vikas as he exploded into laughter, “as an underling you are expected to abandon all personal ventures for the cause of the organization and your confirmation. Only as you rise in the company are you entitled to any control of your life at all. I have earned that chief and hence I am here, sipping a beer at home, while you will be getting back to office sooner than yesterday. What‘s more I can even afford to forget jobs and bring them up only on Sundays.” Ram detected a distinct sinister chuckle as he felt Vikas pause for another sip. “Good luck and don‘t bother me with any problems, you should be good enough to handle them.” Vikas signed off leaving Ram clutching his phone in a vice like grip in an attempt to control the storm that was brewing within. He stood silent like a dazed man in the corridor. But his world inside was screaming. Composing himself a bit he popped back in.

“I‘m sorry,” he began, “urgent work beckons.”

Dr Sushma looked him in the eye, “Believe me I understand,” she smiled back kindly. Then Ram saw they were no longer alone in the room.

“Hey since you aren‘t taking her anywhere, I suppose you might have no objection that she does lunch with me?” the suave voice of Cyrus, ‘the dude from school‘ interjected emphasizing ever so slightly on ‘aren‘t taking her anywhere‘. Ram could have thought of a million objections but societal norms in such regards are rather callous.

“Sure go ahead.” He managed keeping as straight a face as was possible. “Some other time perhaps” he asked Sushma as he bid them goodbye.

“Some other time,” she replied with a smile that offered some hope, though he wasn‘t sure whether it was just his servicing optimism kicking in.

“The life of an AE is well… not to be,” the hushed oriental tone, the express delivery of the tea-cup and Chai-La (the mystical Chinese canteen tea boy) had disappeared into the works of Shakespeare on the office mantelpiece. Ram noted with some concern that he had vanished into ‘Romeo and Juliet.‘

 

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

After stints at Lowe, Mudra and Everest the author is now general manager Client Service Network Advertising. In addition to that he is also patron saint of Juhu Beach United – a movement that celebrates obesity and the unfit ‘out of breath‘ media professional of today. To join up contact vinaykanchan@hotmail.com