Chapter 1 — Conference Rooms
It was six o’clock in the morning, and the sun and temperature were about to rise. The latter was expected to rise throughout the day. Satyanand Mahatre was sleeping peacefully on his bed, completely curved to his left. His pot belly was hanging loose and moving in time with his breathing. The air conditioner above his head was set to 20 degrees and was an ear-splitting monster. Satyanand was unconcerned by it. Age had not disturbed his sleep cycle. The electricity went out, and the monster died, but the other beast awoke. He wiped his enormously long hairline, looked at the wall clock on the opposite side, sulked out of bed, brushed his teeth, and drank his morning coffee. Caffeine did little to wake him up, but it did plant a brilliant idea in his subconscious. And it was at this point that he experienced a “Eureka” moment. “There are generators in the office!” he exclaimed. He quickly stowed a pair of formals in his office bag and drove away in his luxurious car. The roads of Vadodara were kind at this time, and he had no difficulty in reaching the office.
The surprised security guard couldn’t recognise the tall, partially bald man in his nightdress at first. He came to attention and saluted by placing his palm adjacent to his right temple. “Good morning, Satyanand Saheb!” he exclaimed. Satyanand responded with a yawn. He placed his right index finger into the biometric system, which responded with an immediate “Thank you,” and walked past a large billboard that read “Welcome to Original Packaging.” He looked around, took advantage of people’s absence, and let out a long, silent fart. “Welcome!” he exclaimed to himself. His face was filled with relief.
He walked into his cabin, set his laptop bag on the side table, turned on the air conditioner, and set his alarm for 8.30 a.m. “One and a half hours of sleep is sufficient!” And I can wake up before anyone arrives. “Yes, that’s good!” he thought to himself as he sat in his extra-comfy chair, his head resting on the back. He began snoring within seconds. He had purposefully left the cabin lights on to avoid being disturbed by housekeeping staff.
Satyanand was not always so sluggish. There was a time when he was swamped with work and had complete control over what was going on. It’s possible that he was promoted to marketing director as a result of this. But as time passed, he began to feel a lot more at ease than he should, things began to slow down, and his belly began to protrude. He had delegated all of his responsibilities to his subordinates. They gave him a code name: “Indian-Idle,” because he had little or no work left for him to do. He had so much time on his hands that he would walk one and a half kilometres from Block A to Block B to answer nature’s call, despite the fact that Block A had a usable restroom.
The alarm went off. Satyanand awoke, turned off the alarm, washed his face, and changed into formal attire. A short, skinny man in his late forties peered through his cabin door just as he was putting on his tie. “Hello, Satty! “Good morning, buddy!” he exclaimed, his tone tinged with excitement. Satyanand said, “Hi Mrugesh!” without looking at him. Mr. Mrugesh Shah was in charge of keeping the organisation safe. He was slightly effeminate, and people thought he had a stronger crush on Satyanand. “You know, Satty, your initials are SM and mine are MS, which are totally opposite, and you know what? He blushed and winked, “Opposite attracts!” “I’m aware of that! You’ve said it a thousand times already! And you know what, Mrugesh? Opposite roads always lead to different directions, so please change your direction!” yelled Satyanand, irritated. “Anyway, I’ve come here to inform you that our head of operations, Mr. Bhagat Gandhi, has called a meeting in the ‘big’ conference room with the intention of renaming the three conference rooms we have,” a heartbroken Mrugesh explained. “Okay, I’ll be there.”
“Good day, everyone! I’d like to thank every HOD for coming together on such short notice “Please allow me to introduce you to Mr. Ajay Dhruv. He is a senior consultant with Indian Management Consultants and has come to assist us in naming the conference rooms “In his naturally soft tone, Bhagat said. As his name suggests, Bhagat Gandhi had a rebellious streak like Bhagat Singh and a voice like Mahatma Gandhi. He had hired the majority of his previous organization’s employees. He wanted to assemble his own Avengers but could only manage The Hangover! “Don’t be concerned, everyone! I’ve made plans for tea and snacks! “Hahaha!” exclaimed Bhagat. Except for the Avengers, no one laughed.
Ajay began his speech. “The conference rooms are currently named “Big,” “Medium,” and “Small” based on the area covered, which is quite innovative, but I am convinced that it requires re-branding!” Three words! Everything, like in movies, is dominated by three words: “Andaaz Apna Apna,” “Kapoors, Khans, and Chopras,” Politics — “NDA, UPA, and Others.” “Greed, Anger, and Fear,” in Emotions, Business… “Alright! We understand. “Enough,” said Managing Director Shivaram Ganeshan, a little too loudly to startle everyone. Shivaram was in his late sixties, but he could easily put a sixteen-year-old to shame. He was high on emotions but low on patience. “So what I was saying was…” Ajay went on. “We need ideas from everyone. We must name them to reflect the company’s culture or the intended use of the rooms.” “Everyone, please shoot your ideas.” Satyanand stated flatly, “Anarchy, Lethargy, and Delay.” Everyone, including the MD, remained silent. “Breakfast, lunch, and dinner — actual use, you know!” exclaimed the head of printing, Christopher D’Souza. The rest, on the other hand, were uninterested in making suggestions because they knew their opinions would be ignored when Shivaram was present. A knock came on the door, and a short, mildly obese man in his late fifties entered the room. “Govind, where were you? I looked for you, but you were nowhere to be found. And, for God’s sake, be punctual in meetings! “You’re the head of training and development!” exclaimed an irritated Bhagat. “Sir, I was adjusting my laptop charger beneath the table! And then my back became stuck due to a cramp” Govind said, his back arched. “Sir, based on our employees’ enthusiasm, I propose the name WTF! I’m talking about WhatsApp, Twitter, and Facebook!” Govind continued. Despite knowing that Govind was correct, everyone disagreed! “Everyone, hurry up! Give us some energy, and make some suggestions! What are your thoughts, Mr. Bhagat? You get it…” Ajay was about to say something when Shivaram interrupted. “We’ll name it Ganga, Yamuna, and Saraswathi,” an irritated Shivaram said. “How does it represent our culture?” pondered Bhagat. Shivaram reverted, “Because I said so!” “That’s brilliant!” exclaimed Ajay. “Conference halls should be as holy as the Ganges, as young as the Yamuna, and as…” “Okay, let’s disperse!” Shivaram stepped in. Everyone left, leaving the consultant red-faced and feeling almost non-existent. But he knew deep down that he would be paid.
The consultant billed one lakh rupees for his “valuable services.” The payment was immediately released by the head accountant, Shivansh Jhunjhunwala. He received an email the next day from Ajay Dhruv inquiring about the reason for the short payment. Shivansh responded,
“Dear Mr. Dhruv,
I hope you had a good time at our premises. Three words dominate the reason for the short payment as well: “Tax Deduction at Source.”
Regards,
Head of Accounts, “Original Packaging,” Shivansh Jhunjhunwala
Credits: The term “Indian-Idle” has been coined by @kyaukhaadlega (The Lying Lama) from Twitter.
