The corporate audit dilemma!

Audit times are particularly stressful for companies. Here, companies are assessed and certified as conforming to quality standards. Customers feel safe by signing up with a certified company. The irony is that companies have their own compulsions that forces them to bend backwards just to clear the audit! They suddenly go to an overdrive mode to write technical documents for all the previously released products. It is like those students who have lazed around throughout the year and burn the midnight oil just before the exam!

My friend is an IT manager. He was candid when questioned about this approach of putting the cart before the horse. “Look! For us, time to market is key. If we do not deliver the product in time, we do not have a future. But we need the certification. That is also important! Considering both, this is the best we can do.” He elaborates with an over-the-top analogy.

“The core work for the product is done by the programmers. They are my cooks. They can cook, but they cannot write. The documents are written by another team. They are my non-cooks. They can write a cookbook, but they cannot cook! I want the cooks to be left alone. The cooks have been cooking for so long that they need not refer to the cookbook!  If the non-cooks disturb the cooks during the cooking, both will suffer- the dish and the book. End of the day, my customers need the dish! So, we give a free hand to the cooks. Once they complete the dish, the non-cooks will write the book! That is why we scramble before the audit- to write the cookbook for the dishes already cooked!”

The cooking metaphor was getting complicated, but I could not stop my friend. “You may question why the cooks cannot write the cookbook. That looks reasonable, but there is a fallacy. Firstly, my cooks cannot write and secondly, they are too busy. Once they complete the dish, we move them to cook the next dish! The cookbook may be inaccurate since it is written by non-cooks, but we take that risk!”

He hit the issue on the nail saying, “The problem is precisely this- Auditors want to browse through the cookbook during certification time.  We need that certificate by hook or by crook! If you strictly follow the auditor’s guidelines, the cookbook has to be written first and then, cooking should begin. I can do that, but by the time I get breakfast ready, it will be past midnight! I hope you will patiently wait at the table! I will serve you the dish along with the cookbook!” he signed off with a wink!

 

Stressed by stress!

No visit to the doctor, therapist or counsellor is complete without the word “stress” coming up. Regardless of the ailment, stress is attributed as one of the main causes and our favorite whipping boy! We do not know when stress entered our lives. A few decades ago, there was no stress, except as a technical word in Civil Engineering textbooks. Not that stress was absent, we just called it differently! “Do not take so much tension!” was the advice earlier. In this IT age, tension has morphed into stress and taken over our lives!

The word is bandied about so much that “I have no stress” is an invalid statement!  They stare at you incredulously. “What do you mean you have no stress? Do you carry your work home and do you work on weekends?” If you answer yes, you will be immediately pinned! “All that adds to stress. You just don’t know!” If you stick to your point, you will sink deeper into the quagmire. “In fact, denial of stress is one of the symptoms of stress”! At the end of it, it looks better to admit you have stress since there is no escape!

We do not deny the existence of stress. We only question whether we have attributed more fangs and teeth giving it a far greater reality than it deserves. Magazines, newspapers and Self-Help books are replete with articles on stress and how it is a “silent killer”. Leave alone your IT job, even if you took buffaloes out for grazing, you will still be stressed. It is as pervasive as that, sparing none.

Luckily, these stress articles have gatecrashed into us along with suggestions on how to tackle stress. We are so well equipped that we can give a pep-talk on stress avoidance- how to take recourse to yoga, how to squeeze a stress-ball as a stressbuster, how to take a break periodically and gaze out of the window, how to spend quality time with the family and how to pick up a new hobby.

The next time I visit the doctor, I will go sufficiently armed. I will carry a diary with my daily timetable. It will have all the details-   8 to 8:30 am- deep breathing, 8:30 to 9 am- meditation, 9 to 10:30-long walk” and so. My entire day will be spent entirely on stressbusters, like taking Vitamin C pills proactively to avoid a common cold. Perhaps, then, the discussion on stress can be laid to rest.

But I am still worried. I may be told that that my fixation to the stressbuster routine is the cause for my stress. We now need a stressbuster for the stressbuster!

 

 

School Inspection Day!

Back then, a day that generated ample humor was the “School Inspection Day”. For an entire week, the school authorities worked overtime. The reputation of the school hinged on the assessment by the inspector. Classrooms were cleaned up and new charts and banners went up. The trophies got a polish and shone like cut diamonds! It looked like a different school.

Classes were shuffled. All the “bright” boys were packed in one class, and the plan was to cleverly steer the inspector to that class. It increased the probability of getting a favorable assessment. Each year, it was an exciting time.

Often, the D-day ended in a whimper when nothing happened! We learnt that the inspector visited a different class. It was as if we eagerly waited for the storm, only to find that it changed its course! Sometimes, he was pampered in the staffroom, with platefuls of samosa and halwa, with the result he was too contented to conduct any assessment! Or after the binge, he had to spend extended time in the restroom for the rest of the day. Fact and fiction were interwoven when it came to student tales.

Once, the inspector did come to class. We expected him to look like a police-inspector- with a pistol hanging off his belt! But the person who walked in was a genial, elderly man. He sat on the teacher’s chair while our teacher stood nervously beside. His question was probing- “What is the difference between condensation and evaporation?” He picked Sridhar to answer.

Sridhar went blank. He stood for an eternity, his face totally red. The class teacher had tension writ on her face. The inspector waited. Finally, Sridhar blurted out, “In condensation, the thing condenses. In evaporation, the thing evaporates.” It was a thought-provoking answer and the students giggled under their breath. Any reaction was fraught with danger- it could enrage the inspector or the teacher. Or the next question could come our way, and we were no better.

But the inspector was a seasoned veteran. He said, “You are right!” He explained the terms elaborately, glancing at the class teacher from time to time, who readily agreed with whatever he said.

Once the inspector left, everyone heaved a sigh of relief. We surrounded Sridhar- he had come out battle-bruised, but victorious. “I forgot everything!” Sridhar admitted. It did not matter. We hoisted him on our shoulders. He had heroically saved the day!

As we spin the hands of time, it comes to rest on some such nondescript event. An event that happened many moons ago, which generates many a chuckle now! Modern day school and corporate audits are no different- they follow the same time-tested appraisal procedure!

 

 

Dog in the lift!

It happened in a split second! The lift stopped at the floor, and before I knew, Joie and his master were inside. Three is a crowd. It is more so, when you are in a compact lift with Joie occupying more than two-thirds of the space.

I do not know if Joie is an Alsatian or a Great-Dane. But I do know he looks menacing and ferocious. If Joie stood on his hind legs, we will be eyeball to eyeball to each other.

Evidently, Joie and I do not share an agreeable chemistry. The dislike is mutual. Perhaps, with a hood over the head and a mask, Joie sees a faint resemblance to burglars of the past. After two years of pandemic, I was hoping Joie would have got used to the new norm.

It gets uncomfortable when someone is staring at you. You try to distract yourself and look elsewhere- at the cell-phone, at the buttons on the lift, but each time, your eyes hover over Joie, his eyes are fixed at you. You see him baring his mouth and notice his canines and deepening frown-lines.  He sniffs at your ankles and knees as he traces the contours of your body. You are in panic, but there is no escape. You have half a mind to press an arbitrary floor button and make an abrupt exit. For that, you have to pass Joie. You do not know what body-part he may snap at when you make a quick getaway!

Call it Murphy’s Law, as the lift was about to touch terra firma, the current went out and the lift came to a halt, dangling between floors. It was pitch-dark. Joie let out a terrifying bark! If ever there was a hell, it had to be this! “Quiet Joie!”, shot back Joie’s master. To assuage my fears, he added, “Joie is very friendly!” The next bark was a mild whimper. Despite the quavering fear I was in, I couldn’t but admire Joie’s comprehension of the English language! He would score well in those English verbal tests.

Finally, the current was back and the interminable ride was over. The door sprung open and Joie dragged his master out! I was shaking all over and headed for the Customer Office. The apartment rules surely required an amendment! No! I am not saying pets should not be in the apartment complex. We should at least have a rule as to who takes the lift. Since there are fewer pets, may be, they can take the stairs. If this is not agreeable, I am fine with the other alternative- from now on, Joie can take the lift. I will take the stairs!

 

 

Those court scenes!

Back then, as children, we watched the Sunday evening film on TV. It was a family ritual that was rarely missed. The most riveting films were the ones that ended in a court scene.

The plot was well known. The hero had been unfairly implicated in a crime while the villain went scot-free. The court scene was the final denouement when the hero’s fate would be decided. The proceedings followed a familiar pattern. When a witness came to the caged dock, he first swore on oath- “Whatever I say is the truth and shall say nothing but the truth!”.

Witnesses fumbled over words so that the entire audience was in splits. The judge was a serious man. He used a wooden hammer to strike down the commotion with shouts of “Order! Order!” That was enough to quieten the audience.

The prosecution lawyer spewed venom. As far as he was concerned, it was an “open and shut case” and the hero was undoubtedly guilty. The British may have left the country decades ago, but lawyers continued to address the judge as “Your Honour” and “My Lord”! Witnesses addressed the judge in the vernacular as “judge saab”.

It was now the defense lawyer’s turn. He appeared ineffective, but slowly built-up the tempo. Sometimes, he started with irrelevant questions for the witness. This angered the prosecution lawyer who protested, “Objection Your Honour! My client is questioned on details that have nothing to do with the case!” The judge mostly replied, “Objection overruled!” and gave rope to the defense. Witnesses had to answer all kinds of questions related to what they were doing on a particular night, several years ago. Surprisingly, they recalled and answered!

Soon, the camera panned to the statue of Lady Judgement carrying a balance in her hand! The twist in the case was brewing. The defense lawyer summoned a particular witness. There was a collective gasp from the audience as if the dead had come back alive! This old lady held the key to the entire puzzle.

Finally, the judge read the verdict, “Having examined all the pieces of evidence, we reach the following conclusion- the hero is innocent, the villain is guilty and shall be awarded the severest punishment!” A last-ditch effort by the villain to escape was thwarted by an alert policeman.

At the end of the film, there were details that I didn’t follow. I tried to get them clarified from my sister. Her answers were cryptic and left me more confused. But you got the big picture. The hero was a free man and joined the heroine in a two-seater car. They drove out into the sunset and lived happily ever after. Life was that simple!

The case of the forgotten briefcase!

The laptop has become a part and parcel of every profession today. And with it, you need a backpack to carry the laptop around. From the kindergarten child to the top-notch executive, everyone carries a backpack. It has become so ubiquitous that it has become impossible to differentiate between a kid, an upstart and a professional!

Back then, any person of standing carried a briefcase. Like a king’s scepter and crown, it was an integral part of his persona. The briefcase had to be sleek. Any bigger and it would metamorphose into a suitcase and just wouldn’t suit the purpose. You never knew why people carried a briefcase. There was no concept of “working from home” back then. It was too slender to accommodate anything- not even a lunchbox. So, what did they carry in the briefcase? At best, some stationery, the day’s newspaper, a business card, and some magazines from the office library!

But when you stood at the bus-stop or the railway station with your gleaming briefcase, you made a style statement. It announced that you were employed, and you felt officious and important. Briefcases looked classy. Just a click of the button, and it immediately sprang open, like a prodded cobra! The interior was glossy and split into several compartments, that housed your personal items.

In Mumbai’s crowded local trains, the briefcase assumed several avatars. The briefcase was balanced across opposite passengers and served as a table-top for an engaging game of cards or chess! Sometimes, passengers doubled up as musicians to spend the travel time more meaningfully. While one sang latest cine songs, the other kept beat, with the briefcase functioning as a percussion instrument!

No yesteryear Bollywood movie was complete without the briefcase playing a prominent role. Invariably, the hero carried ransom money in a briefcase to be handed over to the villain at a shady beach. But the briefcase’s sense of morality was unquestionable. The villain would never pocket it. At the opportune moment, there was always some distraction that led to a major scuffle. In the ensuing fight, the hero battled with the villain’s hoodlums, with the briefcase serving as a shield for many a kick and a punch. Needless to say, it was the briefcase that saved the day!

We are saddened that the briefcase that played such a multitude of roles and was a veritable Swiss-Army-Knife, has now been cast away in favor of the measly backpack. Even the Finance Minister does not carry it anymore while presenting the budget! Can we make a case for the briefcase and resurrect it back to life? We are sure it will provide ample entertainment that this generation has been completely deprived of!

Paper Roast!

You sit at the restaurant table and pop the question, “What is today’s special?” Pat comes the answer, “Paper Roast sir!”

The term “Paper Roast” has become such an integral part of the South Indian culinary vocabulary that it hardly strikes you as an English phrase! Paper Roast is not just another “dosa”.  It has an added aura- it is paper-thin and roasted to the point where it looks like burnished gold! It is wafer-crisp and with each bite, you can feel it crackle as it melts in the mouth!

The restaurant kitchen looks like the boiler of a Steam Engine! An array of pans, a battalion of burners, smoke wafting all over, and through all that haze, you can see the dosas in various stages of metamorphosis!

The magician is at work, as though endowed with a dozen arms. He works in a frenzy- scoops out the batter, spreads it in a circle, squirts some oil and very soon, the dosas sizzle to life. He is all over, moving from pan to pan, scraping and scooping and before you know plates upon plates are ready with Paper Roast! He steps to the far end and gives a stir to the cauldron of sambar! The air is redolent with a fragrance that makes you all the more hungry! 

Paper Roasts come in all shapes- some are circular, others are folded in a triangle, while some stand up conical! It is a visual treat as the golden dosas are laid upon the green of the plantain leaf. Tucked with the Paper Roast is a cup of steaming sambar and beside that, the textured white of the coconut chutney!

As the bearer steps out the kitchen, Paper Roast is a head-turner. You roll up your sleeves expectantly, only to find that it is headed to a different table! A series of such false starts fills you with a mild sense of irritation, but you know the wait will be worthwhile!

Now, the bearer carries one enormous Paper Roast, spanning several feet and rolled like a carpet! You wonder whether this dish was meant for the giants at Brobdingnag that Gulliver stepped into! An entire table erupts in excitement as the item is gently anchored.

Your reverie on how this is going to be consumed is cut short. The Paper Roast is now at your table. It looks delectable, topped with a generous globule of butter. Like an ice-berg in the sun, the butter melts leaving tiny rivulets that trickle down the sides of the Paper Roast! You cannot wait anymore. You dive into it with gusto. The contentment is supreme- all is well with yourself, the world and all that’s in it!