Of Dilbert, Dealers and Dancing

In case you haven’t read a book called The Dilbert Principle, I suggest you run to your nearest bookshop and buy one copy. I'm sure by the time you turn to page six, you would want to send me a thank you note with a bouquet of flowers, mach 3 razor blades, size 40 formal shirt, toothpaste, shoe-shiner, socks and mortein.

Darn it, I had to go shopping not blogging.

In the book, corporate victims relate dilbertesque moments from their workplaces. Heres mine.

Top management decided to fly down distributors/dealers from all over India to a city where these distributors truly belonged, Agra. Occasion: a 'Distributor Meet". The company's overt and distributors’ covert agenda for this meet was the same:

"A platform to promote bonding with channel partners. To celebrate the successes of the past year and plan for the next". Alternatively, "Free booze and short skirted emcee"

The meet began in the lawns of a posh hotel. A large stage was set where a dance troupe would entertain the guests and after the bar opened, vice-versa. We were seated around several round tables, region wise. I was ordered to sit with my Andhra distributors. Before long, speeches and presentations were in full swing and everyone was concentrating on the bar table being set up. Important prizes were given away like the second best South Andhra Distributor for sales of epidural anaesthesia kit.

Then, we were all handed over a large candle. Our GM came onto the stage along with other top management. Everybody was asked to light their candles and stand up holding them high over our heads. Then repeating after the GM, we recited a pledge, in chorus, on how we were one big loving family and that we will destroy all competition in selling intravenous neonatal cannulas, stop cocks and urine collection units. All this in dead earnest.

I looked around to see if my friend SB saw the farce that was being played out here. He was repeatedly stabbing himself with a dagger. As the evening progressed, drunken distributors hit the dance floor, literally. I was watching the fun from a safe distance when somebody hissed into my ears, "Don’t stand here alone. Why don't you go dance with your distributors.” Best prom night ever.

I reached the dance floor to see my regional head doing a close dance with one dealer. He then moved on, signaling me to take over while he serviced others. I tried to copy the neat steps of the distributor by shaking my arms and legs in different directions and bobbing my head back to front making fish faces.

Seven of us eight new joinees quit the company before the year was out.