SERIAL : 31

INDIAN IN COWBOY COUNTRY

THE HUNT

Pradeep Anand

A few hours later, after dinner, when he had lulled Seeta to sleep and gently placed her on her Little Mermaid bed, he went to Monica, who was cleaning up the kitchen, and hugged her tightly from behind. She was taken aback by the warmth and strength of the embrace.

“What is it?” she asked as she struggled out of the hold to continue loading the dishwasher.

“I’ve got to tell you something,” he said as he swung her around to face him.

He hugged her again tightly and whispered, “Monica, I may not have said this to you, but you are my pillar of support.”

“Go away,” said Monica as she struggled to get out of his hold, assuming that this was yet another romantic ploy.

“No, I am serious. Without your strong support, I will have a hard time finding a job.”

“Do you want me to look for a job, Satish?” she asked.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I want you to be strong at home so that I can focus on hunting. If I have to focus on two fronts, I will not be as successful as I want to be.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Satish. I’ll be fine,” she said as the dishwasher roared into action. “Give me a day or two and I’ll be back to normal. Come let’s watch some mindless TV.”

They sat on the sofa in the living room, cuddled up, and watched a sitcom at barely audible volume so that they would not wake up their sleeping daughter. Soon, the only sound that filled the home that night were his loud, resounding laughter. It overpowered Monica’s sparse chuckles at punch lines and the drone of the dishwasher.

At first, he was depressed when he saw his new surroundings. The outplacement service’s accouterments seemed cheap, with plastic and particleboard fabricated furniture. Their aesthetics seemed to diminish further in the poor but adequate lighting in the premises.

He was thankful, though, that he has a superior package that assured him a private office. And his gratitude for Tim’s efforts multiplied when he saw that his new temporary workplace, on a tenth floor of a high-rise, had a large window.

Basking and working in natural sunlight more than compensated for the other shortcoming of his new office. He rationalized that this was a brief, passing phase and that he could survive the minor discomforts.

The staff was polite and pleasant, speaking in sensitive, hushed, and encouraging tones, as if he was in a sanatorium, undergoing therapy to recover from a corporate injury. He was assigned a counselor, Scott, an expert at helping the corporate wounded in recuperating from their recent little “accident” or “career hiccup.”

Scott was an organizational development expert who had a long career at human resources departments at many Fortune 100 companies. When his last position was eliminated, he changed his career track and decided to join the outplacement industry, which, in his opinion, was a growth industry.

Scott was in his late fifties, six feet five, and lean. Every day, he wore a predictable red tie on a white shirt enveloped in a blue blazer; only the color of his pants changed daily, from blue to gray to tan. He always wore black wing-tip shoes that were worn out at the heels.

He had sparse hair that was perhaps blond in his youth, and he wore thick, gold-rimmed glasses on his hawkish nose. He had a deep, booming voice that he curbed into a whisper when he spoke, as if he wanted his voice to barely reach his intended subject and no one else. Though Satish thought that Scott’s empathy was a little artificial, verging on condescension, he still found him congenial and competent.

“I have been doing this for five years, and the truism behind successful job hunting have not changed, Satish. Am I saying that right?” Scott said from behind his clean, modest desk.

He nodded and Scott leaned forward, as if he had been trained in body language and needed to appear friendly. He continued, “All my successful candidates have followed my step-by-step process and gotten out of here before their outplacement term ran out. Tim tells that you are as smart as they come. I am sure you’ll be out of here in a jiffy.”

Then he sat back with a practiced smile that lacked sincerity the edges of his eyes did not crinkle to display any of ample crow’s feet.

Satish felt as if he was in a correctional facility, doing time, and Scott was benevolent parole officer, giving him hints about how to reduce his stay. He shrugged off the thought and concentrated on what Scott had to say.

“Let me tell you this first: more than 85 percent of jobs, especially at your level, are not advertised. They are filled through personal referrals and recruiting firms. Second, it is a numbers game; the more people you meet and network with, the better are your chances of success. Third, looking for a job is a full-time job. It is an eight-to-five endeavor; you can’t take vacations. But before we get into all that, we have to first get ready and aim. I’d like you to take a few psychological tests.”

He had never taken a job-related psychological test before, and was somewhat reluctant to take one. He had heard from his friend that these tests did not transfer well across cultures; his Indian upbringing could skew his profile in an undesirable direction and scuttle his career.

Scott persisted, “Even if the tests are skewed or inaccurate, it will give you some insights, Satish. I have seen many people come here and look for the next job that looked just like their last job. When they got it, they were fired again. Why? Because it was the wrong job for them.”

He paused to let Satish ponder what he had just said.

“The people with the most successful careers are those who by accident or design are playing to their strengths. Reportedly, I have seen successful careers built around just aptitude, and not strength. We all have aptitudes in several areas, many of which guarantee good careers, but what happens over time is that satisfaction from work begins to diminish and we start living lives of quiet desperation.”

“Thoreau,” piped in Satish. “I undeerstand what you’re saying, Scott. Go on.”

“Good, I am glad you understand. Tim told me you were smart,” Scott said, cracking that artificial smile.

“Here’s the deal. You have a God-given opportunity to understand yourself on someone else’s penny. Make use of it. If you take time and do these tests seriously, they will reveal things about yourself that neither you nor your friends have seen about you.

“It will also confirm how you see yourself, and you can share it with your friends to see if they agree. We do not make an extra dime by doing these tests, my friend. Of course, it’s all confidential. We don’t even keep any of records. We give them all to you, for your safekeeping. Shucks, we don’t have the room here to keep any of your paperwork.”

“I understand, Scott. I have a question. What makes an aptitude a strength?”

“Terrific question,” cried out a buoyant Scott as he stood up, pulled up his pants, and came around the desk to a seated Satish. He bent down and whispered, “A strength is an aptitude that you have great interest in.”

He went back to his chair, leaned over, and said, “You are an engineering manager, right? I don’t care how good you are in engineering, Satish. If you are not interested in it, it is not a strength! Sure, your career will progress nicely, till one fine day you ask yourself, “What the hell am I doing with my life? How did I get here?”

He paused and answered his own question, “By compromising. By compromising. But we all do that, and there’s nothing wrong with it. However, it is a whole lot better when you compromise knowingly, rather than out of ignorance. Self-awareness, Satish, it is all about self-awareness. The earlier you gain it, the faster you are on a path to a meaningful life.”

Then he stood up and extended his hand, indicating that the meeting was over. “For the next ten days or so, spend some time doing these tests, which are quite detailed. Relax; have a good time doing them. Take some time off and spend it with the family. But next Monday, and every subsequent Monday, I’d like you to attend our meetings, where you get to meet other candidates and listen to their progress and experiences.”

He shook Scott’s extended hand. He left the office and went to his own. A well-dressed office assistant, Lucy, came by a few minutes later with test packages. Going through the documents, she gave him instructions on how to fill them.

It was about noon, and Satish was hungry. He asked Lucy for some recommendations to nearby restaurants. She suggested a Chinese restaurant, but as she stepped out of his office, she turned around and volunteered, “Let me see if the Lunch Bunch is still around. Maybe you can join them.”

Half an hour later, he was at the recommended Chinese restaurant with four other candidates from the outplacement center.

“Hi, I am Benjamin,” said the first one, who appeared to be friendly. “Former VP of sales at Brumliere. This here is Samuel Bartlett, former CFO of Brumliere; that’s Darrel Kennedy, president of Trustmink, and that’s Clyde Perrin from Texinveste Bank.”

“Satish Sharma, engineering manager, Clark Oilfield Technologies,” he said as he stood up and shook hands, reaching out across the round table. “Pleased to meet you,” he said to each one.

So began his association with the Lunch Bunch. He was the latest and the youngest addition. Dan was about his age, and the rest were at least ten years older.