SERIAL : 34

INDIAN IN COWBOY COUNTRY

THE HUNT

Satish was in a state of quiet agitation when Darrel pitched in and said, “Just listen to what Dan just said. You have to network to get to the right people. The key term he used is ‘right people.’ Are you talking to the right people?”

“Yes,” Satish said.

Darrell continued, “May be not. Let’s test that premise. Who are your targets?”

“Engineering directors and some VPs of engineering,” he said.

“Why engineering directors?” Darrel asked.

“Because I am looking for an engineering manager’s position, and it typically reports to an engineering director or VP of engineering.”

Darrell was pensive for a moment or two. Then he said, “Satish, there’s a bigger problem here. I think we may have made a mistake. You may be aiming too low.

“I think we all make errors in targeting positions for ourselves, especially early in our careers. We believe that we are not ready for senior positions when we are, and we hold ourselves back. Tell me, Sam, could you have been CFO several years before you actually became one?” 

“You are right, Darrel. I was ready two, maybe three years before I was finally promoted, but those times were different. The industry was hitting bottom. I wanted to stay out of the limelight so that when the reaper came along I was below the radar. Look at me now. The thresher got me anyway. I guess I was a little scared to ask for the senior position.”

“How about you, Dan? Were you promoted before or after your time?” Darrel asked.

“Before my time, Darrel, before my time. I did not want to be promoted to manager or vice-president. I just wanted to be a plain old salesman, but they would not let me do that. They wanted me to be part of management and help the underperformers get better. I wasted four years trying to create silk purses out of sows’ ears.

“Selling is inside you. Either you have it or you don’t. I was happy where I was, making a lot of money; then they promoted me, and then they fired me for not performing!”

He shrugged his shoulders as if he did not care about the outcome.

“I am sorry to hear that, Dan. But generally, do you believe that we hold ourselves back a little bit and see ourselves smaller than others see us?

“I think we do. I can tell you, when I was in my pilot’s uniform, women told me that I looked ten feet tall,” he said, laughing. “Shoot, I am only five ten, shorter than Satish here, but he thinks I am taller than him. Isn’t that true, Satish?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Satish conceded.

“How about you. Clyde? Your experience?” Darrel asked.

“True. I always thought that I was a country bumpkin and that I was not as good as them Yankees from Ivy League schools. It  held me back some,” he confessed. “I probably lost about ten years or so. Humility is a good thing, but if you wear it on your sleeve, it will hold you down and sink you like an anchor.”

Darrel gulped down the rest of his beer, and laid the empty mug on the table. Staring at it, he said, "Satish, I am going to ask you a tough question, and I want you to think before you give me an honest answer.” Then he leaned forward, looked him in the eye, and asked him, “Satish, do you think you were treated fairly at Clark?”

He promptly answered, “Yes, I think I was treated fairly at Clark. Why do you ask?”

Darrel drew a deep breath, shook his head, and said, “In my opinion, you were not treated fairly at Clark. I have read your technical papers, and I have seen you present them at conferences and participate in industry workshops. We did not compete directly, but I often heard my counterparts- presidents and vice presidents of engineering and other divisions- pay you compliments, especially when they heard about a successful field test or when they heard that your schedule had accelerated because of one of your breakthroughs.

“We wondered why you were never made a director or a vice president. And you did not leave the firm, even when headhunters offered you lucrative, enticing position. It is a small industry and company boundaries are porous. Your reputation preceded you when you joined the Lunch Bunch.”

“Darrell’s right, Satish. Sam and I know you by reputation before you joined us,” Dan added.

Sam said, “That’s what your evaluation tests revealed to you. Unknown to you, you had transcended from execution alone to strategy and execution to leadership. You were being underutilized at Clark, and if you had been there any longer, your growth would have been stunted. You were a tall man in a low- ceilinged room, and if you had continued to hunch over to fit, it would have deformed you.” 

“Let me tell ya something, Satish. You’re a lot taller than you think you are,” Clyde said.

“Wow, gentlemen. Thank you so much for the compliments. Can I buy you all a round of beer? And then perhaps you can explain what all this means in how I go about looking for my job.”

“I’ll drink free beer anytime,” Clyde said with a grin. “If you’ve got the beer, I’ve got the time.”

“Damn fine rule,” Dan said, and signaled to the waiter for another round of beer.

The five of them then huddled and, over several rounds of beer and nachos, helped Satish with a plan to accelerate his search. The premise was simple. He needed to target senior executives, CEOs, and presidents of firms who constantly looked for engineering leadership skills.

These executives were visible and could be reached by a letter from him, but he needed to recast his letter, resume, and calling techniques to move these executives to quick action.

Finally, Dan added, “you need new clothes. You dress like a bloody engineer, not an executive. Get rid of those pens from your pockets.”

When the waiter brought the check, Clyde signaled for it. He took the check, and as he pulled out his credit card over the protests of his lunch buddies, he looked around the table and said, beaming with pleasure, “Gentlemen, this one’s on me. I am now an employed man, unlike your sorry asses!” 

Clyde’s compadres jumped from their seats to congratulate him. “You poker-faced son of a gun,” Dan said, slapping Clyde’s back hard.

“Hey, the fat lady just sung a few minutes before we left for lunch,” he protested.

The rest congratulated him. Darrell ordered another round of beer, over which Clyde gave details of his new position.

“Executing vice president of Translaniar Bank. It’s just a small local bank, and the title don’t mean nothing–you know how banks are with titles. Shoot, this bank has a VP of internal communications who just delivers the mail!”

He paused, put his hands on the table, raised himself, and said, “Well gentlemen, my free ride is over. It’s back to the grind.” When the Lunch Bunch came around to congratulate him, he said nothing. After the last handshake, he silently went for the exit, but just before he pulled the door handle, he turned beck and said, “Adios, amigos! The pleasure was all mine.” He then exited the building, waving to no one in particular.

When Satish watched Clyde leave the building, memories of all the western movies he has seen, where cowboys rode into the sunset, came rushing to him. None was as majestic as Clyde’s unrehearsed exit.

When Satish went home that afternoon, Monica noticed that he was unusually calm. She had seen him engage in frenetic activity, wearing himself out driving all over town, meeting people to reach his aggressive targets of what he called a “numbers game.” That evening, he dropped his briefcase carelessly on the floor and hugged her firmly, all the while with a silly grin on his face.

“Did you get a job?” asked the suspicious wife.

“No,” he replied. “Something better.”

“What’s better than finding a job at this time?”

“Finding the right job,” he said.

“And?” Monica asked.

“Let’s take Seeta to the park and I’ll tell you all about it,” he replied.

“In this heat?” she asked. “Have you forgotten that it is almost July in Houston? It is almost ninety-five degrees out there. I am not going for a walk. Seeta will get dehydrated.”

“How about if we go to the swimming pool?” he suggested. “I know Seeta will love playing in the water, and it will cool her down, too.”

“Okay, as long as you don’t expect me to go swimming,” she said. She was still bashful about wearing a swimsuit in public.

On the way to the pool, he gave Monica a synopsis of what had transpired that afternoon. He shared the Lunch Bunch’s opinion about how Clark had ‘screwed’ him all those years. He told her that he had a terrific reputation in the industry, that he had been aiming low, and that his compatriots were convinced that he had to aim higher to fulfill the results of his tests.

“I am going after a vice president position, Monica. From now on, my targets are only CEOs and presidents of companies.”

Monica was pleased with what she heard. She conveyed her admiration by squeezing his hands and saying, “I am so proud of you, Satish.” She gave him a peck of encouragement and support on his cheek. Though he wanted to, he could not reciprocate; he was focused on turning his car into a parking spot in the crowed neighborhood swimming pool lot.

A few minutes later, Seeta, protected with “floaties,” and her father, with a large, bright orange “noodle,” descended into the shallow end of the swimming pool and played around in the warm water. Monica watched, pleased with the scene. 

The oppressive combination of the summer heat and humidity in Houston did not slow Satish in his job search. He systematically analyzed and created a list of target companies, excluding Clark’s competitors. He sifted through industry directories and discovered the names of their senior executives. Aided by Dan, he recast his cover letter and resume.