Student Once Again and At RIM
There is no limit for education, says one of the great men
(assuming I will be one day). But if when you are twenty eight, a father of
one, ex-corporate employee who is becoming student to get job in civil service
at entry level, one feels the pressure of age frying up your very sinew.
Reading novels, newspapers or any thesis doesn’t make you feel old but being at
an institute where learning is formalized, where rules are drafted as if for
children and where you are among your three to four years junior makes you
conspicuously feel aged and out of place.
Two years ago when I joined the corporate service, I was like
damn what the heck. Give it a try. After all, you get to try only once in your
one-life. As an inexperienced guy, aged among peers, right out of college, I
thought it would be a great opportunity to test my media studies in corporate
media house just to realize too late that post I opted for was intended for
something different. Can you imagine, a journalism student doing marketing which
is better way of saying begging. Still, I stayed there as a begging officer,
oops marketing officer sweating for two years. Looking for different marketing venues
was as scarce as finding a needle in the hay stick. Disturbing seniors’ client
base even with new ideas was like blasphemous act in ancient Christian history.
‘Those ministries are my clients, these corporations are my clients and those
agencies were my to-be-clients.’ Boss would be clueless about what each
marketing officers were doing. He bothered less if certain air of animosity has
developed among those. All he cares was work report at the end of months so
that he could proudly show it to his boss. Worse, boss knows which side of the
bread is buttered. If certain junior is related to some big fishes, he is all
ears and rests are his minions.
The disgust I felt at selection for vacant post (where
relatives and friendships matters more than ability) and the hatred I felt for
those ass lickers and disrespect I had for those know-not-but-to-lick-ass was a
first paracetamol pills that would cure me from illness and suffocation of
corporate nepotism. I told myself it is
better late than never. I may not shine in civil service as it needs both
ability and public relation but I wouldn’t always have to kiss ass for
promotion, training and favour. At least I will get a single promotion whenever
due. So I wrote civil service examinations bluffing my ways through. It was
okay with me whether I got through or not.
But today, I feel nervous like a nine year old boy I was when
I first self-admitted to school some light years ago. I know what I will do in
civil service fairly well. I will will be writing note sheets after note sheet
seeking kind approval; I will be passing files for ‘kind consideration’ and I
will be warming the chair religiously from 9 a.m to 5 pm. Being in civil
service doesn’t worry me because my stint as corporate marketing officer gives
me fairly nice picture of composition of civil servants’ scenes. Days and weeks
would be gone by seeking appointment with director who ever seemed to be in
meeting. Finally, one would be asked to send proposal. With difficulty, meeting
would be fixed with him to explain the proposal. He would say ‘ I will look
into matter’. One month later, while doing follow up, his PA would pick up. The
proposal file would have been sent to some junior officers. With difficulty,
one would be able to track that junior officer. That officer would ‘discuss the
matter’ again with director. Three months later, the file would be lost and one
would be asked to rewrite proposal again. As a civil servant, I would be there
in the maze of bureaucratic process finding a means to make table tours at rate
of maximum permissible ceiling.
Anyway, this would come after one year. What sends chill down
my spine right now is being student once again among those proud young boys and
girls who think succeeding in civil service exam is major accomplishment in
life; who thinks world is smaller than they can see and who thinks they are
really cream from seven lakh people in the country. It bothers me because I may
not be able to fit in those innocent idealists. It bothers me because I might
poison their idealism with my exposure to bitter world where competition is
fierce, where favoritism is rampant and where cruelty of world is such that if you’re
lying in the pool of blood in busy street, nobody will give you a damn.
I am also nervous because I might not be able to communicate at
their level because the mindset of parents is quite different from mindset of
parents. I will see world through parental point of view while they will see
from child-point-of-view. But as fish in same bowl bound by same scanty water,
one must be able to find ways to communicate effectively, one must find means
to coexists, and one must learn to share experience and knowledge. Will I be
able to do that? Lastly can I be a good
student I never was when I was in the school and college.
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