If you thought Stacy crying because I embarrassed her was a funny episode, (see previous blog), you should try this. This one is circa 1996 again. I had become a manager for the first time in my life. There was this young lady – Tammi Gagne Perry – who had just joined the group that I had become the manager of. Two months into her joining the group, my manager – Dan Stenger – undoubtedly one of the best managers ever in my life – one day called me to his office and discussed which teammates deserved how much bonus for the year. To be honest, I was so new as a manager, I pretty much went along with whatever he said. Plus I trusted his calls.

One of the suggestions he had was to give Tammi a $1000 bonus (which would have been out of cycle for her) for the results she had produced within a very short period of time. Again, I went along with it. Except that since I was the direct manager, I had to give her the message. It was not a particularly difficult message, anyways. So, I was up for it.

I followed all the management protocol. Remember, I was new to this. I called her to a conference room, closed the door, explained to her, her achievements in a very short time and that the company had decided to reward her efforts and results with a $1000 bonus. I was expecting a gracious nod. A token “Thank You” would have been nice too.

Instead, she just started crying. I mean crying fluently and copiously. Evidently, she was so overcome by the gesture from the company (actually Dan’s, not even mine) and she was so not used to being told “Thank You” that she completely lost control of herself.

Did I mention this was in a conference room? With glass panes as a wall?

Can you imagine the scenario? There was this young lady sobbing and crying uncontrollably. Facing him was this the-then-young Indian guy with a sheepish grin but totally clueless about what to do next. And then there were these passers-by on the corridor watching us and wondering whether they should step in and ask her if she needed help!!!

It certainly sounded funny today as I met Tammi almost twenty years after that incident and discussed it. (Again, it was far less funny for me on that day). It is with great relief today that I can report that she takes to compliments far less violently 🙂

Seriously though, it was just magical to get in touch with a human being that I had grown so close to over the years (even her mom who we lost to cancer, her husband and daughters as well as her sisters).

Great evening with Leanne and Robin over a glass of wine. We worked together long time back in i2 technologies. It was lovely catching up with both of them and remembering some of the stories from the late nineties and later. I am sure they do not want me to write the details of some of them here 🙂

Picture this – circa 1996 – a newly minted manager (in fact, first time manager) – yours truly – gets a chance to present his team’s activities to the CEO. I invited my entire UI team to attend the presentation. The presentation went swimmingly well, except for one minor hitch.

And that hitch turned out to be my understanding of the English phrase “dropping the ball”. I was eloquently presenting all our achievements and successes. Somewhere, there, I had to explain that we had to deprioritize a sub project called “UI Editor” in favor of something else. In fact, the developer working on it – Stacy Roderman – had to be pulled from that and put on high priority project. However, I spoke about it as “We dropped the ball on the UI Editor”. The slide clearly showed Stacy’s name against the sub-project UI Editor.

I have no idea why, till that day, I thought “dropping the ball” meant you “set it aside”. Of course, in reality “dropping the ball” meant… errrr. “dropping the ball” 🙂 Funny part is that the CEO did not even flinch, nor have any questions. But I could see that Stacy – sitting in the room – was visibly upset.

At the end of the presentation – which, as I said, went extremely well – I was feeling really good, when another team mate – Tom Moellering, came by and said “You might want to talk to Stacy”. Eventually, I went to Stacy’s room and I could see that she was upset. Not knowing what is going on and wanting to give some privacy. I asked her if she wanted to go to Starbucks for a coffee. She readily agreed.

We did not talk much as we walked to the car. I had barely started the car and started pulling out of the parking lot when she started laying it down to me. She was bawling and taking me to the cleaners, demanding to know why would I berate her in public – that too in front of the CEO. As you can imagine, I had not the faintest idea what just hit me.

I did keep my calm and tried to get out of her what seemed to be the problem. When I finally realized what the problem was, I was really amused by the comical scale of the misunderstanding caused by my lack of knowledge of an English phrase. She did not find it that funny at all. (Fortunately, she found it as funny as I when we talked about it this evening – which is why I am even daring to write it 🙂 )

While that was not the only time I got into trouble for not being knowledgeable of the language called English, it was certainly when it was healed very quickly.

We had a great laugh as we talked about it. We, being, of course, Stacy, her husband Brian and myself. Both Stacy and I worked in the same team and over time I got close to her and her husband. That was over ten years back. We had two kids each roughly around the same time and we continued to work in the same company roughly till around the same date.

Another funny story. Coming from India about a quarter century back, I was not terribly used to the concept of divorce and re-marriage. I mean, I knew what it meant – but I had no friends who had parents or siblings who were divorced. Or remarried. Against that backdrop, I am sure you will be sympathetic to my condition when one day, while describing something that I cannot remember, Stacy talked about “My stepfather’s ex …..”. She continued with her sentence but I was stuck at that phrase. By the time she had finished her story, I was still staring at her blankly while my overworked brain was desperately trying to compute who the heck is your “stepdad’s ex” 🙂

It was fascinating catching up with Stacy and Brian today. Once again, I reminded myself how blessed my journey has been by the presence of some really great fellow travelers on this journey we choose to call “life”.

I will let Bipasha explain…. 🙂

Got a chance to meet up with two of my oldest friends from Dallas area over dinner last night. It is always great to spend some time with Aniruddha and Indrani. Last evening was no different.

I remember – way back in 1995, I would play tennis with Aniruddha. Every single weekday. At 5 pm sharp. In his apartment complex – that was often referred to as CP-6!!! Not that our tennis skills was something we wrote home about; nevertheless, we would show up at 5 pm without fail. After a good game or two, we would sit around the staircase of the apartment building chatting ourselves to glory 🙂

Later, Indrani and Sharmila went to school together and we made some great common friends. This was when we were young couples without kids. A great weekend day meant we got up late, called each other up and showed up at an Indian restaurant a few minutes before they closed the buffet down and ate enough to justify a whole month’s worth of tennis games. 🙂

Unbelievably enough, I was a teetotaler then!! Speaking of which, we missed Sharmila last evening so much that we did the next best thing… the three of us had her favorite Pinot Noir 🙂 I am sure that is exactly what she would have us do 🙂

One of the best things about business meetings in Dallas is that I get to create intersection points with so many people that had crossed my path in the long past. The first one started with a guy I met on June 3rd, 1991 in the training room of COSL in SEEPZ in Mumbai – about two and a half decades back.

It was magical to get back in touch with a guy I had not met in many many years and is certainly the most creative person I have ever had a chance to know.

Aditya Garg!!!

Not sure where to start….

Maybe the fact how he was so meticulous and organized in everything he did? When, in those days, we cared very little about how crumpled our office clothes were, Aditya would invariably be found ironing in shirt before we left our flat to catch the office bus.

Or maybe that his flair for creativity rubbed off on me for a long time? If you have ever invited me to your house for dinner or lunch after 2005, you probably also remember the meticulously written Thank You letter written in a fountain pen with calligraphic nib on a monogrammed paper that you received in your snail mail. Well, Aditya was the guy who taught me calligraphy. He is the guy who taught me how to make calligraphic nibs.

You see, unlike in US, we could not simply walk up to a store in India and get the six pack Sheaffer calligraphic nib set. He taught me how to buy normal nibs and then patiently rub on a sandpaper and then rub even more smoothly on concrete to smooth out a hopefully-now-flat nib. He taught me how to make the two types of calligraphic nibs – flat and 45 degrees.

He was also the engineer par excellence. He had devised this lamp shade that was balanced by hooks in four corners of the room with four varying weights. Here is the marvel – you could place the lamp anywhere in the three dimensional space of the room and it would balance itself there for as long as you wanted!

Even to this day, he has not lost his zest for independence in thinking and deciding what is best for him – regardless of what the world thought. That, I mused this evening, looking at him, has to be the ultimate recipe for success in this world.

I gotta to meet him and learn from him more….

For the last few months, I have been trying something new in my weekly travel routine. I check in my suitcase. All I have over my shoulder when I loiter around in the airport or board the plane is a very small shoulder bag. Which has my iPad, a few printed pages, a yellow pad and of course two of my fountain pens 🙂 Given that I have eschewed sitting in a office for over 12 years and use iPad as my only computing device for office ever since they invented iPad (no laptop or desktop), I often have the luxury of watching how people with trappings behave. For example, the rush to board a plane! These days, I am usually the last person to board. Once, I almost lost my seat since I did not board with the rest of the first class passengers. I will tell you that story sometime.

Today’s story was about somebody I met when I went to check in my suitcase. As I walked into the DCA Delta counters, I noticed that there was nobody at the automated check in counters except one Delta agent standing around to help anybody who needed help. I had some time before my next call started (and LOTS of time before my flight left). So, purposely, I went to the unit right next to her and started chatting her up as I punched in my details at the kiosk unit.

“How long have you been with Delta?” I asked this lovely lady.
“Three years”.
“Wow! That is pretty recent. What were you doing before this?”
“I was an Oracle DBA”, she said.
“SAY WHAT??? What do you mean you were a Oracle DBA? And what are you doing here?”

And that is how the story unfolded. I was so engrossed that my unit timed itself out – so, I had to log back in again. You cannot blame me. I was stunned to realize that I was with a grandmom of five – who worked for Fannie Mae as an Oracle DBA for 13 years!! And during the downturn, as the government cut down costs, she lost her job. For the last five years, she has been unsuccessfully looking for a database job she would like. In the meanwhile, to support herself, she is working as an hourly employee at Delta helping people check in at the kiosk counters!!

I asked her if she would mind talking to me during her work time for a few minutes. She accepted. So, I got my luggage tag, handed it over to the TSA guys and came back looking for her. She was still there. I asked her about the difficulty of going from her six-figure job to an hourly wage employee. She told me it certainly has been very difficult but I detected no bitterness in her voice. I asked her what did she do during her off hours, expecting to hear a grandmom talk about her grandkids. “Oh! I keep searching for a career that I can flourish in”, she said!!

I got to learn about how she started her career in a 4GL environment and taught herself Oracle RDBMS and worked her way up to be a DBA. She talked about how she upgraded her skills to 11g a few years back.

Finally, I asked her if she would mind taking a picture with me. And that is how, I met Thomasine T at DCA airport. Her dad’s name was Thomas. They were expecting a son. When it turned out to be her, her parents just named her Thomasine. She also goes by the name Tammy.

If any of you travel to DCA, say Hi to Thomasine if you see her near the Delta counter. If any of you need a smart grandmom who can do a thing or two in Oracle, certainly contact her. It would be great to see if together if we can make a difference to the life of a hardworking grandmom.

At the core of my heart, I believe that the world belongs not to the ones who are born to better wherewithal. Not even to the ones who are born with superior intelligence. But to the ones who are willing to work very hard and not give up.

I have to believe in that. That is my only hope of personally making something out of myself when I grow up. And grandmoms like Thomasine …

As I started walking to the TSA Pre Check line, I asked myself if I had the mental fortitude to take a hit like Thomasine has and not give up fighting…. I suddenly remembered a Bengali song..

“Chirodin kaharo soman nahi jay
Aajkey je raajadhiraaj, kaal se bhikka chay”

(It is never going to be the same everyday for anybody in this world
One who is the emperor today will be begging for alms some day)

Last week, right about now, I was in Atlanta airport (just like I am now). I was waiting to board my flight to St. Petersburg. I was also wondering what intersection point might be awaiting me. Looked up the map of St. Pete to check out the neighboring cities and ran a quick search thru my Contacts list. There was a possibility to meet this gentleman that I had not met in a long long time. I knew he had retired, therefore, I was not even sure if his phone numbers would work. The email id was of HSBC – surely that would not work.

Just as they started boarding us, I took a chance and dialed what I thought was his cell phone number. Nobody picked up and the voicemail was the default message – so could not figure out if it was his number still. Next, tried another number – which I thought was his Tampa home number. I was not even sure if he was in Tampa still. Again, went to voicemail. So, two voicemails later, I resigned to fate and snaked my way into the plane and settled down.

I was busy watching all the passengers coming into the plane when the phone rang. It was from the home number! I was half expecting it to be somebody who would say “Who is this? I had a call at my number from this number”. As luck would have it, it was indeed the gentleman I was looking for. In short order, we set up a dinner engagement for the following day.

And that is how I got to meet once again the gentleman who was a big influence in my life when I came to this country. Chito (Rosauro Santos Ocampo) was my first boss in this country. I worked in his team in Citibank in Pompano Beach. That is when I lived in Coral Springs (yes, in the same apartment building as my other friend from high school junior year, as it turned out – but you probably have read that story on my blog already).

There were a few of us – young technology folks that were transferred from Mumbai to this location. Not having gone thru college here (unlike most Indians in this country at that time), it was baptism by fire. Picking up local culture, ethos while reporting to work full time and learning new stuff altogether could be unnerving at times. Driving on the other side of the road turned out to be surprisingly less daunting. I guess those medians helped. But there were other aspects that completely blew us away. Someday I will tell you how confusing a salad dressing can be to an unsuspecting fresh off the boat Indian 🙂

Chito (and his wife Malou) and Sharmila and myself grew up to get to be very close to each other. They were always very kind in helping us get accustomed to a whole new country. They themselves came from the Philippines. The whole team then got transferred to Dallas. That is how all of us landed in Dallas. And then eventually we went our own ways. Chito went back to Florida, switched to HSBC and then retired.

I was marveling at his terrific memory that evening. He remembered each and every person in our office from those days (I am talking 1993) and enquired about them. Fortunately, I am in touch with all of them and therefore was able to get him up to speed quickly. Some of the details he remembered was very impressive.

Eventually, I asked him – “how is post retirement life treating you”?
“Very good. I work at Lowe’s”, he said!
“Consulting? I did not know Lowe had a big office here”.
“Oh! no! I work at the retail store”
And I was like “What????”

Turns out Chito always loved tools, hardware, fixing things and such. As he told me, he could be left at a hardware store in the morning and picked up in the evening – and he would happily go around the store the whole day. (I know a woman like that in my house who behaves like that in dress stores 🙂 ). Turns out he goes and works there because he loves being around tools and stuff. Additionally, because of all the walking and lifting, he is getting a terrific exercise.

His incredible sense of humor is still intact. I distinctly remember he came to office one day, walked to my cube and said he got a ticket while driving thru the side road in Dallas Fort Worth airport. I enquired about his speed when he got caught. He explained that the speed limit was 35 mph. But cops usually allowed a tolerance of 10 mph above it, he said. And he claimed he was within a 10 mph deviation. Looking at my surprised face, he gestured his finger upwards and clarified that he meant deviation from the upper tolerance limit that we was talking about!! He was clocked at 55!!

Speaking of his hand gestures, that was another thing about him. His hands and facial expressions would do as much talking as his mouth (my brother is the same way; sometimes I make my brother sit on his hands and then talk; it results in hilarious situations). So, there was this day, right next to the main office door in our Pompano Beach office, Chito was agitatedly explaining something. The details completely escape me but I remember that he made the comment “It is like he almost washed his hands off it”. And as he said that, his hands smoothly made gestures as if his hands were under a tap and then he washed his hands off literally! And that is not all! As he went off to his next line, you could see him pulling his hands to the side and absentmindedly wipe them off each other – as if they had become really wet!! I could not help but laugh aloud!!

We caught up on his late father, his family in the Philippines, his two old dogs and the physical challenges he went thru ten years back that he had to will himself thru.

He has lost weight, looked great and seemed very happy! He most certainly deserves to be.

I went to a residential (boarding) school for my junior and senior years in high school. It was a very academically oriented school with strict discipline around study hours and not leaving campus without permission and all that. This being the first time I stayed away from home, it did not take much time for me to be homesick. A big driver for that was the food in our hostels. There is a reason the common term to refer to the canteen or food hall in hostels in India is “Mess”. This school’s food would make any airline food look like a nine course formal dinner, by comparison.

The inevitable result was that anytime there was a long weekend or breaks in between semesters, all of us would hightail it to home to spend the days with our parents and legitimate food. After school got over at 3, we would run back to our hostels, grab our suitcases and briskly walk to the campus gate to catch a bus – and for many of us – a train to go home.

All of us – except that one guy. Shashwata Roy Burman was his name. I remember every time I would be running out of the hostel with my suitcase, I would see him coming back from the mess with the evening food in his hand. Once I had asked him why did he never go home and instead stayed by himself in the hostel. It is then that I had learnt that he actually was nowhere from near the school. (We were all from within 100 miles of the school). In fact, he came from another state and the only way to get there would be to fly. I suspect train might have been possible but it would have probably taken three to four days to reach because of the geography. While the aerial distance was long by itself, the map of Bangladesh made it even more difficult since he would have to basically go around that whole country!! And of course flying those days was very expensive.

I remember feeling bad every time I saw him when I headed home. I had even offered him to come and stay at our house. But he always politely declined and in all the excitement of going back home, I would forget about it soon.

After two years, we went on our own ways and never saw each other again. That was March 1985. Once in a while I used to wonder whatever happened to that guy from Agartala. He was very good in Math and Physics. Had a dense lock of unkempt hair and stubbles all over his face.

Got the answer today!!! Nearly thirty years later, I saw him again this morning.

Recently, I had found out that he lived in Orlando and has been this close to me for a long time without me ever realizing. Just a few months back, I was in Orlando with my family! I had not the faintest idea that I was so close to him!!

Once I was able to pin him down on a world map, then came the wait to see when would I be making a personal or business trip to his city. Well, this week was the “when”. While I was not in Orlando, I had work for three days in St. Petersburg. Close enough, if you ask me. At the crack of dawn, right after 5:30AM, I set out in my rental car and about a couple of hours later was ringing his door bell!

I had offered that I take his wife and him out for breakfast. He would have nothing of it. He cooked breakfast for me. First, over outstanding tea that Sudeshna (his wife) had made and then over breakfast, we caught up about our old friends, our parents, his career moves and so on. He looked as boyish as ever and I would have never guessed that he had a fourteen year old son if he had not told me so.

If you ever are curious about how fate can play its cards in mysterious ways, you will love this. As we tried to figure what was going on with each other’s families year by year, at one point it became too weird.

Me: “So, where all have you lived in US?”
He: “First Naples, then Fort Lauderdale and then Orlando”
Me: “Where in Fort Lauderdale? We used to live around that area too”
He: “A small place called Coral Springs”
Me: “Get out! That is where we lived too. Where in Coral Springs?”
He: “Near University Blvd”
Me: “That is a long road. What was the crossroad?”
He: “Atlantic Blvd”
Me: “Are you talking about Laurel Gardens”?
He: “Yes! You knew somebody there?”
Me: “You gotta be kidding me. Which apartment?”
He: “What do you mean, which apartment?”.
Me: “Describe to me from the mall-side gate – how would you reach your apartment”

I could not make this up, even if I wanted to! As incredible as it sounds. that same guy I lost thirty years back and reconnected today and I lived in the SAME apartment building – separated by a few doors – and of course, a few years!!! Wow!!!

It was just an outstanding experience in my life spending some time with Shashwata and Sudeshna. I got so engrossed in our discussions that I forgot he had to get onto a conference call at 9 AM. As he excused himself, I also let them know that I needed to leave to get back to work. He went upstairs for his call. Sudeshna and I hung back for a few more minutes finishing our second round of tea. As we started wrapping up, I could see Shashwata at the top of the staircase with his phone on mute. I was ready to leave. He desperately wanted to join us as I was leaving, but once again he was stuck with life’s constraints.

I had strong flashbacks of that guy who would watch us from the second floor staircase of our hostel as one by one we left for our homes.

Thirty years! And like nothing has changed!!!

“I am surprised by your accent”, he said!
“Well, twenty two years of living here will do it”, I replied.
“No, I mean you have not changed your accent, at all!!”, he quickly added!
“Good! It helps in my stand up comedy routine”!!, was my comeback!

And that was the first exchange I had after we finished our hug. This gentleman had cleared out his calendar for the day so that he could drive for a few hours to get near the airport where I was landing. I had offered to drive out and see him in his town but he would have nothing of it.

And that is how I saw Manoj Rewatkar – after a good twenty two years or so. We worked together in Mumbai in my first job ever. We were part of the same project team and he certainly was the venerable UNIX guy. Coming from a renowned educational institute like IIT (Kanpur), he was, without an iota of doubt, one of the sharpest developers. I still remember the day that somehow, I sneaked into a team of three (along with him and Arpan Dinker – another sharp developer) – where we were asked to write three tools that would make all the developers in the team more productive. I think Manoj wrote one to automate regression testing (capbak?), I wrote one to cut down lines to be coded (macroprocessor?) and Arpan wrote on to speed up execution (shared memory?).

Life certainly has changed a lot from those days. But a few things about Manoj have remained the same. While he is a very successful entrepreneur and owns three businesses now, you would not realize it in the way he carries himself. Modest to a fault, he is one of the most ardent listeners and has a level of intellectual curiosity that never has stopped him from being open to new learnings. (In short, everything I want to be someday when I grow up to be as successful as he).

Our discussions for the evening were decidedly non-technical. It was mostly about perspectives on life. Sitting by the Potomac in Old Town, Alexandria in that cool evening as I picked up my bourbon and he, his red wine, I settled down comfortably to catch up on each other’s life. At one point, I was so intensely into the conversation that I did what I often do when I am concentrating – I opened up my shoes, then my socks, put the socks in the next chair (do not ask me why) and pulled up my legs and sat criss-cross-apple-sauce in the chair.

Manoj evidently has followed a lot of my thoughts on my blogs. He has given a lot of thought to those thoughts and that is what made the exchange so absorbing. On my concept of retirement (“take a year off, join back into a job, work for five years and then take another year off and continue the cycle”), he offered a little more nuanced perspective. He talked about his concept of “continuous retirement”. He first asked himself “What would I love doing even if I was retired today?”. He figured, that is what he is very passionate about. And that is what he started doing. Eventually, started his own business after having a great corporate job because he realized that corporate constraints were taking him away from his passions.

As he put it, the business has grown in leaps and bounds not because he was trying to build it big – he was just very passionate about what he did, attracted people to the company who think exactly the same way and that made them the best in the niche that they play in and then money started flowing in. In the meanwhile he and the employees have all the flexibility to take time off and do whatever they want whenever they want. Except that they are so passionate about what they do, they find themselves doing it even when they are not needed to. Also, why he has never taken any debt or capital to grow the company.

He is a true example of somebody who has reached the point where their job or business is not work really. That is what he wants to do in life – paid or otherwise. And anybody who is cynic about the approach whether one can make a living out of it should certainly visit his company someday in Richmond, VA. From his point of view, he has been retired for quite some time now.

With the flexibility of the mind thinking that he is in retirement, he has been able to expand his horizons into many other physical and mental activities. He has taken up the hobby of climbing after getting involved in a charity event to raise money by climbing. By the way, after hearing the stories of adrenaline rush and mind blowing scenes you get to see, I am thinking of putting this in my bucket list!

I mentioned to him how inspired I was by his story, his life and his attitude.
“No, I have to thank you”, he said.
“How so?”, I enquired, genuinely confused.

And that is when he reminded me how in our first job, while everybody worked very hard and long hours, I would make it a point to get my day’s job done and without fail, leave by the 5:40PM bus. He reminded me that I was new to the city and did not have many friends outside work. So, he had evidently asked me once “What do you do after you go back to the apartment?”. He recollected that I told him that I would go back, listen to music for an hour or so, and then write letters to all my friends and relatives.

It all started coming back to me. It is true that I was a stickler for time and discipline then. I would show up on time and leave on time. I would go back and listen to Ghulam Ali for about an hour, play tabla for some time and then write letters. In those days when there was no email and FB, I used to write letters. Lots of them. Like a dozen a day. With calligraphic pens. On printed stationery. And then have my dinner with the rest of my friends after they returned by the later buses. Finally, I would go for a walk diligently before I went to bed.

Then I realized – that is who I am now!! And Manoj nodded like the wise man to the young whippersnapper as if saying “Yep, Rajib! This is who you always have been. You just lost yourself for a few years in the corporate life. But you are back!”

This was supposed to be my catching up with an old friend time. Instead, it turned out to be one where I came back feeling incredibly good about myself. And I guess, that is what friends are for. Probably human beings are for. It is about making each other feel great about who they are… regardless of who they are…

After a sincere bout of thanks and a hug and a promise to keep in touch, we left – evidently feeling great about the whole meeting. So much so, that I completely forgot to pick up my socks before I left!!!! I had simply slipped on my shoes and started walking!!!