Corporate Musings: The "Mid-Sales" Crisis
I paused. Deliberately. It hadn't been a long time since my last break. But I realised it had been a long time since a pause. That Friday evening, I shut my work laptop with meaning. It was a "long weekend" to follow and the best part, ironically, was I didn't have an agenda.
It was around this time last year that I said yes to a dream job. Well, one might argue that each job is a dream one, when you're taking it. For me, this was closing the loop with my sales journey. Joining what the world calls a "hard-core sales" organisation. "Can you hustle? Can you persevere? Can you work with (hungry) lions?" were questions that had stumped me during the multiple interviews and I just had one answer "I'll stick to the process. Results will follow"........
Eight months on, I reflected on the questions and the answers all over again, as I took a well deserved walk that Friday evening. In all my professional life, work was never on my mind once I shut shop for a weekend. In the last few months though, I was having imaginary conversations with customers and colleagues all over the place. From elevator pitches, to case studies to strategy to even my imaginary defense when my manager and his managers questioned my commission statement that was yet to get off the mark. "Afghanistan and Netherlands are doing better" I could hear my manager point out, though I still don't know if he tracks cricket!
A game of chess with my eight years young nephew was what helped me take my mind off work for the first time that evening. A couple of hours of innocent conversations later, I realised I was in the middle of a major disconnect, most of all, with myself.
As a sales professional, I've always been polished but I've never been flamboyant. About eight years ago, I first said yes to sales because I always wanted to get out of the cocoon that I'd wrapped myself in and put myself out there. From selling light bulbs (I still pride myself for this), to being in pharma and then moving to more sophisticated forms of sales, the allure changed from "putting myself out there" to being "accountable for my own success and failure". But with the present role, I realised the difference between "success" and "failure" was half my salary. And while I've never measured my success with money, I slowly started realizing that in "hard-core" sales, money was a barometer with which the system would measure you.
"It's not about the money" I told Amma, on Saturday morning. For once, I was relishing the Akki Rotti that she'd prepared for breakfast. We sat down together after breakfast. And the conversation that day took a different turn, after my initial rant about work. Every once in a while, Amma and I sit down together talking our family, our extended family, my childhood and her childhood. Her mother - my Ajji - is a favorite topic for both us, for the role model she's been. That morning, we revisited all these chapters for a good couple of hours. It was lunch time when she got up and I noticed that her hands had shrunk a little. "You're growing old, Amma" I said, with a mixture of sarcasm and concern. "I'm sixty, if you remember" she brushed if off. But that moment stayed with me for a good while....
What has served my health well since the pandemic has been a certain level of commitment to staying fit. This has helped me both mentally and physically. That evening I did another one of those five kilometre runs in Lalbagh - that beautiful lung space in the heart of Bengaluru - with the usual determination. What was different was that I wasn't doing it to bust stress, but to feel more of that peace I'd been feeling for a day now. I stopped by the lake and clicked a couple of pictures of the clouds and sunset. Connecting with Nature is one of those things that comes easily to me. Of late again, I was guilty of losing the fervour for such simple joys. Lalbagh was nudging me to do better that evening - or was I nudging myself?!
A day and a half on, I realised that time is such a beautiful concept. Thirty six hours could be as long or as short as you'd want them to be. With the people you want around you, doing things you love or simply doing nothing can add so much quality to those hours. The imaginary customer conversations were still rearing their head up in the back of my mind as I rode to my friend's place that Sunday morning. His father had passed a fortnight earlier and some of us were attending the fourteenth day rituals. The depth of feeling that I experienced during the rituals and later was the most poignant I'd been in a while. That someone who'd grown with me was never to going to see a parent again hit me hard. We were all "adulting" for a while now, I realised. And while the whirlpool of work lives and the pressure of our ambitions would keep weighing us down, to be there for people who matter and in ways that matter is probably why we put ourselves through the grind in the first place!
An afternoon nap later, the depth was replaced by a sense of excitement. I decided to break my silence with the kitchen. It had been months since I'd stepped into my role as a "forever apprentice" under Amma's tutelage. We whipped up our own version of Mexican Rice, complete with colorful bell peppers and sweet corn. The hiss of oil, the vegetables donning their brightest color once sauted and the powerful aroma that emanates to tickle the appetite showed me another side of myself that I'd forgotten in a while. And by the end of that evening I almost started feeling positive all over again - my job was more a challenge that I'd taken up by choice. I had to find ways to make peace with it and with myself; Probably come up with coping strategies that didn't burn me out quickly.
I slept peacefully with this realization and it was perhaps a moment of mini-catharsis. As I bathed next morning, I noticed I was no longer having imaginary customer conversations with the bathroom wall - but humming a rendition and adding my own dash of creativity with the swaras. "Wow!" I patted myself on the back - wouldn't that be a perfect start to every day?!
It had taken about sixty hours for me to work through the sense of anxiety that had built up during the past weeks. As I prepared myself for the weeks ahead that Monday evening, I almost felt the sense of optimism getting back to where it was some months ago. More importantly, I felt I was being too hard on myself and focused on only one aspect of my life. The three days showed me that I'd stopped connecting with people, with nature, with creativity AND with myself! A year ago, any job was just a part of me. Something I'd not even give a second thought between Friday evening and Monday morning! Here, I felt I was (and am) way more committed than I've ever been! I've had sales conversations I've never had before. I've learnt faster than I've learnt before...
Shouldn't the result of that be more satisfaction as an individual? Yet, as I write this piece, I realised that I'd lost connect with the key facets of my life. I'd even lost connect with the writer in me. I always believe that the writer in you doesn't die when you stop writing. He dies when you stop thinking like one. Or rather, when you stop "feeling" like one.
Well, come Monday morning, I'll still be that hunter looking to get any number of small "yes's" from prospects looking to take those coveted deals forward! But at the same time, I hope that I have the awareness once in a while to take a little pause, opt out of the rat race, connect with myself and let the world take care of itself!
Statutory Disclaimer: The views expressed are my own and do not have a bearing on my employer
If you're my colleague reading this - happy to connect and know how're doing!
If you're my friend reading this - happy to connect and know how're doing!
If you're my manager or his manager - you know how I'm doing!
If you're my customer - Dear Sir...when are we closing that deal? ;)
- 28th October 2023
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