The Two Year Itch
November 25, 2010
I suddenly feel a pressing need to write this, as my fingers start off on auto-mode. But then its not a rare scenario when you do your MBA & can think and end up making presentations, copy pasting from old presentations just because you
(A) Know how to use Powerpoint
(B) Are great at getting info from google and
(C) Can think & logically put up a decent sounding strategy even if its not your baby!
With all the above, I’m forced to come to the conclusion that an average well educated employee should never stay in the same company beyond 2 years. Why? Well why not?
You start out all optimistic, take a month to learn, 2 months to settle perhaps…around 4-6 months into the job, you can find your way around, around 9 months in, you are wary & get in the routine, and then after a year, appraisals show you that this once again is one of those companies which is a front for corporate honchos to run a scam. Offer you peanuts - pay you peanut skin. Frayed.
You start year 2 waiting for those peanut left overs to be credited to your bank account, cribbing about your job, looking out in a market where higher experience & low pay competition is eating you out every day. You suddenly realize how head hunt sites push the pressure too – they have one of those “256 people applied to this position” kind of stats with details on how many with lesser experience, more skills, higher pay and all that, just to step up the gas.
You begin wondering when this all would end – you remember your dad. You envy him suddenly and forget all this “we had it so bad” stories from yesteryears. Atleast they had no computers and powerpoint slides to make.
You sigh and get back into year two, and realize that the head peon back in school was right when he scowled at the Principal, saying “You’re temporary. I’m permanent”. You suddenly fear being stuck here forever, making presentations for every passing boss or head, with colleagues saying “change the colors on those slides”
By year two, you turn into a cynic, mocking the enthusiasm of a new joinee who comes to you for information and sends you a reminder. At lunch you tell him all that you learned from the past, almost as if you were retired and were his dad, educating him about the mean little mini-world he had gotten himself into.
But well the big question still remains – Why abuse powerpoint?
You take a few moments and then realize that for every IIM grad you read about in the newspapers, and of every big company you read of, there are millions that don’t make the cut. Great chances your boss was from there. You start rejoicing on your realization, lamenting “Ofcourse! He IS from one of those places.” Realisation creeps in, reminding you that he is at home, because you and he are stuck in yet another of those same places where mediocrity is bred with pride.
Your presentations look great. You feel like that kid who kept failing and got better each year. You remember a similar story of a Kindergarten failed neighbour from childhood who was now a school teacher. Your mom has more such ones to share.
You begin to understand that you are no different than a whore who is squeezed out for every juice she has and then done dry no matter if she could have been great at anything else. Deepthroated assignments and more presentations later, you are officially the “PPT champ” in your hood. The new joinees quip and jokingly call you “PPT Slut”. You know its true, even though you’d prefer being a whore – sluts do it for enjoyment, and you cant even remember the last time you said “work” and “enjoyment” in the same sentence, other than in a fresher induction presentation.
And just when you seem to be drifting into depression, your boss calls up asking to jazz up the presentation. You begin to wonder if your skills were not enough – you reason – “Isn’t my take on the business good enough? Isn’t this great strategy?”
Deep inside, you know you are just spewing good looking garbage that you recycled from a year or two back, glossed it up, redid the stats and changed the template.
You learn eventually that “jazz up” for bosses is just cleaner fonts and consistent bullets, barring those often encountered ones who love swooshing animations and cliparts from the installed stock art. A color blind you dress up the new bride who’s being oft-used in new colors, new fonts, and ofcourse, a basic backdrop of what used to be the approved official template for presentations.
You take a moment to mentally have that rare laugh at what this very presentation used to look like two years back, before you took over. You then spend a day or two, ruing your career decisions and the value add it had in your resume.
Job portals send lesser job notifications and you realize that it takes updation of resume to get noticed. Unfortunately, thanks to the changing bosses, all you did new were presentation redos and make up.
You still make up something that sounds laced with nectar, making you sound really important. A backend job suddenly reads “Analytics” and “Mining” for checking sales figures. Powerpoints for businesses you have no clue about read “Strategic Outlook” and “Forecasts”. You suddenly feel thankful that you did your MBA, because if nothing else, you learned how to lie, how to gloss and how to survive among a throng of thieving mediocrities, where every new head sits with a package several times yours and effectively plays postman.
You convince yourself that the grass is always brown, and that that’s the real reason why the guy who’s place you seek to replace in those thousand job applications you applied, really quit! Everyone hates their job. Everyone has those two years of Inferno. Dante or no Dante involved.
Unfortunately you start feeling that you are no good, not remembering that there are enough fools like you still looking for a better oasis in a desert full of incompetent incumbents and hollow heads. You know you were good at one point of time, and keep reminding yourself that it will all change the day you get that new job.
Or so you thought.
Interestingly, as I write all this, I will be almost completing three years in my current assignment. Sadly, I still wouldn’t mind going back to my previous one! We all miss what we hated once. Like dads. And their boring jobs with huge account sheets and no computers to auto-calculate. But then there is no real end to all this rat race, is it? What’s the best way out, you ask – keep the faith, I say!
Keep the faith.


