A Memoir of a Management Trainee Program

It was a bright sunny day on 26.05.22. The world seemed to work fine, nothing out of the ordinary. If my memory serves me well, I woke up at around 700 hours that day. I, slowly, moved towards the window and drew the curtain. From the small hotel window, I saw a toto (Rickshaw) driver peacefully puffing on a cigarette underneath a tarpaulin, without paying any attention to the utter chaos of his physical world; soon the swirling smoke disappeared into bright yellow sunlight of the rising sun. Lost in headlines, on a tea stall, an elderly man was sipping his morning tea but now and then he had to pull the paper close to his eyes so as to read through the tiny texts. In one other far corner, a group of people were haggling with the fish and vegetable vendors to close the deal at the best possible price. This all was happening in the middle of one busy market in Kolkata, on a random Thursday morning. It was exciting, enticing, exhilarating—all, at the same time.

I had to report at 1000 hours on my first day. After struggling for a while, I managed to board on an airport bound bus. It was an old bus— yet working perfectly well—where the bus conductor would pull a thread to ring a bell as a signal to the bus driver to stop it at the right spot. I'd never seen such an interesting set-up. What further piqued my interest is the way the bus conductor was beautifully holding the vertically folded currency notes between his slender fingers, just like some noblewoman holding a handfan in a Japanese movie. In nearly ten minutes, I was there: NSCBI Airport, my workplace, that was soon goona be my permanent home for next two years. Mr. Sumit Kumar—a fair man with big biceps— approached to me, shook my hand and said: 'Hello, I am Sumit, your training manager'. He gave me a complete walk-through of the entire airport building, and briefed me on what the company does there. In a week, he got me a decent flat. It was a good flat: plenty of sunlight, and access to a huge terrace. But, in summers, it baked me like laminated pastry. Days passed by and from a fresh college graduate, I started to turn to a working professional—in double inverted commas. Initially, I didn't like the set-up. I mean, come on, man! I just can't go to the same place, over and over again. It was all too boring. But, by and by, I realised the halcyon days of the college with the friends were long over. The 'Management Trainee Program' was meant for two long years, so not a sprint, but a marathon indeed. During the early days of the program, the other two—and the only two—of my colleagues, left the job in pursuit of their ambitions. I was the only one left. To leave or not to leave, was never a question: go all the way, or do not start at all.

Days looked all alike, far too difficult to distinguish. Sundays were reserved for laundry, cleaning, and sundry things. Friends, I had a few, namely books, movies, songs and a diary that I had bought from Delhi's Daryaganj Book Market. Hours became days, days became months and months became year. I was still there. Steadfastly. "Just 365 more days, Satyam'', I convinced myself, "keep walking and don't stop; there's no point going back now." And, I walked and walked and walked, both literally and metaphorically.

In the summer of 2024, I got a call from my program coordinator, Mr. Adrian Menezes, that I am report to the head office for my final Program evaluation. I just had to climb one last step of the ladder. Nervousness and impatience become the frequent visitor in those last few weeks. Finally, the day arrived. In the Worli office of the company, I had to make my final presentation in the presence of our COO, Mr. Dewan. I had to go first since I had to catch a flight right after my presentation, so as to cast my vote the following afternoon in my hometown. Around 1700 hours, the COO walked in, took a good look, and fixed his eyes at me, as if he was gauging every word coming out of my mouth. My hands were cold and lips were dry, I was petrified by the idea of going wrong at this big stage. In a wee while, he asked the first question: so, how do you change the buffet when dishes are low in a food container? Instead, of answering the very question, I answered 'how to change the entire buffet when you change between Breakfast, Lunch & Dinner. It happened. I couldn't answer such a simple question. In the later part of the presentation, he liked a few of my ideas. But, the very thing that I couldn't answer a simple question had filled my mind so densely that there was no space even for those small wins in the later part of the presentation. My turn lasted for 20 minutes and then I sank in my chair, listening to my fellow MTs, who clearly were better communicators than I was. After three to four hours, our presentations were over. I thought I have ruined it. But, as I was about to leave the room, the COO turned and asked: so, what location are you going to join''? Guwahati Airport, I and one of my senior replied. "Give him some big market", suggested he to my senior. Through the entire journey home, I was surprised and failed to understand why he would recommend me for a big market, when I couldn't answer such a simple question. Perhaps, he liked the authenticity of my research project. Perhaps, he believed that my research project was deeply rooted in real problems of my unit. Or, in the least possibility, he just liked the colour of my tie. Too many perhaps. Perhaps, perhaps is a bad word. We should not use it at all.

In the first week of August, 2024, I got my appraisal letter; ''Satyam Mishra: Assistant Manager, Sales & Business Operations'', it mentioned.I reached where I had to. I got what I had worked tirelessly for two years. But, it would be rather selfish on my part, should I say I did it all alone. This isn't a story of an individual, but of hundreds of people of TFS Kolkata, who laughed and lunched with me—who bear the company of an eccentric man and loved him unconditionally. And, today, I'm going to name them all. Mr. Sudipto Bose—the boss: what a fine gentleman and an authentic human being he is! Mrs. Sweta Sen is a gust of fresh wind. Chef Abhishek Prasad is usually a taciturn person but with me, he can talk at a great length. My training manager, Mr. Sumit Kumar, I owe you a great deal. Mr. Soumya Acharya has got a brilliant sense of humour and helped me in definitive way. Aratrika Roy, Ritubrita Chowdhury, Debolina Chakraborty, Sreashi Chakraborty, are some wonderful women whose memories will certainly linger on for very long. My fellow travellers Pranav, Shivani, Animesh, Dhruv: we did it, guys. Last but not the least, Mr. Conrad Alves, for believing in me and hiring me from the campus. Mr. Adrian Menzes, you are the one person without whom this was not simply possible.

Adieu, friends, colleagues, and seniors! May you all have a great life.

Post Script: I miss Kolkata a little too much of late: Biryani, Narkel Naru and Misthi Dohi. Oh, heaven! Is there a place on earth more beautiful than this!?