FROG in the well – Of a much misunderstood phrase and Rightsizing

Not many of you know the origin of the phrase "Frog in the well". I will not fault you for that. But what I cannot condone is the fact that you go about muddying the reputation of that ribbiting rationalist, of which you know little.

You may not condescend to kiss it; you may despise the sight of the slimy, translucent toad. I have no qualms. "Myopic individuals; people with meager social skills; those who are cooped up in their cubicles" "Aah, here is a frog in the well", you croak, tarring the name of the good amphibian. There, my dear friends, I draw the line.

And here is why.

Once upon a time there lived a frog king named Mundaka in, well… a well. Like all kind kings who took care of their coteries and sycophants, Mundaka too was despised by a lot of lesser toads who were his subjects. Some brave blubbers even went to the extent of questioning his ways of ruling. Little could Mundaka do to either banish such lowly but large numbered leapers or bring a sword swiftly down to settle the matter once for all.

He bid his time sporting a soul-searing yet affable smile and going about the daily affairs. He needn't have to wait for long, for good times come to all who work for personal agendas.

One year there was an exceptional drought like situation, where the water table was receding and the green algae depleting. There was pressure everywhere to survive and Mundaka had to do something to not only ensure his own survival but that of his close brood.

Being an exceptional jumper and a great believer in plotting by jumping around, Mundaka in one of his out-of-the-well thinking moments chanced upon a snake in the grass (The same stricken one who reinvented itself after an appraisal. He apparently shed the old skin and became a consultant).

Mundaka: "Hello, friend!"

Snake (hissing from the corner of one side of the forked tongue): "You are my meal."

Mundaka: "No, I am your meal-ticket. I am a king overseeing an oversized organization. Now tell me what can you do for me?"

Snake (switching to the other): "You came to the right guy. My motto is "FROG - Fruitful Rightsizing of Organization. Guaranteed""

Mundaka: "I want neither undue panic nor inkling of the impending operation"

Snake: "Give me a large enough hole in the wall, in which I can curl up during the day. And leave the rest to me."

Mundaka: "You are hired."

Snake took his place in a hole in the wall and went about doing his stuff - few frogs a day, surreptitiously. Nobody noticed any difference as it wasn't any large scale disappearance. Mundaka meanwhile had a safety plan in place for himself and his hangers on. He heard of consultants who were taken on board for advice but stayed put to takeover the reins. He kept his coterie, sycophants and family members inside the deep-end of the well; where the snake couldn't reach. It was sure to drown if at all it ever put such a tempting thought to action.

Over a period of few months, the snake did its bit to the utmost satisfaction of Mundaka. The draught situation was also easing off and the feeders – fodder balance was restored. Rightsizing was achieved.

The snake having realized it wasn't getting any more of its daily calories called out to Mundaka at the other end, requesting a meeting. Mundaka said thanks but no thanks and performed a rain-dance at the deeper end of the well with his hangers on.

Snake weighed both the options. Of over-reaching its mandate by jumping into the far end of the well or crawling back up in search of shallow wells lorded by less cunning kings. The risks and rewards seemed to be far better laid out in the latter case. With things under control and none to raise their voice against him or curse him, Mundaka ruled the well happily ever after!

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Now you tell me readers. Wouldn't you want to be in the inner circle of such resourceful and wily boss, who can guarantee your survival and success even in adverse situations? Or will you still go back to what you have learnt from fools with a bit of moral fiber in them, and continue mouthing the phrase in the same disdainful manner?

Open your mouth, hahaha – Lessons from the woodcutter’s life

It is not just Johnnies-come-lately who rush to all and sundry to gush about the minutest of their accomplishments. Even the most seasoned of us cannot keep our gob shut in moments of elation. Or despair, but that I have already dealt with earlier in "Make an ass of yourself, but don't let the world know about it".
We undermine the perils of parting with information; and sacrifice the benefits accrued at the altar of sharing! Don't. I beg of you, as a well wisher. Falling on deaf ears, do I see? At least desist from turning a blind eye to this short and sweet story.

Once upon a time, there lived an honest and diligent woodcutter (WC) in a god-forsaken village. You know the kind. One who sharpens his axe for 8 hours, if he had 10 to fell a tree. Sustenance chopper, who stays forever poor, struggling to make ends meet. One day, he was doing his bit to bring down a mighty mahogany when his hands slipped and the axe fell into an abandoned well nearby. Having lost his means to earn his livelihood and no capital to procure a new one, he sat there on the edge of the well ruing his fate, after taking a good look into it and determining that there is no way he can get out of it alive.

His wailings reached the ears of a lesser god (LG), dweller of the well and a benevolent soul when he is in a good mood. And that day was one of those do-good days in his diary. Out he came, enquired the matter with a stunned and still sobbing wood-cutter, and dived right back in only to come up with a brand-new copper axe.

LG: "Take it"

WC (wiping his eyes, still in daze): "Not mine"

Dive 2. Silver axe

WC (shaking his head): "Nah"

Dive 3. Gold axe

WC (gaining composure and losing mind): "Wow. No again. How can I cut wood with this? Mine is of iron"

Dive 4. Puffing and panting.

LG: "Take it. And take the other three too. Consider this once in a lifetime hike, out of turn, for honesty. Run"

Pleased with his good deed for the day, the god dived right back in a 5^th time for a well earned repose. Even gods are human sometimes.

The WC headed home, happy and whistling at the good fortune that struck him. Honesty pays. Goodness prevails. Such were the thoughts on his mind, when he met with his scheming neighbor, a blacksmith.

BS (eye raised and conscience troubled): "What's up? Never seen you this way before"

WC (gaining composure and losing mind): "Brother, from today all my problems are solved" Blah blah..axe..slip..fell..well..god..1,2,3..Run

To make a dash into his hut and bring the heaviest axe out (rusting with no takers) was the work of a second for the BS. Off he zipped into the forest and reached the wealth bestowing well. Aiming well he dropped the purported seed of his future fortune into it and waited.

Thud.

LG zapped out of his nap like a mad cap. Ayyieee..

Running his hand on the part of the head where the ruddy thing delivered a deadly blow, he floated up menacingly. Cursing and cussing he looked in the direction of BS and was about to direct a volley of vitriolic verbiage guaranteed to wreck havoc.

BS was nothing if he wasn't a cunning sycophant. Prostration followed by paeans punctured with apologies in between flowed effortless from him. Slowly LG's temper came down to manageable levels. He realized that this poor soul was only driven by greed and a desire to make a quick fortune, which is but natural in the earthly beings. And it wasn't his fault altogether. If only that honest motor-mouth had refrained from uttering a syllable about the benevolent heart that LG was.

Zip. The Copper, Silver, Gold axes vanished from WC's hut and materialized in LG's hand.

Zap. They found their way into the stretched and grasping hands of BS.

Zoom. Into the cozy interiors went the LG, once again to catch a much needed snooze. Happy in the knowledge that the fortunes are safely in the hands of a selfish soul who wouldn't squeal.

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So you see folks? If ever you get a pay hike that defies gravity or the laid out norms; if you are sent on an offsite before you have the tickets safely in hand; when you are invited by the boss outside of office hours; or to his home; when you got a congratulatory email or you are privy to the impending pink slip to the dweller in next cubicle.. SHUT THE AHEM UP!

Because there are enough and more fast thinking, flash Gordons around than the number of disease carrying germs on your keypad. They will beat you to it (whatever it is), before it is signed and sealed and declared off-bound to others.

I know it is easy to get carried away. But these rewards are easier to get carried away by scheming and snooping peer-a-sites.

SO SHUT UP. And Savor in Silence.

 

Mentor-trap – It takes a mouse…

Take it from me. It is better to have no mentor than have a mentor who has all the good intentions, but doesn't know what's exactly right for the mentee. In the first case, you still have excuses to put forth for not getting the cheese, in the rat-race. In the later, you have nobody to turn to and crib, complain or be catty about. You are trapped in a cage, albeit a gilded one.

As the wise men of yore said, "Few people are born with mentors. Some acquire mentors along the way. And a significant portion has mentors thrust upon them." It's with the last lot our sympathies should lie. Still skeptical? Sample this story.

Once upon a time there lived Sage Suchitha, or "Pure Mind", a morally and spiritually superior being with a golden heart. Every day he took bath in a stream flowing by his hermitage and offered prayers to the gods. By a quirk of fate, one day, an eagle flying above head carrying its breakfast, a she-mouse in this case, accidentally dropped it into the stretched hands of the sage. Suchitha took pity on the hapless and injured she-mouse and took it home and applied medicine.

Using the powers vested in him by virtue of his pious nature and penance that he did over time, he turned the mouse into a young girl. He looked after her as his own daughter and taught her all the scriptures and sciences he was teaching his students at that time.

Years passed and the girl grew into a beautiful young maiden of a marriageable age. Sage Suchitha wanted to get her the best groom possible in the whole world; and set out to search for him.

He first approached the Sun god, the provider of light and heat to all worlds and the sustainer of life on earth. "O mighty lord, will you accept the hand of my daughter and make her happy?" Sun bowed to the sage and said, 'O holy one, I would be happy to oblige you, but I am not the strongest or ablest one that you suppose I am. It is the Cloud king, for he can overshadow me and cut the light and heat off in a jiffy. His is the abode, you want your daughter to be sent as a queen to."

So the wise man proceeded to the cloud king's palace. He got a grand reception at the place, and a patient hearing. The upshot is that the sage gained knowledge that the wind god is powerful than the cloud king as he can blow all the fluff in the world in a blink. The hot-air god (for it is by now, afternoon) led the perspiring sage to the mountain king stating that he alone breaks his path and changes his direction by standing his ground stubbornly and not giving way. Who can be mightier than the mountain?

"The mouse king" Pat came the reply from the mountain king, after the customary pleasantries were exchanged and purpose revealed by the pure-heart. "My mighty deportment is a mere nothing when confronted by the powerful jaw of the mouse king. He tunnels through me like I am made of cheese. He is the right choice".

Off he went to the mouse king and sought his hand. The mouse king readily acquiesced. The daughter was turned into a she-mouse again, and betrothed to the mouse-king. "I got her into a great place, where she can lead her life happily ever after", so thinking the sage's eyes went moist. The daughter too shed tears but for a different reason.

For she knew the sage could have, if not so naïve though well meaning, gotten her to marry any of the gods he has visited:

1. Sun – The shining star who worked fixed hours
   
2. Cloud – All fluff floating well above the measly earth, that people looked at and made their own interpretations, without taxing the god's mind much
   
3. Wind – Hot air and invisible to pin down for any misdeed. What fun!
   
4. Mountain – Stubborn, rooted to the place, lead a languid life without moving so much as a finger
   

Instead now she has gotten into a hole, a future mapped out to work incessantly and in mortal fear. A rolling stone slaughters mouse. And the well rooted deportments have many that can crush the tiny body and snuff the life out any moment! Bah, strongest!

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So you see folks? If the mentor was smart enough, he would have known what your constitution is. And at the very outset hitched your wagon to the right being. Without rising false hopes.

Or he would have, with the powers vested in him to change you for better (a la mouse to maiden), packaged you and gotten you into the right place without breaking a sweat.

All you mentor-blessed or mentor-hunting minions may smirk at me today, for being mentor-challenged. But make sure, you will not cry at your fate for being delivered into the hands of a well meaning one with less street smartness tomorrow. For then, you know who will have the last laugh!

“Performance” Linked Incentive – The PLI-ght of the blighter who was neck-deep in…

(2 posts ago, I mentioned the god's way of disbursing bonuses. This week, it is a humble effort to show that even human way is no better. Bottom-line? – No Hope! J)

The day you have signed on the dotted line endowing a substantial part of your pay packet to performance linked incentive (PLI) you are doomed. Take it from me. I am not talking about increment – a chunk of your future denied but incentive – a part of your past robbed.

Most of us would have had the wool pulled over our eyes. There is no shame in admitting it, for our ilk has the strength in numbers, if nothing else. At the last straw poll, the head count stood at a comfortable 99.87%.

When we got appointment letter with the last (and least important) page coyly mumbling "salary break-up" and loudly screaming PLI – 20%, we did not wince. We grinned sheepishly, when the HR hinted how employees who do not "put their stake in the ground" or "do not wish to grow with the company" rank a shade below thugs and many notches above petty thieves. We believed naively that the company is merely holding it for safe-keep for we know not, how to manage our finances. And behold the joy in the eyes of the starving souls at home, when they see 240% at one go, than 20% every month! Wow, these guys are good with numbers!

A year later, the sheepish grin gives way to quivering lips. Belief turns into bewilderment when we sit holding the last salary check. Figures in front of us get blurred. Suddenly we hear things that are completely different from what we were feeding to the investors and announcing in public domain. "Company is in bad shape". ""You did well, but your team/function on the whole slipped". "We have invested more in you than we got in return" "None in the company is paid a dime".

"Where is the harvest?", you wonder. But frankly, did you not see it coming?

You would have, if you had heard this fabulous fable at the knees of your elders. If not, lose no more time and deep-dive into the narrative.

Once upon a time, a young bloke walked into the court of a king seeking a suitable position. The king was in an indulgent mood, so he directed the administrative officer to take him on rolls as a palace guard and pay him "10 gold coins every month", a princely sum. The young man's joy knew no bounds and he profusely thanked the kind king. The kind king, then directed the young man to do a small task to prove his worth and mettle before he could join the duty.

"Your wish is my command, dear lord; please let me know what I have to do?" cried the lad.

"Stand over-night, neck-deep in the river flowing by the palace clad only in your loin cloth and report to duty tomorrow. Or off with your head". The jolly king ordered thus and retired to his harem.

It was the month of December. The cold wave was at its strongest. It is the time of the year when even a rhinoceros would prefer few blankets and a cozy corner, just inches away from the crackling fire place.

The youth ventured forth jauntily. With a song on his near-blue lips he dipped his toes in the waters. Inch by freezing inch, he waded through the liquid ice and settled down in a place where he could comfortably have his head above the waters. He stood there all night, stark naked, save his loin cloth. His eyes, full of life and zest, wandered hither and thither and rested upon one of the brightly lit torches shimmering through the palace windows. He meditated upon the golden words of the king and the thoughts on the impending job. The remuneration it carried eased the cold current cutting through to his bones.

Next day morning the happy soul made his way to the king's court and stood there quivering and expectantly. The king lifted an enquiring eyebrow at him and asked what he wanted. The youth, though taken aback a bit, narrated what transpired the previous evening and asked him for his reward. The king still groggy from the bacchanalia of the previous night and the sweet but hazy memory of a night well spent, inquired "how did you manage to walk here, without passing out"?. The youth answered that he was a happy and sturdy soul and the thought of the bounty that the morning would bring kept him from freezing to death. He also mentioned spending time looking at the brightly lit torch. "Aah, there you are now I know how you managed to stay warm and alive even in the freezing cold. The warmth from the torch of the palace! And to think that the precious oil and the high grade cotton is wasted on a vagabond like you doing meaningless chores of standing stark naked in neck-deep waters! What if you had died? They would have blamed me and not you! Glad I kept the window open, so you didn't meet an untimely death. Now off you go, and do not ever set foot on this soil again. Else…"

Now I have heard varying versions of the same, where a wise and unwavering minister comes to the rescue of the stricken lad and gets the king to see reason and make good his promise. But I think, it's pure fiction and humbug. Which king drunk with power ever saw reason? Or which coterie feeding off the fat of the land merrily would stake it's all for the sake of a naïve aspirant?

I am a smart man, if not a wise being. I have a year-long supply of thermal loin clothes handy for I know winters here are much worse. And the only favor I ask my king is to ensure it's water that he sends me to stand neck-deep into and no stinking swamp. Thank god, I indeed am blessed with a kind king.