A West Asian dream too far

Azure, the consultancy my flatmate Ravi works for, is run by five Partners. A Partner is one who runs his own profit and loss. For all purposes, he is the CEO of his accounts. There is no one CEO, since every Partner coordinates with others to drive the company.

One Partner, a 65-year-old, holds 60 per cent equity in the company. He is one of the two who bring in close to 70 per cent of the business for the consultancy. In consultancy, the traditional sales structure is inverted. Those at the top sell the firm and bring orders. The juniors do the real work of providing intellectual capital. Ravi, for instance, draws close to Rs 14 lakh an annum working on projects that are worth around Rs 50 lakh. If he also started generating leads and getting orders, his bonus would be an additional 3-5 per cent of the order size.

Everyone knows the Partner will sooner or later sell out his stake and invest the monies (approximately Rs 25 crore today) in his son's fledgling business. He is waiting for the business to attain critical mass, so that he may sell out just in time for funding the next stage of the home-grown enterprise. When that happens, the goalposts will shift. None of the other four Partners have the wherewithal to buy out his stake.

Between getting an external investor and having another consultancy acquire it, Ravi sees the latter outcome as more probable. It won't be a bad option too. In the event of a Tier 2 or Tier 3 firm acquiring the business, the synergies may generate substantial efficiencies. Consultancy mergers often work because what is combined, viz, human capital, is similar in outlook and orientation. No other assets need be resolved, because, well, there are none.

During his two-year stint at Azure, Ravi has done rather well. He has single-handedly conducted feasibility studies for multinational corporation clients. He has worked on the strategic direction for a national paints company. But familiarity breeds contempt, or in his case, stasis. He wants to move to a bigger role, preferably, he tells me, in some cash-laden company funded by oil money. While looking out for jobs in Bahrain, Qatar or Dubai, he came upon a financial consultant profile. He found that the job had been posted by Hari, an alum from his business school.

Ravi wanted to show interest, but discreetly. He merely visited Hari's LinkedIn profile, leaving a trail. Hari, who was urgently looking to fill the spot, got in touch with Ravi. That gave Ravi an upper hand (the sly rules of corporate behaviour!). A telephonic chat was set up at Ravi's convenience on a leisurely Sunday. (Bahrain, being a Muslim nation, works Sundays.)

The interview went smoothly. Apart from being from the same business school, Ravi and Hari are both Tam-Brahms. I am given to understand the topic of rasam came up, though strictly professionally (what their respective canteens serve). Ravi evinced serious interest in the profile and explained why he was looking for a change. By all accounts, Hari was satisfied. He finished the interview by asking Ravi if there was anything Ravi would like to know. Ravi politely declined. The conversation ended.

Then, silence. For an entire week, nothing. Ravi waited. He could wait - he was not unhappy at his employer's. But more than the job, he fretted over the interview. Had he said something inappropriate? Had he sounded insouciant? Too flippant? Not good enough? Unable to bear the uncertainty, he wrote to Hari on whether there had been any forward movement on his application. This is the reply he received:

Hi Ravi,
So sorry, I was on vacation and back in the office yesterday.

It was a pleasure speaking with you on the phone about the Financial Adviser position. Thank you for your time and interest in Beacon. We carefully reviewed your background and experience, and though we do not have a position that is a strong match with your qualifications at this time, we will be keeping your resume active in our system. We will continue to use our database to match your profile with new opportunities and will reach out to you if we find an opening for which you may be qualified.

Thanks again for your interest in Beacon's careers and unique culture; we hope you will remain enthusiastic about our company.

Kind regards,
Hari

Whoa! In spite of the dripping kindness, Ravi felt like he had been punched. Could this have been the same Hari (I half-expected him to say "My Hari"!) who had laughed with him over the phone only the other day? To Ravi, who had read up about Bahrain on Wikipedia and already made inquiries about vegetarian options there, the country had turned suddenly sinister.

He discovered new-found respect for his workplace. Everyone there was comfortingly familiar, he told me. Their eccentricities, unbearable till the other day, now seemed sweet and worth indulging. So what if the majority stakeholder might cop out? After all, Ravi is young and "prepared to face life's glorious uncertainties". The world beyond, on the contrary, is mysterious and disconcerting, and Ravi has resolved to try another day.

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The author has switched too many jobs in the past and hopes he can hold down this one
The company names have been changed