My Poor Little Inf(y)amous Company!

Ok, presenting my first non-trivial blog! This is a (supposedly) sarco-humerous article I wrote when I was just about to complete 1 year as a software engineer in Cognizant Technology Solutions. This article was published in the company's monthly magazine.

There is a lot of background behind the story. It is a true incident that I found funny. For the uninitiated, CTS and Infosys are two great software services companies in India. Infy has kindof become an unofficial face of Indian techies. This article portrays the feelings of a person who is working for a company that is (was) not so well known to the local junta (atleast in Bangalore). Even while ordering a Pizza to be delivered to the office, I'd have to repeat the name of the company many times before finally resorting to spelling it out!

Maybe the Infocians would be enraged on reading the article but before they set their lawyers on my tail, let me declare that I have nothing against any company. I was just trying to emphasize how little known CTS was, as compared to the giant Infy. Maybe the situation doesn't exist any more, but the hell... here goes!

My Poor Little Inf(y)amous Company!

I have heard many a people ask that question before. “What are you doing?”

I have heard many a people give that answer before. “I’m working in Infosys”

I have heard many a people express that comment before. “Ooooo…!”

I heard that question again the other day. “What are you doing?”

This time the enquirer was a family friend of ours, who went by the name of Iyer. His only son only worked… guess where… in India’s only company - Infosys.

I have given that answer many a times before. “I’m working for Cognizant.”

I’ve heard many a people wanting to hear that again, just as Mr. Iyer was, “Yenna? Where?”

“Cognizant. Cognizant Technology Solutions. It’s an IT solutions firm.”

I’ve seen many a people blink after that answer. After a brief pause of assimilation (or misassimilation), Iyer said, “What solutions? You mean…. software? Something like Infosys?” Long company names were probably not his cup of coffee. (His only son worked in only Infosys)

I didn’t want to say it, but as many times before, I ended up saying “Yes”. I didn’t want to hear it, but many a times I get to hear the same reply accompanied by the same pitiful look as was being presented to me then. “Don’t worry. Keep trying for Infosys. You’ll make it someday. Send your bio-data form (meaning resume) to my son.” He said.

Everytime that leaves me stupefied, but I don’t even attempt to clear up the muddle. I hope the rest of the Coggies don’t eat me alive for failing to defend the company reputation.

Understandably, Mr. Iyer was one among the breed of ‘fathers of successful software professionals’. He gave the impression that after passing through millions of births in the bodies of all lower organisms, you, the immortal soul, have evolved to accept the body of a Human Being. Now that you have obtained this incredibly rare form of life, that too being born in this land of intrinsically intelligent people, it is an utter waste if you cannot make it into Infosys.

But wait… I left my conversation behind… Most people would stop at that, but being slightly bright among inquirers, Iyer went a step higher. “But… you are a Mechanic, no? Then how are you doing software work?” This generally is too much for me. As a Mechanical Engineer, I get wild enough when people mix up ‘break’ and ‘brake’, but mixing up a Mechanical Engineer with a Mechanic makes me click my toungue in distaste. When asked a question that deserves no answer, I generally answer with a question, “If I do my graduation in Chemical Engineering, would I become a Chemist?” That invariably drives the nail, but Mr. Iyer was of persistent type. “But why does Co… eer… your company… need mechanics to work on the computer?” (His only son studied only computer science and worked only in Infosys)

That was precisely the question I had dared to ask my interviewers (had I known the seriousness of the interview procedure then, I wouldn’t have done it). The answer I got from a startled face was, “Why! We need people who are unbiased!” (they couldn’t explain it beyond this, maybe that’s why they selected me; so that I could experience it first hand). Anyway, I just babbled the same reason to Iyer. “They wanted unbiased people.”

“How do you feel about working? Especially in a software company?” He asked next.

“Well,” I began. “In the beginning of course was the welcome change in life; from college to office, from student to professional.” He smiled as a metaphoric phrase suddenly struck him, “From learning to yearning!”. I couldn’t help agreeing with him as his accent made him pronounce ‘earning’ as ‘yearning’. Sly as I am, I replied, “Well I’m earning a little. But I haven’t stopped learning”. He overtook me with an unbeatable one, “You are still learning to yearn!” We both laughed (I, for a different reason). He continued, “My son yearns handsomely. Of course, he is never there to yenjoy his yearnings yexcept on Sundays.” I laughed wryly, thankful for all the Saturdays my company allowed me to spend at home (I hope that won’t change).

“How do you go to your office?” He asked. I pointed out my bike, emphasizing the fact that I bought it with my own money within two months of joining my company. I hoped he was atleast remotely impressed by that. But no. In all probability he hadn’t even been listening to my reply. “My son has to walk only 100 mtrs in the morning and the company bus picks him up!” I wanted to tell him that I travel 10 kms right into the heart of the city while his only son, after crossing that 100 mtrs mark, took only 100 minutes to get wherever he went. But I held shut. I wouldn’t have even bothered to write this article but for the rest of the conversation.

“They have nine restaurants within the campus.” The guy was hell-bent on proving what? I didn’t know. I found solace in keeping mum although the choicest multicuisine restaurants of Bangalore were a stone’s throw from where I… chuck it.

The vocal masquerade went on for quite a while, at the zenith of which, he finally took it as his duty to deliver me from the dark quagmire I had gotten myself into. “How long has it been since you are working?” he enquired. “Around one year” I said.
“Good. Then your bond must be coming to an end, no? Why don’t you send your bio-data form (meaning only resume) to my son?”

I smiled and said, “My company doesn’t have a bond.”
“What? Then your job is very insecure. As it is people get fired left and right in software companies. No bond means it becomes all the more yeasy for your company to fire you! You should never join such companies. They are very unpredictable! Irresponsible!”

I smiled as I recollected the famous HR statement that was told (even) to me during my interview. “The only bond in CTS is the emotional bond”. I relayed that to him.
“Just you send it across anyway.”
“O.K” said I (only to please him. I haven’t actually done it, HR please note).

That was about a month ago. What prompted me to write this article was that a week ago I met my friend (who happened to be the only son of Mr. Iyer, and who had only worked in Infosys) in the elevator as I was going home from office. He had joined Co… eer… my company. When I asked him the reason, he gave me a bored look and said, “Yaar, I was yearning to leave Infosys!” (and I’ve never known him to have a tarnished accent).

(This article has been published only with due permission from my magnanimous friend)

-Parag