The Trappings of a Professional

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Today our entire life, not just work, is contained on a phone. You can work out of anywhere – a coffee shop or the beach – and all you need really is your phone or maybe tablet or laptop. When I put my slim lightweight laptop and phone into my handbag, I literally feel that I carry my entire life with me. Truly they are all I really need.

It is a far cry from the many things we thought were important not very long ago.

When I decided to set up my business, I received an interesting assortment of gifts.  From my father I received a briefcase. That is so antiquated today, but in those days a smart briefcase was a sign of a successful professional. He bought me a sleek lady’s briefcase in burgundy with my initials embossed on it. I proudly carried it for all my meetings, and it made me feel exceedingly professional and important.

From my mother I received an executive table set – a blotter, a folder, a tray for papers and a pen stand. While the rest disintegrated over years, the aging, peeling tray still sits in my office, looking exceedingly incongruous, and still holds my most important papers and notes. She also gave me the required brightly colour photograph of the family deity with instructions to keep it in my briefcase, so it brings me good fortune. Today she just sends it by WhatsApp!

My husband gifted me a voice recorder complete with a set of six mini cassette tapes and a set of spare batteries. I remember he even splurged and bought me a Sony which was a bit more expensive but considered the best in the market. It came with AAA batteries which were more difficult to get at the time and so the spares were essential.

My uncle and aunt gifted me a pair of fountain pens. I remember packing my briefcase carefully slotting in the pens, the recorder, extra batteries and all the cassette tapes just in case a client suddenly needed over 12 hours of interviewing!

But perhaps the most important of all was what I bought myself – my desk. As I have mentioned in an earlier blog, it was owned by the father-in-law of a close friend of mine. When he decided to sell it, she called me. He was selling it for the vast sum of Rs. 4500/-.

It was a huge table, almost 6ft long and 2 ½ ft wide. It had two sets of three drawers on either side which were deep and ideal for storage. But Rs. 4500/- was a lot of money then. After much dithering, I decided to go ahead and buy the desk.

I had not thought it through. It was a challenge getting it up to my first-floor apartment through the twists and turns of the staircase. Having declared it impossible the moving men caried it to the back of the building and prepared to hoist it up with ropes.

I remember one of them asking me, “Yaen ma evilo periya desku?” (Why do you need such a big desk?) Perhaps he thought I was going to dance on the table? I have no clue, but I did know my heart was in my mouth as they prepared to lift it. I had visions of it crashing and breaking to bits and losing my Rs. 4500/-. I was also worried about the men carrying it!

I was reminded of a song that was rather a favourite of my children when they were growing up. It was called “Right, said Fred…” It was song about a group of men trying to move a grand piano into a house. They take the legs and top off, and still end up dropping the piano! The song kept playing over and over in my mind as the desk was slowly hoisted up.

Luckily the room I chosen to be my office was at the back of the building and there was a tiny balcony with a door. It proved the perfect way to bring the desk in. Years later when I moved my office, it went out the same way.

I loved that desk. I could spread out my papers on it. I love working visually even today. I like to write things down. I try to be more and more conscious of the environment and not use paper, but old habits die hard. Interestingly, because of my habit of making notes on paper, I started recycling one side paper as far back as in 1992. Any paper was carefully collated and bound together into notebooks and writing pads.

I still miss my desk today. Sometimes when I have to think about things, I spread out my papers on my bed, the dining table and even the kitchen counter. It annoys the rest of the family, because they are often faced with a vast array of papers carefully arranged and a threat to anyone who dares to disturb them.

No king could have been more proud of his sceptre and crown than I was with my desk and tray and briefcase and recorder. They were my tools and signs of my status as a professional.