The horrors of recognition

You don’t get to do good things in life very often, do you? No - Not even once a quarter - for some of us. It’s that rare. Don’t get me wrong - it’s not that we are not willing to or capable of delivering the goods and the betters (occasionally the bests, too). It’s just that the opportunity doesn’t present itself. Am sure we would double up if it ever did but I be damned if it ever rears its head twice in a calendar quarter.

That’s what makes doing good things so rare and precious. Add to that the fact that you often get “rewarded & recognised” for doing good and you have a combination even the best opening batsmen couldn’t better. So when I unwittingly did something good to my employers last October, I had called it all in upon myself.

Soon there were appreciation mails and invites to quarterly R&R sessions in my mailbox. I must admit given the inadequate presence of grey matter in my brain, it took me sometime to realise I was indeed in the list of intended recipients and it wasn’t a classic case of a clerical error of commission. I must also admit that though the prospect of a reward made me feel elated and a trifle excited too, the recognition bit was a little challenging and stuff I would have been happy to forego.

Now, recognition could be very hazardous you see. I have always believed in enjoying the silent anonymity of mediocrity that provides you the freedom to do what you feel like, including, let’s say, leaving office by 4pm on a busy work day. Recognition is a violent antithesis to this, an unwelcome impediment. If you have ever offered yourself to the vagaries of recognition, you would know what a talking of.

But they go hand in hand - I mean this Reward & Recognition. You can’t ever lay your hands on one and get to ignore the other. They are intertwined, hearts and bones. Like the US president and scandals.

So, one fine afternoon, I grudgingly walked up to a felicitation session where a very senior member of my employers management was about to recognise all the do-gooders of the previous quarter. I managed to grab a seat in the corner where the gathering was at its densest possible and soon got lost in the multitude of speeches that usually precede such felicitation sessions.

And then it came, those final moments of annihilating glory. Someone at the back of the podium started calling out names (like they would do in high school) and people of all shapes and sizes emerged from all corners of the congregation and started heading towards the middle. And there stood our Very Senior Manager, clutching a few envelopes, handing one over to each one that passed by, shaking her hand or simply offering a benign smile.

Soon it felt like the whole audience was about to invade the stage. There were various types of recognitions, I realised. And that was my ticket to anonymity. So I patiently awaited my turn and when it did come, I sneaked passed the gentleman almost snatching that packet of reward from his hand, allowing him little opportunity to take cognizance of me.

I didn’t wait there a moment more. Pushing and shoving my way through a crowd of already recognised teams and individuals busy in appreciating their rewards with an almost childish awe, I managed to reach the nearest exit and beyond!

Freedom was mine. And so was a packet whose content I wasn’t still much aware of. It could have been anything from a Citation to a weapon of mass destruction. So, once back in the familiar comfort of my desk, breathed a long sigh of relief & set about exploring the packet I could now call my own.