If You Can’t Beat ‘Em, Manage ‘Em

In our troubled times, the sum total of all corporate wisdom sits on the wide —ok, more often, not-so-wide — shoulders of those who have a management degree. At least, so it seems to non-management cretins like me. The MBA grads — the ones with the keys to the secret chambers of modern business, the keepers of the Faith of Mammon — come armed with a bewildering array of ‘degrees’ – ranging from the innocuous-sounding ‘Marketing Management’ to the bizarre, ‘Change Management’, and the completely sinister, ‘Human Resource Management’.

As the range of degrees suggests, these worthies are entrusted with the onerous task of managing a goodish part of the affairs of the modern world.  It is their job to manage just about everything there is to manage in the very serious business of making money; and since a sizeable part of our lives is spent taking and giving — yes, yes, I know, the giving bit takes up way more of our lives — this hazardous substance, for all I know, the managers are probably managing a large part of our lives as well.

So what does it mean — to manage? The Oxford dictionary is less than helpful here. It has two sets of meanings for the word — one where the word ‘manage’ flies solo (no, no, please don’t think of frivolous stuff like Rani Mukherjee’s one-liners in No One Killed Jessica), without an object. Here it means “succeed in surviving or in achieving something despite difficult circumstances”.  As in, “Poor Queen Elizabeth managed on just £34 million last year.” But when paired with an object, ‘manage’ could mean ‘supervise’, ‘maintain control of’, ‘use sensibly’, or a host of other things, which basically translate into ‘screw the object – the thing or person that is being managed’.

And then the redoubtable Oxford Dictionary goes on to give you this nugget of wisdom about the origin of the word ‘manage’, if you’re hoping to be more deeply enlightened about its many splendours — “(originated in the) mid-16^th century (in the sense 'put (a horse) through the paces of the manège'): from Italian maneggiare, based on Latin manus, 'hand'.” So there you have it! That is the manager’s job then. To bring an object under one’s control and then use it to one’s own gain through the dexterous use of one’s hands. Which kind of brings us triumphantly back to our last definition of the word ‘manage’ when it is paired with an object – ‘screw the object – the thing or person that is being managed’.

So now you know what the Human Resource Manager does, or the Customer Relationship Manager. And what about the General Managers? Guess they’re the ones who’ve done their time ‘screwing’ all the individual ‘objects’ they can possibly screw and have now attained such mastery that they’re vested with the powers to ‘screw’ the general multitudes.

But there is yet another aspect of the word ‘manage’ that the Oxford Dictionary is mum about. This aspect is completely home-grown and springs from our own desi wisdom, which after all, has a formidable amount of ‘tradition and culture’ backing it.

The ‘Pliss manaze’ aspect - ‘manage’ without an object, metamorphosed into ‘manaze’. 

You’re squeezed between four other people on a seat meant for three in a Mumbai local, when an aspiring ‘sitter’ materializes under your nose and gestures that you should make some space for him as well – “Legs paining madam, pliss manaze.”

You have just two more hours to get dressed for your niece’s wedding and your tailor says: “I will be able to give you the blouse, but I can finish the embroidery only on one sleeve – thoda manaze karo.”

The water supply to your house has stopped and the Water Department official doles out this piece of advice: “The pipe has burst madam...our people are working on it, but it will take at least one more week to start supply....pliss manaze.”

I have often wondered what exactly people want you to do when they ask you to ‘manaze’. The answer kind of came to me out of the dark confines of a malfunctioning elevator in a thirty-storey building. I was stuck between the 13^th and 14^th floors; in panic, I picked up the phone and desperately told the voice at the other end:

“The lift has stopped. I’m stuck.”

The voice that replied had the stoic calm of a Himalayan Master: “I have called the lift company, madam. They will reach in 30 minutes.”

“Thirty minutes. You expect me to stay here for thirty minutes! I’ll suffocate to death.”

“They will be here in half an hour madam. Pliss manaze.”

And when I did ‘manaze’ to survive till the lift repair guys arrived, I began to realize what the word meant. ‘Manaze’, born of the holy union of ‘man’ and ‘haze’, is about recognising that man’s life is enveloped in a ‘haze’ – that this is all ‘maya’ and not to be taken too seriously.  That if things go wrong in this life, there are umpteen other lives in which they can be set right. And in the meantime, we can always grit our teeth, stifle our screams, and put all our faith in our power to ‘manaze’.

And now I can see you smart impatient readers shaking your heads and wondering why you spent time reading this piece at all. All I can say is:

“I’ll think of something better next time. For now, pliss manaze.”