Wartime CEO

Who would have imagined this? Rajan stopped typing and walked over from his desk to the balcony. Below, the entire stretch of the Marine Drive lay barren, and beyond, the Arabian Sea was calm with no boats or commercial activity. There was not a soul in sight, except for some dolphins dipping in and out of the waters. 

Rajan had never experienced Mumbai like this in the six years that he had been living here. Nor had he worked from home at this hour of the day. He took in a deep breath of the fresh air. It smelled fruity — just like mango orchards in May. It reminded Rajan of the time in his childhood when he would run down the street from his house in the village, along with his brother, to the garden where the mango trees were clustered and they would grab ripe, succulent fruits straight off the branches and bite into them. The thick juice would then drip down from their mouths and run onto their shirts but who cared? The sudden chirping of a bird on the parapet brought Rajan back to the present and he immediately turned his attention to the creature. How exotic, he muttered, as he admired its rich blue plumage with yellow streaks and its bright red crown. Animals and birds were emerging from their confinement, he mused. For a moment, he allowed himself to indulge in the creature’s melodious birdsong.  But the instant the bird flew away, his thoughts clouded again. Worry came over his handsome face and he gingerly ran his fingers through his short cropped hair.

Then walking back to his workplace, he pulled up Sanjeev’s email. “It is with deep regret that we have come to the decision to terminate the transaction.  The current conditions due to COVID-19 are not conducive to investment and injecting funds into a new venture at this stage would not be prudent. We wish you the best in your endeavours. Regards, Sanjeev.”

How could the venture capitalist pull back the term sheet? Wasn’t the term sheet supposed to be sacrosanct? It was a promise to give funds to the startup. But the coronavirus had revealed Sanjeev’s true colours. All his founder-friendliness had been exposed to be fake and he was just an ace salesman. Opportunistic and unethical. It was just two days to the board meeting where Rajan would be presenting the strategy for the startup to board members, which included his investors, virtually of course, but now all his plans had been upended. Two days to the board meeting! He put his hand to his mouth and wondered how on earth he could ever be ready for this session. He reached for his phone.

“We’re fucked, Desh. We’re fucked.”

“Calm down. Running down the rabbit hole of panic will do no good.” Desh’s deep voice steadied Rajan’s frayed nerves a bit.

Desh had a round face, slightly sagging cheeks and a receding chin that somehow made him appear older that his sixty years.  He had extensive experience in building and exiting businesses and Rajan had come to rely on Desh’s counsel to help him out of tough situations. And Desh was hard as nails. The lore went that once upon a time, early on in his career, Desh had got to learn that one of his companies was crumbling. He had immediately called in the movers and packers and had the office of the Managing Director cleaned out. When the Managing Director had arrived at 9 am to his office, he was aghast to see an empty space. Desh had calmly walked over to him and handed him his marching orders. No long-drawn discussions, no sweet farewells.

Rajan now hoped that Desh’s experience and advice would help him rescue his sinking ship. He leaned into the phone as Desh spoke.

“You and the business both need to pivot to adapt to this new threat of the virus,” Desh said. “The business needs to transition from growth to survival mode and to enable that you need to transform yourself from a peacetime CEO to a wartime CEO.”

“Wartime CEO?” Rajan jumped in his seat.

“Yes, ever read Ben Horowtiz’s blog? This is war. No less.  Violate normal protocols if you must in order to win!!” Desh raised his voice.

“What are you suggesting?” Rajan adjusted nervously in his seat. 

“Conserve cash, extend the runway. And for that you will have to cut costs.”

“I am ready to pause the new product development. All the associated contract workers will automatically be dropped.”

“That will not be enough. You will have to let go of the staff.”

“Shit, Desh. I have painstakingly assembled some really bright brains. I would hate to part with them.”

“Put them on furlough then. Also remember that sales, particularly for US and Europe, will be very weak for the next several months. Sheila, your expensive acquisition for business development…you can no longer afford her. She has to go.”

Rajan’s face fell and shoulders sank. Desh instantly took note of the brief silence at the other end.

“I hope you aren’t in love with her,” he said cunningly. 

Shrewd hawk, Rajan thought. Did he know everything? Was his admiration for Sheila that apparent? Rajan had been terribly smitten by her the very moment he had clocked her at the interview about a month ago. With long hair, almond eyes and high cheekbones, she had appeared perfect to Rajan and he had signed her on immediately. He had chuckled to himself: If clients happen to be men like me, then they will also sign sales contracts with her without too much ado. 

“Sheila goes. Is that understood?” Desh reiterated. “You are a wartime CEO and there are other lives to save.”

Rajan nodded reluctantly.

Rajan stayed up the whole night reworking the business plan that he would be presenting to the board. It was now just one day to the board meeting and still an absolute ton of work to plough through, Rajan reminded himself. He then typed up mails to be sent to colleagues detailing the terms for the furlough. It wouldn’t be a popular move but the staff would have to put up with it. He kept deferring sending the note to Sheila. Within minutes of sending the mails, Rajan started getting phone calls from irate, surprised staffers. Why this? Is there no alternative? How are we to manage our expenses? The anxious colleagues demanded answers. Rajan patiently responded to all their queries and tried his best to convince the troops that this was indeed the best solution. Rajan was determined to be better than his own previous boss, a certain Mr Sundaram whose management style and petty politics had repelled him immensely. “Who made you a manager?” an exasperated Rajan had yelled at him during a meeting. Needless to say, Rajan couldn’t have continued as part of his team for much longer after this outburst.

It was late evening when his thoughts turned to Sheila. He barely knew her as she had joined the firm just a month ago but he felt horribly disappointed at the thought of sacking her. He had imagined sipping wine with her and dining in gourmet restaurants, discussing clients and snuggling up to her in hotel rooms while on business trips to Europe. But now they would just remain as pipe dreams. It was fourteen hours to the board meeting and Rajan could no longer delay sending the message to her. He kept it short and to the point. Firing anyone is never easy, he muttered to himself. Then he reminded himself of Desh’s words: You are a wartime CEO and there are other lives to save. Rajan straightened himself and braced himself for a hurt response from Sheila.

It was two hours to the board meeting and there was still no word from Sheila. Would she simply fade away silently? Rajan wondered. He then busied himself, adding the final touches to his speech and presentation. They were in the midst of a big storm but the ship was in safe hands and would be sure to reach shore in due course. That would be message he would give to the board buttressed by the actions he had taken in the past several hours to put the business on a firm footing. Just then the phone rang.

“Rajan. Hell, man.” It was his assistant.

“What’s is it? Are you crying?”

“Sheila, Sheila. Man, she committed suicide. She jumped from the bridge into the sea and the cops had to drag her body out.” The assistant was wailing into the phone.

“What! I can’t believe it.” Rajan felt as though the surroundings were spinning around him and he reached out for his chair to hold onto.

“Shit, man. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. This is shocking. I never ever thought she’d react like this. Never.” Rajan vehemently shook his head in utter disbelief.

Hanging up, he struggled to his bedroom and collapsed onto his bed. A thousand thoughts whizzed through his head. What were her circumstances? How on earth was he to know that sacking her would just tip her over? He barely knew her. Where would he even find the answers? It was then that it occurred to him that this incident had just proven that he was even more wretched as a manager when compared to his ex-boss Mr. Sundaram.

Five minutes to the board meeting, Rajan turned on his computer and adjusted his video. Logging onto video call, he waited for all the board members to join. Soon five faces appeared on his screen. The quorum was complete and Rajan forced himself to speak.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I hope you had a chance to read my email. I meant to act like a wartime CEO, take decisive actions, even if they were brutal and ruthless and save the company.” He paused here and grit his teeth. “But I simply cannot get myself to continue to build a company over a dead body.” His voice trembled and his hands started shaking. “I will be stepping away from this business. It is now up to the board to decide its new course.” Saying this, Rajan burst into tears.

One by one, the faces popped off Rajan’s screen. He stared at the blank panel for a long time and then, on an impulse, he slammed his fist into the monitor, shattering it. A thin stream of blood started draining from his hand. “It just wasn’t supposed to be like this!,” he shouted, stretching each word. His voice echoed around the oversized room and, in his anguish, it seemed to him as though the walls were conspiring in flinging words back at him in vengeance.