Our differences make difference

Imagine, we ask a layman on the street, what are the causes of divorces in marriage and major conflicts in the world, majority of them would say “differences”.  Supposing, we ask a successful multinational company’s Chief Executive Officer (CEO), why do you think your company succeed in a fiercely competitive market place? CEO argues that our company’s success lies in the competence of our employees drawn from different parts of the world with diverse cultures. Why a lay person and a CEO would differ in their opinion on “differences”?  Venerable CEO probably could be a product of popular business school where he / she would be taught on the advantages of diversity but the random person wouldn’t be aware of economics of diversity or differences.

If differences are the root causes of many problems in the society why the companies with diverse employees are always succeeding in the world economy?  There has to be a reason behind any success. Increasingly the world economy is intertwined. The market place that every global company encounter now is more globalized than before. Once the poorer parts of the world is also witnessing rise in disposable income levels. Subsequently there is a ubiquitous market or in simple terms money can be made in any part of the world. The onerous question is “Does the company that is headquartered out of developed market succeed in developing market?” and also vice versa. Companies around the globe particularly multinational corporations evidently understand this conundrum of diversity factor.

Diversity is not limited to people from different nationalities or skin tone or cultures but very often forgotten women at workforce. Gladwell Malcom argues vehemently in his famous book “Outliers” it is the culture of a human being that determines him / her squarely. Any sane human being would agree to the concept of different thinking patterns between Men and Women. Are different values and patterns of thinking good or bad for a company? Business schools charge a hefty amount of fees to prove this simple fact that differences within employees create value. In fancy world of MBAs we could say shareholder values. One ponders more to understand what is this value created out of diversity?

The rocket science behind this diversity factor boils down to priorities or values within different cultures. In case of Men and Women it is differences in perception. Each culture on this planet has something quintessentially “theirs” that make them very special in solving a particular problem. For example, western cultures place strong belief in individualism on the other hand Asian cultures trust their “collectivism”. In any work environment, these differences certainly create initial ruffles but eventually it results in “innovation” if work culture is channelled properly. It is undoubtedly a challenge for companies to create that unique work culture.

Presumably every global company is trying hard to create that unique work culture so that they tap into every employee’s skills. Employees would augment each other by bringing specific example how somebody in their country of origin would perceive something for instance.  Women at workplace would inculcate style and elegance to the products’ offering. The phrase “thinking out of box” inherently ascribes to the notion of employees who can’t be defined into a boxed nationalities and gender. To fittingly finish, the beacon of hope has drawn on us to make the reality “our differences make difference” through several companies embracing diversity as key factor. 

New attempt..

It is generally a rare occasion for me to scribble a poem but I was unconventionally compelled to write one. My poem is tribute to people who saved me from dangers of skiing in pyrenees, France.

I call the title of this haiku "SNOW", here you go:

Strong in precipitation

Shines in light

Slid in a slippery slope

Shallow in sedative sleep

Shutters visibility in wind

Storms while in pressure but

Seduces while in pleasure indeed

Sight of a beautiful pearl

Sings sonnets in the clouds though

Suffers solitude in dark

Sensitive to summer

Sublime when it bursts also

Saturates when it falls, delicately

Slanderous to scandalous skiers, verily

Signorina too behaves like snow 

From foreign correspondance

from the previous article..
http://www.spotalks.com/2011/03/lost-in-translation.html

I begin to write where I left the pen on the observations of an alien who have now matured into an official foreign correspondent. He has transformed from reading books about the country of his residence to practicing the real culture. He begins to examine the meaning of culture. He starts to wonder whether the major practicing religion has any influence on it. What about the fabled education system of a country, does it impact the culture of a country? How does weather influence behaviours of its people? How is the mosaic of culture made of? He finds the intriguing answers to his questions through introspection of his experiences and readings. A learned person would probably define culture as representative thought of people based on their beliefs, values, attitudes and taste. This multitude of definitions makes our foreigner busy to experience cultural pandora box.  He reckons the best way to understand a culture is always starting to debate on any topic and relate to the experience in his country.

As the economist claims even the paintings of a country would reveal the prolific performance of its economy, I kept wandering around the archived museums of my adopted country to paint the economic timeline. My wallet got emptied time and again to traverse the vast landscape of beautiful snow clad mountains, breezed beaches and its tranquil countryside. I deduce the mild romanticism of its people that I am not quite used to from their smile, gestures, dress and sexuality. I begin to find solace in my solitude through sensual relationship. Consequently, I observe my adopted country through prism of my partner. I understand the new found colour and creed of my world around me, eventually embracing its profound delicacies. I listen to the melodramatic description of its history that swallows the distress of war and disease. My intellect then turns to its tradition of music, cinema, literature and other forms of arts to comprehend the compelling thoughts of its elite.

I read voraciously country’s vox populi on the political newspapers and magazines. I debate details of the politics with natives. I indulge myself in the mastery of its traditional sports and dance. I begin to ape the natives in dressing and body language. I even cook the cuisine that everybody in the country eats regularly. The things I once fancied as a foreigner begins to become custodian to the very own customer. As a customer to this foreign land, I have literally amused myself. I explored, enjoyed and occasionally rejoiced of leaving my homeland to report about some alien place. Nevertheless, my love affair with this foreign land is almost complete; I broke the very fabric of my sensual relationship. However, I am convinced that myriad varieties of people around the world are ultimately united by this magical touch of humanity that boils down to simple show of sympathy and sincerity in any relationship. I, as a foreigner in this feigned part of the planet finally have to leave this beautiful paradise.

In dreams....

Solitude, rather a precious moment while often you are surrounded by army of lieutenants in this 21^st century that purported to have crossed 9 billion people. Hence, I decided to write something melodramatic about being alone although not so legendary as ‘Solitary Reaper’ by William Wordsworth. The story goes; I sat down on the empty benches along the river that streams across the city. The wrangling of the mind delves into the problems of custodian life. Why would anybody like to be born into this overcrowded and over competitive society? The picture of a poor boy in one of the poorest parts of the world conjures up in front of me. I ask a question myself, how difficult is it being a poor? Then, the arsenal of questions keeps bothering me that I wouldn’t like to answer. My consciousness starts to switch off, I transform to the character of poor. As a poor boy, I curse my parents for not giving the privilege to enjoy my childhood.

I toil every day at the factory made to stand for 9 hours a day and 6 days in a week while other rich kids same age as me get to enjoy themselves thoroughly. I get scolding, yelling, and even sometimes beating from seniors although I do my work properly. I do not know why is this happening to me? Why do people treat me with scant respect? Why did not my government provide free education? What is this English language? Why didn’t I get the same opportunities like others? When do I ever travel in air conditioned bus? When do I ever get to drive a car? When do I own my house? When do I shop freely? When do I sit on this glittering café shop near the factory and sip a coffee?  When do I dress neatly like others? When do I wear good shoes apart from safety shoes? Above all, when do I ever get married? My little happiness comes from my parents get a chance to eat because I send them money.

I live in a shanty house with some 10 people, located on the outskirts of city’s slum. Everybody who shares the house with me works from dawn to dusk has similar frustrations with life. To escape the daily vagaries of life, I spend my entire Sunday on entertainment. I play football with my colleagues from work. I adore romantic movies mainly because I don’t get a chance to romance in my real life. I wonder how the hero lives his life. I spend my Sunday sleep fantasizing about the escapist things of my life. Suddenly, I woke up from the slumber and realize I’m no poor boy in a poor country. I come to conclusion that solitude teaches many lessons and sometimes makes us, as a writer because we are no more bounded by constraints to imagine. We find answers to difficult questions of our life when we are alone. The debates start to ramble in our minds when we walk on the streets, listening to music mildly, lying on the beach and taking a nap. I did write this piece of blog when I was alone hence it is also reminiscent of my solitary mind.