It felt less like a communication workshop and more a session on psychoanalysis. “DISC,” said the India head of the recruitment firm for which I work, “is a model of behaviour that divides the human population into four distinct types — Dominance, Influence, Steadiness and Conscientiousness.” We, the trainees, were transfixed. This was going to be exciting. After pulling our hair out mugging up the IT tools, now came the part when we’d try and locate ourselves along various axes and cock a snook at the behaviourally challenged.
One moment. This was serious. The DISC is not who you are, we were told – thankfully, because all of us are all four, depending on the day – but how you communicate. Dominance is marked out in the active seeking of facts and figures that helps such types quickly make up their minds. Influence, believe it or not, represents those who like things chirpy and positive. Steadfast are rather morose, but also empathetic, and Conscientious are the ones who get into details but hate physical touch (don’t ask!).
Our superboss (we are mere consultants and our bosses report to her) projected a giant slide on the screen and started writing names next to each type. X is this, Y that, Z the third and so on, she pointed out, and left us both awed and cowed. “When you meet clients,” she elaborated, “make sure you are smart enough to pick which quadrant they fall into and customise your presentation accordingly. The better you customise, the better your research will be and the better the offers that you pass on.”
“This works for candidates too,” she added. “I am Type D. I can’t be bothered with details. So if I come looking for a job with you, you should be nimble-footed enough to sell me a grand idea and not get into the nitty-gritties. Right?”
We nodded eagerly (she is silver-tongued). But all behaviour models, my specialisation in HR reminded me, are, at best, approximations. Of all bodies of knowledge, human behaviour must be the most intractable. Defining, let alone limiting, it is fraught with peril.
And how. A senior consultant who sits next to me is a brilliant people reader. He has a calming influence on harried souls, is always crisply dressed and his conversations on the phone, which I duly overhear, are lessons in tackling errant candidates. A deal that he has been working on for six months has stubbornly desisted closure because the client refuses to pay as much as the candidate’s current CTC. Reason cited: “We are a premier electronics/electrical engineering player. He should be grateful for the opportunity.”
That word: Grateful. Very tricky, especially in my business. Sure, the candidate’s current employer is no great shakes, but gratitude for shifting? I wanted to barf. My neighbour, a pillar of discretion, politely said: “Sure, but I don’t think this will work. You know, extending such an offer for a senior candidate might not be so great for your reputation either.”
Two days later, an offer was made. Same pay as current employer, plus an appraisal in six months. And, oh, an 18 per cent commission for my neighbour. Now that’s smart work.
That brings the discussion back to my learning curve. It’s tough looking over a room full of people regularly filling in revenue figures that run into lakhs on a prominent, centrally-placed white board, when all you do is learn the four Cs of communication (a clear discrepancy with the seven we were taught in B-school) and three, no six, types of useless questions. (I kid you not: From “assumption-laden” such as “So how is your sector dealing with the global slump in production?” to plain judgemental, viz, “Jeez, what were you thinking changing six jobs in three years?”)
I carry on. This is the calm before the storm, our seniors whisper in hushed tones. “Enjoy the training while it lasts. You won’t get time to breathe once you get into BD, [short for business development].” As a fairly new entrant in the market, we are still a very young business, peopled by 20- and 30-somethings. A host of new faces join every other week and the atmosphere remains buoyant and fun. By the way, I am a fun-loving, “people’s person” and won’t let no model tell me otherwise. My boss thinks I am an S, and my super boss thinks my boss is S too. I don’t know why but I don’t like the sound of that one bit.
The author has switched too many jobs in the past and hopes he can hold down this one
