The Invisible Weight of "Boss Pressure"
"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy." — Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
The greatest impediment to the enforcement of rules, regulations, and discipline is a phenomenon I call "Boss Pressure." No organization is an exception—be it the banking industry, governing bodies, or law enforcement. We see it even in the highest administrative levels, where officials sometimes prefer facing a "contempt of court" charge rather than disregarding the weight of a superior's demand.
In banking, this "evil" filters down from the Chairman to the sub-staff. The tragedy is that the truth is often an open secret, yet remains un-provable. Most players in this game are both victims and perpetrators. While I could not eliminate this phenomenon, I made it my mission to avoid being a perpetrator. I always advised my juniors: "Arm yourselves with the rules. Guard against oral instructions, for they are deadly—carrying them out, or refusing to, can both cause agonizing pain."
The Ahmedabad Adjustment
My first major encounter with this pressure occurred when I took over a key branch in Ahmedabad. The manager I replaced had become my direct superior. He had reached his targets through "window dressing"—artificial accounting entries—and had been rewarded with a promotion.
Because he knew I understood his "adjustments," he pressured me to reach even higher targets to cover the inevitable shortfall when those artificial deposits fell back. When I couldn't bridge the gap, he sent word through an emissary: I should raise an imaginary debit of nearly four crore rupees to a branch in Delhi and "correct" it later. I refused to create a fictitious transaction. Consequently, I missed my target, was insulted, and eventually transferred. I swallowed that lump of insult and moved on, keeping my conscience intact.
The Land Development Trap
Later, as a Senior Manager, I found myself again under a former manager who had become the Regional Manager. He was a fierce "go-getter," but a major setback arrived involving a Land Development Bank. They had been granted an illegal interest rate—2% above the RBI limit—before I took over. When an RBI audit discovered the violation, they ordered the bank to recover the excess interest immediately.
My boss, fearing for his upcoming promotion, demanded I recover the money. When the client refused, he sent an assistant to brief me on a "solution": I was to debit the Suspense Account—the most scrutinized account in the bank—to issue a banker's cheque to the client, who would then "refund" the money to us. It was a blatant falsification of records. I decided to face the wrath of my boss rather than commit a crime. The blow was fatal; my confidential report was sabotaged, and I was omitted from the selection panel—a "miss" that cost me three years of my career.
The Final Coin: The Selection Panel
Years later, as a General Manager at the Head Office, I faced this pressure one last time. I was heading a selection panel for a prestigious post. A message came from the "Boss’s Aide": a certain Mr. X must be promoted to appease a Union President. While other panelists gave Mr. X generous marks, I awarded him five out of twenty. When pressured to change my score, I was asked, "Is that five out of ten or twenty?" "It is out of pity," I replied.
I was warned I would be "repaid in the same coin." Indeed, when I appeared for my empanelment as Executive Director (ED), a negative confidential report and a technicality regarding age eligibility—compounded by the earlier delays in my career—did me in. I lost the post of ED at that time, and consequently the chance at a CMD post
The Will of a Higher Boss
Looking back, I realize that the "pressure of man" was often the will of a Higher Power. During that forced "extended period" before my eventual promotion to ED at Vijaya Bank, I was able to handle vital personal matters, including my father’s final days and other legal work.
I ended my career as an Executive Director rather than a Chairman, but I retired with something far more valuable: a conscience without thorns. Looking back, the delay in my promotion was a small price to pay for the peace of mind that followed. I learned that the most difficult "No" is often the most necessary one. Ultimately, being exonerated by one's own conscience is a far more important reward than any title or designation.