The Game

Raman looked at his watch. Lunch was a few minutes away. No matter! A few minutes off work would hurt no one, especially not him. He came out of his room, and looked down the corridor. Three rooms down, he could see light through the glazed glass of the door. Debu had not left for lunch. Debu usually switched off the lights at lunchtime.

Without bothering to knock, he pushed the door open. Debu was having a few minutes respite from the slew of visitors before heading off for lunch. There were always visitors. That was unavoidable in this business. In a utility with so many transactions, with so much discretion and so little control, there were bound to be grievances.

While there were avenues for redressal, consumers did not feel satisfied until they met an officer sitting in a chamber. There were rebates to be allowed, part payments to be approved, delayed payments to be condoned and a whole lot of discretion to be used.

That was OK. In fact, it was more than OK.

“You got the message?”

“Yeah! Boss told me. About time! I have waited long enough. What with idiots bypassing me repeatedly? Anyway, better late than never.” Debu responded.

“But did he confirm the purpose?” Raman persisted. There had been too many disappointments in the past.

“No, he didn’t confirm. But what else can it be? We have worked hard enough. We are the senior-most. If they do not promote us now, when will they do it? After we retire?” Debu was always optimistic. Probably he was right too. Raman could not place anything else where both of them would be required together at the corporate office. Mukherjee, their Chief, was not one to summon people from the regional offices for chitchat.

“So we start at two? Can I take a lift with you?” Raman asked.

“Sure. In any case, I need to return home this way. Do we need to take anything along?”

“I will carry a notepad. Apart from that I can’t for the life of me think of anything else.”

“Done! Let’s meet downstairs at two.”

Raman usually had lunch in his room. Debu usually would have his at one of the many small restaurants nearby. As was his habit, he washed his hands and his face before having his lunch. His attendant would have placed his lunch box, plates and cutlery at his desk. A glass of water, and a bottle for supplementing the water, was also placed neatly; as would be a napkin on the arm of his chair.

One look inside was enough to confirm that things were as they should be. He smiled. Ranjan was a good attendant. He knew his boss well enough to know his needs and likes. He had served him long enough, but some attendants never learn. Ranjan was not one of them. Thank God!

He sat down to lunch. As he opened the containers of his lunch box, he smiled in satisfaction. His wife knew his gastronomic requirements and being an excellent cook helped her fulfil his passion for food. As he served himself, he felt that, unlike other days, his mind was not really in it. He was too excited to really concentrate on food now.

 It was a long waited promotion. Many a time, he had been sure that he would get his call for the promotion letter, but was disappointed. He hid his disappointment well and congratulated those who made it.

But inside, there was bitterness. He had worked hard. He had not been a trouble monger like a few others. He never refused a responsibility and more importantly, he never disagreed with his boss – a sure fire method to ensure a happy boss.

He was usually one to work beyond usual hours, He would often fill in for others when they were absent or when extra hands were required. He rarely took leave, a quality highly regarded by his boss.

However, he never really got the recognition that was due to him. He was bypassed repeatedly at the time of promotion. Though ne never expressed his disappointment, his boss understood. He always consoled him and reassured him that his time would come.

He could not provide any explanation as to why he had been bypassed, but Raman never doubted that his boss has tried his best. His boss was like that. A good though gullible man; good at heart and reasonable. But he was a lightweight. Mukherjee, the Chief, never took him seriously. Probably did not even hear a word when his boss pleaded Raman’s case.

Promotion was important. It was not as if the additional income that would accompany it really mattered, but the recognition and reassurance of his worth was something that Raman had looked forward to. Money, however insignificant the amount, was always welcome. Probably, the disappointments of the past few years would be soon erased.

It was good that theirs was a traditional organization. Many organizations would send a promotion letter in a sealed envelope and that was it. But here a lot of importance was laid on ceremony.

He knew that Mukherjee would accompany them to the chamber of Director Finance and formally introduce them. If he was in a good mood (and he usually wasn’t!), he would also speak about their good work and achievements. The DF would nod and smile in a paternal way and tea would be served in excellent china along with cookies (one would not dare to call them biscuits in the DF’s presence).

Then finally, DF would rise from his chair, shake hands with them and finally hand them their letters of promotion. They were expected to open the letter and go through it carefully, then and there.

The DF, a kindly man, would savour their expressions of happiness and mutter unintelligible words of appreciation and encouragement, which meant little and were soon forgotten. Even Mukherjee would congratulate them as he was expected to do. If he was in a good mood, they might even get a pat on their back, though it might be a little too much to expect from Mukherjee.

In stark contrast to the jovial nature of DF, Mukherjee was a naturally serious and grim person. There was a permanent frown on his face. Nobody ever recalled having seen him smile. It could be constipation, which he was rumored to be suffering from. It was also rumored that his wife’s recent heart attack was caused by seeing a hint of a smile on his face, one evening. This was probably nothing more than envy or idle chit chat.

Even his worst critics could not doubt his competence. He had risen to become the Chief Commercial Officer faster than anyone in the history of the organization by dint of competence and hard work. It was also clear that he would never become the Director Finance. He was just not politically correct enough for that position.

That position would go to the Chief of Finance who had the right demeanor; and even better connections! But Mukherjee did not mind. Probably he never even thought about it. He was just too absorbed in his own work.

Raman met Debu at two in the parking lot, as arranged. They reached the corporate office with time enough to quickly wash their faces and comb their hair. They had to look presentable. It was an important day. Sharp at three, they knocked on Mukherjee’s door and entered. Mukherjee was not alone. Rathin, the Head of HR was also there.

Both were looking grim. But that was not unusual. One dare not appear to be relaxed or happy in the presence of Mukherjee! Mukherjee waved to the two empty chairs and asked them to make themselves comfortable.

This was unusual. Usually you were not offered chairs in this chamber – you did not need to stay there long enough to sit. Mukherjee, not a man of many words, was usually brusque and to the point, often bordering on the edge of being insulting.

“Make yourself comfortable. How long you stay here depends on you. Would you like to tell us about your little game?” Mukherjee’s tone was ominous.

Both Raman and Debu were at a loss for words. What was this? Not the usual promotion interview, definitely!

“We have all the time in the world. Go ahead, go over your scheme. We are waiting for you to confirm what we already know. If you want to refute what we already know, you will need some very convincing facts to be able to do so. I doubt very much that you are in possession of any such facts. So, please tell us about your game. Everything! When it started, who else is involved, how many instances, the amounts involved…..the works!” Mukherjee’s voice was quiet but the menace was unambiguous. Rathin was quiet all along but observing them.

Debu and Raman were both looking down. Shocked by this turn of events, they did not even dare to look at each other. Each knew their game was up.

The future looked dark. They were unable to think. The bile rose up in Raman and he wanted to vomit. His lips were dry. He wanted to cry but somehow he was unable to move. There was an uncontrollable twitch in his left little finger. He could not stop it.

A voice was appearing to come from far away-“Do you realize what this means? Your careers are over. Hell! your life, as you know it, is over. Forget about money, think about your family. How will your wife respond to queries from your neighbors and relatives? Jail terms are not easy to explain away. What about the new car that you just bought? The payments due? About lawyers’ bills, the regular police visits. I want you to think about this, before you say something stupid.”

Raman realized he was actually hearing Mukherjee speak from across the table even though the voice seemed to come from far away.

Then there was silence.

Why doesn’t Debu say something?

He looked at Debu from the corner of his eye.

Debu seemed to have fallen apart. He had his face in his hands and was sobbing, though no sound was coming out of his throat. He had slumped down into his chair. It looked so demeaning to see a grown up man thus.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he would be looking no better. All this was unconscious thought.

Then there was another voice- “It need not be as bad. It is up to you. Co-operate and you may not have to go through all this. We may allow you to resign honorably. Of course, you will have to forgo your benefits and also return the money, but that is a small price to pay. Imagine! You will have a reasonable chance to start off all over again. No police, no lawyers, no courts, and no jail. All you have to do is give answers to all the questions that Sir asked. We could be free by evening. Sounds good?” This was Rathin.

Classic ploy!

Good cop, bad cop.

And it worked. Only question was who would break first. Debu or Raman? Rathin thought it would be Debu.

But Rathin was wrong. It was Raman who started speaking. The words tumbled over each other to come out. Probably Raman was the logical one and therefore able to come to terms with reality quicker. Debu was just too greedy and too stupid to think about consequences, ever. It was Raman who had done the planning, taken care of the meticulous details. Debu had hitched along for the ride on the gravy train.

He had formulated the plan nearly three years ago. He had always worked hard. He was also intelligent enough to understand the systems and more importantly the loopholes.

Computerization of services in India was being discussed but probably would take a few years to be implemented. So he reckoned that he had at least four to five years to make merry if things went all right.

He was in charge of the ledger postings for those cheques that some consumers deposited in the cheque collection boxes. The cheques had the consumer identification numbers written on the back. While he could not tamper with the front portion of the cheques, he could with the reverse but he needed an accomplice.

This is where Debu came into the picture. Debu was the person who entered the consumer identification numbers in the list that went to finance department for crediting the various payments.

Raman took care of the delayed and outstanding payments. He took care of the customers who came to him with these problems. Only those with large out standings! This suited his plans perfectly. 

Debu would segregate the high value cheques and hold them for a couple of days in consultation with Raman.

 If a consumer with a large outstanding amount came to him for resolution, he would negotiate the resolution and finally settled at an amount equivalent to one of the cheques that had held back.

This he said was the down payment that was acceptable to the utility. The balance amount would be accepted in a few installments as agreed upon by the customer.

Then he would come to the point on which the success of this scheme hinged. He would insist that the down payment had to be made in cash! Clearing of cheques took too much time to firm up this negotiated agreement and therefore only cash was accepted as down payment.

These negotiations would be scheduled close to the lunch break or near the end of the working day. This was crucial since the customer would go down to the cash counter with his written authorization to accept the part payment, but the cash counter would be closed at that time.

The customer would usually come back to him with this “news”. Like an excellent customer friendly executive Raman would offer to hold the cash and pay it when the cash counters reopened.

To assure the customer of his bonafide, he would issue a temporary receipt on a blank sheet with his sign and stamp. A majority of customers would take this bait in good faith. It was an unlucky break when someone did not, but that was how the game was played.

Once he had the cash, the game was set. He would pocket the cash, take out the matching cheque and carefully modify the customer identification number at the back.

This cheque would be sent to Debu (who was in on the scam) and the formalities of posting would be taken care of. A careful inspection of the back would easily reveal the tampering, but Debu would disregard it.

The present customer’s record of payment was now in order! Except that the records would show that the payment had been made by cheque, when in actual fact the payment was given to Raman in cash.

 

Now he second phase of the operation kicked in and this is where the duo used a loophole in the system.

 A month later the person who had actually deposited the cheque would receive a new bill without the cheque payment accounted for. He would verify the realization of this cheque against his bank’s pass book and would be relieved to find that the cheque had been realized.

Muttering to himself about the inefficiency of the utility, he would descend to the Utility office and be guided to Raman who would check the cheque number against his personal records.

If this cheque number was present in his scam records, he would apologize profusely, offer tea to the customer and go about setting the record straight.

He would take the customer to the Finance department and inform them that there had been a mistake in accounting for the credit of the cheque. 

As a proof he would present the customer’s pass book.

The finance clerk would check against the bill amount of the customer and the check realization records (which showed only the cheque number and the clearing date, but not the customer identification number) and manually credit the amount against the customer identification number of this customer. 

Since there was always a delay in transfer of records and the entries were manual, he would assume that the entry had been erroneously skipped or missed.

Thus one cheque served to post payment against two customers without anyone being any the wiser. The cash was split between Raman and Debu. To ensure that no suspicion was raised the frequency of such transactions was spaced out.

Both Mukherjee and Rathin were listening intently, Mukherjee nodding from time to time. He was happy to have discovered the flaw in the system.

There were further questions about the scam and especially about the number and details of the scam transactions. There were protracted negotiations about the recovery amount and this concluded only when Mukherjee was convinced that the scammers would not be able to pay any more.

Before they were let off for the day to close the matter of payment and resignations, Mukherjee asked them- “Would you not like to know how you were caught?”

Unable to speak, both the scammers just nodded.

“You remember the day you had taken leave last month? Well one of your “customers” whose cheque you had tampered turned up. Since you were not there he was directed to Dasgupta. You know Dasgupta. He is a bit like me- does not trust his own shadow.

He went to Finance Department with the Customer and after the usual checks the clerk decided to “regularize” the customer’s credit. But Dasgupta would not allow it.

He forced the clerk to dig out the old lists for cheque postings that Debu sends to them. He got the entry against the ID of the customer from whom you had taken the cash. Though he thought it was an entry error, he got the payment reversed.

The cash paying customer got his bill yesterday, and on seeing the reversal of his payment, he came to me today with the “temporary receipt” that you had issued to him.

And your game was up! So you see, as long as your attendance was perfect, you would have got away. Your absence for one day landed you in the net!!!”

Mukherjee broke his record.

He smiled!