The Stone and The Sculptor

2016

Neatly ironed formal wear. A pair of sparkling business shoes clacked rhythmically on the tiles. And a clean-shaven face to complete the look.

That's how every candidate arrives at the office for an interview.

But Manickam(name changed) walked into the office with looks that were totally against my expectations. That's certainly not the first impression you would want to make.

Nevertheless, I didn't know that he would teach me a valuable HR lesson. That a resume didn't matter much. Prior work experience–or the absence of one–didn't matter much.

It was the sheer willpower of a person in building a career from the scratch and on his own that mattered the most.

This story is certainly the most special in my 10+ years of HR journey. And that's the reason I wanted to narrate this one among many others.

I can still recall every detail of that day as if it happened not so long ago.

Manickam was wearing a checkered dark blue shirt and sandal pants. His rubber slipper clapped loudly on the ground as he walked. The shirt was hanging loosely over his waist. A strict interviewer would have pegged him as "untidy."

However, neither an HR nor an interviewer would readily eliminate the candidate solely based on looks. So, I formally received his greetings and told him to tuck in his shirt to look more professional for an interview.

It was not an act of disdain but pure concern for him. I wanted him to get the job. There was a reason why I wanted him to get this job so badly.

He smiled like a student would do when a teacher playfully scolded him. Then he turned back and went in the direction of the restroom.

I thought about the phone call we had the previous day. Manickam was referred to by one of the staff at my office for the support role.

I called him once I had his number.

He spoke gently and went on narrating about his previous job at an oil mill, and he had to find another job since it closed down due to poor business.

"So, how are you supporting your parents at home in this situation?" I asked him.

He was silent for a bit. As if to properly put whatever thoughts he had in order–or to say something else that might not reveal the true story.

Then he spoke. He tried to keep his voice in the same gentleman manner he had talked earlier, yet slight shivers crept in this time.

 "Actually, sir… I am an orphan. My father died when I was young. My mother single-handedly took care of me, but that was also for a short time because… She… She…"

 I heard him take a deep breath on the phone.

 "She became mentally challenged and left me alone. She went missing, and I haven't been able to locate her. Some good-hearted neighbors put me in an orphanage where I grew up until I became an adult. From then on, it was me alone. Only me."

I didn't know it wasn't the whole story back then. Yet, at that time, I could only offer words of encouragement. It was the reason I wanted Manickam to get this job.

The loud, echoing clap of his slippers brought me back to the present. He came back from the restroom looking a little better than before. Shirt tucked. Face washed. Hair combed and a bright smile decorating his face.

With that decent look, he finished the interview with the Interviewer. When I went to get the candidate feedback, he agreed to give the job to Manickam.

"But, do a background check before you release the offer." He said with a cautionary glance.

Then my HR role extended to that of a detective.

First on the list was the orphanage he grew up in. I called them and got positive feedback.

Next on the list was the owner of the oil mill where he worked. He also gave positive feedback but…

"Sir, he's a well-mannered boy. But recently…" His voice became secretive.

"He drank poison, sir. I was the one who admitted him to the hospital. Luckily, nothing happened. I just wanted to say that, sir. I don't know what made him do that. Maybe because of his sudden unemployment. Well, I feel sad for him, sir. Hope he gets a good job at your company."

I ended the call. I stared blankly ahead at a loss for words.

He drank poison, sir.

His father died. His mother–struggling with mental health–went missing. He missed the better part of his childhood at the orphanage. The oil mill abruptly closed down, leaving him with no job. He had no family to share good days and bad days.  

Everything had pushed him to open up the bottle and down the sour liquid of death. Maybe he thought his struggles and his pain would stop. At least he would be with the Gods.

He drank poison, sir.

Yet he smiled. He showed the will to build his own life even though he fell. His life was shapeless. It was like a blank stone. But, he became his own sculptor and turned all the pain into skillful blows of the chisel to make the shapeless stone into an admirable sculpture.

So, I skipped the part about his attempted suicide in the feedback to the higher-ups and got him the job.

2023

Manickam now wears a neat formal and professional look. His slippers don't clap noisily anymore as he now wears formal shoes. He takes care of all the support duties at the office with utmost sincerity and leads four team members.

In his past life, he depended on others. Now, others are dependent on him.

Everything changed for him except his WILL POWER to keep fighting.

If I had decided not to move forward with his job after what the oil mill owner told me, the company and I would have lost a valuable human being who built a self-sufficient life from scratch.

"The sculptor now stands back and looks at his own sculpture with awe".

சிறு புள்ளும் பூமியை பிளந்து வரும். அதற்கு ஒரு துளி மழை பெய்தாலே போதும்.