There were two gentlemen in the room—very sharply dressed in shirts and ties and with shiny BlackBerrys on the table. The very sight of the gleaming Berrys—that’s what all the bankers and corporate types call them—made my heart race and my pulse pound. For a brief moment I imagined myself sitting in my office at JPM and typing a very professional message on my own Berry: ‘Okay. We will buy General Motors in all cash …’ or something like that.

They asked me to wait a second till a colleague joined them. I sat quietly in my chair, looking at them while they fiddled with their Berrys.

Ten seconds later the third member of the group walked in.

And at that moment I knew that my immediate future as a young management professional would probably not involve toiling in the venerable corridors of JP Morgan and earning obscenely large salaries in a foreign currency.

The third member on the panel was the same girl whom I had accosted at the water cooler and asked to pour water over my head. I tried to make a little joke of it by smiling at her and smoothing my hair down. She looked at me with eyes like those of a black widow spider about to eat its mate.

They asked me a few questions about my résumé and then invited me to talk about the state of the global economy. While I spoke, the lady passed around a small sheet of paper. The gentlemen looked at it, then at me and then at each other. Then at me again. And then at my hair.

I made a little joke about inflation being a serious problem for ‘both the Economy and Mahima Choudhury!’ which was followed by laughter. Mostly my own.

The JPM people wished me best of luck and asked me to leave. As I left I heard laughter. When Pathak asked me how I did, I told him I answered everything and I felt positive.

I actually did.

Humour, Prof. Kumar had told us in our interview techniques lectures, was a powerful way to shine in an interview. Had it been good enough to get me a second round with JPM? Only time would tell.

I walked back to the pool mildly optimistic and waited for my next call: McKinsey & Co. Prince among recruiters, king among consultants, er … emperor among employers. Half the people in the institute would give an arm and perhaps a leg to be shortlisted by McKinsey & Co.

But not me.

I, Robin ‘Einstein’ Varghese, merely had to submit my résumé with full academic qualifications and the shortlist came looking for me. After all I was ranked forty-first in the batch. As I sat waiting for Shashank to shout the magic words—‘Einstein! McKinsey needs you right now!’—I mentally patted myself on the back and tried to think of all the possible questions they might throw at me. These consulting interviews could be tricky.

I focussed and went into a somewhat zen-like state.