Pawan Verma
I have always been fond of handling figures. Figures of speech, I mean. But when it comes to handling accounting figures I draw a complete blank. Some 15 years ago, when I was recruited for my present managerial job, I was one of the few in a group of 60, who constantly challenged the patience of our accounts professor – a chartered accountant of repute – who had taken upon himself the task of teaching us the “Double Entry” accounting system. We were not sure whether it was his way of showing his superiority or a source of sadistic pleasure, but every time we would say an account was to be debited, he would insist otherwise and would end up saying “I can take a horse to water but…..”
I sincerely believe that accounting is a simple job made difficult by chartered accountants to keep themselves in business. Old-time accountants say that there used to be the ‘Single Entry’ accounting system earlier. But people started learning it very fast. Hence the “Double Entry” system was developed by some chartered accountants.
Time rolled on and our five months’ theoretical training was followed by another five months of rigorous on-the-job training. Back to the college for a two-month refresher course, things were no better. So, in his final lecture, the professor condescendingly told me, “Don’t worry Pawan, I will give you a clue. Whenever you are faced with the question whether to ‘credit’ an account or ‘debit’ it, decide the matter from your common sense and then act against it. I’m sure, you will never be wrong.”
“If that was so, why did you waste your one previous year teaching me accounts?” I responded. But not to be outwitted, he was ready with an answer. “How else Pawan, would you have known the limits of your mental powers?”
Well, every dog has his day and I had mine. It was our farewell function at the training college. The chairman graced the occasion. Our accounts professor was again at his best. This time giving us a lecture on “Managers in shop floor situations.” He also managed the questions at the end, in his familiar witty style. Unfortunately for me, my first question was just cut out for him. His witty reply not only floored me completely but evoked laughter and applause from the audience as well. But determined to avenge myself, I was not to be outwitted this time. So, very innocently I got up and said, “Sir, I forget the second question you told me to ask.”
There was a deafening silence followed by roaring laughter. For the first time I had found the witty professor at his wits’ end. I don’t know how much was debited or credited to my career-account, but I was sure I had settled my accounts with the professor.
