An Amateur's Arrogance #ATOZCHALLENGE – A (2026)

Sandeep Sharma walked in chuffed with entitlement into his father's cabin. His expression wore suppressed hostility and a sense of disapproval from the get-go. The first button of his shirt was undone, providing a sneak-peak into a well waxed chest. He wanted it to be seen, a sign of his misplaced swagger. The button would never meet the eye for that day. His slick black hair was thrown on his face like a mullet. He pushed it behind with a black hairband, branded and expensive beyond rationality. His mullet made a puff just above his forehead. The mosaic on his designer shirt looked asymmetrical and complicated. His fair complexion and broad rimmed smart glasses sat on his bulbous nose, his eyes were narrow and dismissive, like walking into the workplace had been the forced chore of the day. The crisp blazer and trousers, matching in hue, looked dark and murky as he might unfold to be. The make of an unheard of Italian brand that rhymed with Ferrari. His cufflinks were Swarowski, something that one never saw senior Sharmaji wearing ever.

Most of the staff suppressed their annoyance at an attire too over-the-top for a regular workday in a mid-sized firm. It was in sharp contrast to the crisp button down pastel shirts and creased trousers that Sharmaji senior often wore, sans blazer. But in Sandeep's head all would look an appreciate his power dressing. They had to! A surge of authority rose from his lungs and he exhaled long and hard. “These people will have to listen to me from today. My father has given them way too much leeway.”

The biometric authentication failed and he began cussing at technology's inadvertent faux pas. It should just not have happened. It’s faulty and needs replacement with something less troublesome. Impatience and intolerance competed to rent more space in his head.

“Did you register your biometrics with the security yesterday?” asked Mr. Sharma senior, his voice full of concern at the stalling of things.

“Why this unnecessary protocol?” rebuked the dismissive son.

Because security is so by design. The dad said to himself in exasperated silence.

“Sorry son, but you’ll have to wait till Vohraji arrives and register your biometrics. Till then, let me escort you in.”

“Yes, whatever. Waste of time.”

Sharmaji senior didn’t have to apologise for this. The receptionist thought this with an eyeroll as she trailed behind the two men. Be sorry for firstly raising this brainless brat, and then for bringing him here to your sweatshop. This guy wants airconditioning before he even perspires. I deal with gazillion walk-in people in a day and I exactly know the kind who will ruin my mood.

Senior Sharmaji turned instantly with a compassionate look. “All fine, Trina?”

Returning a well-practiced and idiot-proof infectious smile back at both the Sharmas in a strategic move, Trina replied, “All is fantastic sirs, hope you are well too.”

Sharmaji Senior smiled. Junior pretended to be too important to even listen. Trina wanted popcorn so badly because of the goings-on. She escorted them in and went back to her seat getting on with daily tasks.

The elderly gentleman looked congenial and warm, his hair greyed from the tests and turmoil he endured from the time he started the firm in his one-bedroom home. His four siblings would look on, inspired, aspirational and a bit dejected at having to hush down their clamour. In the 9-5 of the day, they couldn't demand their favourite food or even their toys from the mother who seldom ventured out of the kitchen. The gentleman had seen his siblings in hand-me-downs, his mother with calloused palms even in her 30's, and his father who worked more than he should have to manage a family that was bigger than he wanted. He wanted to change this so badly that his sole objective became bettering their financial standing. And the gifted gentleman certainly got his due. His hard work and dedication led them into enviable abundance.

Sandeep grew up getting whatever he wanted. And hence, valued nothing.

In the days to follow, his leadership style would be authoritative. He would be dismissive of inputs even from clients and would have this air of superiority over having a foreign degree. He would always feel he knew better. Ego would begin governing decisions.

So, questioning him meant not having the IQ for your job.

Proposing a change meant you’ve fallen out of line and need to be put in place.

Disagreement meant you had way too much attitude for his liking.

Proposing innovation meant you were just out of work and needed some more load.

The by product became a bunch of bootlicking lackeys who began to gain prominence over those whom the Sharmaji senior had cherry-picked on the basis of merit.

The room reeked frustration that knew no recourse. The meritorious began to fumble. The new boss hated them anyways so mistakes began to prove costly.

“I want to meet Mr. Ajitesh Sharmaji. I am appalled at his faulty hiring. Who is this Sandeep by the way?”  A distressed client spoke with Satish, who was an early loyal of Sharmaji senior. Lean and close to six feet tall, he looked like the simple boy next door in a striped shirt and dark pants, auburn hair neatly trimmed and aviator spectacles with reflective glass to protect him from long hours before the screens. Creases were as absent as errors in his work. The smile was that of a loyal employee wanting to hold the fort for his employer at all times.

“Please let it be madame. We’ll resolve your issue.” Satish beckoned apologetically, carefully weighing his words. A person in anger could easily misquote his compulsive catharsis of redressal resulting from painfully ignoring Sandeep.

“That chair in the cabin should have been yours, Satish, had Mr. ‘A’ Sharma not been so close-minded. And if this dimwit is even a wee bit capable, he should consider getting himself a job out of his father’s aegis.” 

Satish watched on in numb silence. He could neither agree nor disagree. His loyalty to Mr. A. Sharma ensured his silence. His sense of empathy for the client made him lower his eyes in slight regret.

The client left. Satish took to his work and got around with the day’s tasks diligently as though Ajiteshji were still watching with gratitude and pride, his kind expression being the best reward any loyal employee could ever get.

Sandeep was still debating about how difficult the client was not having managed to even finish his basic checks and balances. Of course that was the client’s fault. She triggered the conflict. She ruined his schedule. How was anything ever his fault?

Trina offered Satish his favourite tea.

“Someday, you will get your due, brother. And so will he. Someday.”  Trina hoped Satish would grow a spine. His silence was even more painful than Sandeep’s uncivil rambling.

 “An amateur’s arrogance is like a hidden corpse,” she added. “The nauseatingly rancid odour will be a giveaway.”

She patted his shoulder and went to her desk. Yet again, the aura of Ajiteshji, Satish’s first boss and only mentor, warranted only silence and holding up the bar he had set for him from the first day.