Enjoy and think about the attached ppt called THE PARADOX OF OUR TIMES. Regards sundarjayram.
From India, Bhubaneswar
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8From India, Bhubaneswar
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Wonderful presentation, my dear friend. I had seen this earlier as well, but such presentations are always good for "action replay." It reminds me of an industrialist named Jagdish Parikh who said, "Are you living for business (business fool) or are you in the business of living (busy with fulfillment)?"
The problem is that despite "Wise men learn from the mistakes of others, fools from their own," this mistake is repeated by many in the next generation.
Here is the best example of all, the story of one of America's greatest Industrialists, John D. Rockefeller. Though I could have given only relevant extracts, this story is so good and the issue so important that I am tempted to give the whole story. I had read it for the first time in the year 1979, from Dale Carnegie's "How to Stop Worrying and Start Living."
John D. Rockefeller, Sr., had accumulated his first million at the age of thirty-three. At the age of forty-three, he had built up the largest monopoly the world has ever seen - the great Standard Oil Company. But where was he at fifty-three? Worry had gotten to him at fifty-three. Worry and high-tension living had already wrecked his health. At fifty-three he "looked like a mummy," says John K. Winkler, one of his biographers.
At fifty-three, Rockefeller was attacked by mystifying digestive maladies that swept away his hair, even the eyelashes and all but a faint wisp of eyebrow. "So serious was his condition," says Winkler, "that at one time John D. was compelled to exist on human milk." According to the doctors, he had alopecia, a form of baldness that often starts with sheer nerves. He looked so startling, with his stark bald dome, that he had to wear a skullcap. Later, he had wigs made - $500 apiece - and for the rest of his life, he wore these silver wigs.
Rockefeller had originally been blessed with an iron constitution. Reared on a farm, he had once had stalwart shoulders, an erect carriage, and a strong, brisk gait.
Yet at only fifty-three - when most men are at their prime - his shoulders drooped and he shambled when he walked. "When he looked in a glass," says John T. Flynn, another of his biographers, "he saw an old man. The ceaseless work, the endless worry, the streams of abuse, the sleepless nights, and the lack of exercise and rest" had exacted their toll; they had brought him to his knees. He was now the richest man in the world; yet he had to live on a diet that a pauper would have scorned. His income at the time was a million dollars a week - but two dollars a week would probably have paid for all the food he could eat. Acidulated milk and a few biscuits were all the doctors would allow him. His skin had lost its color - it looked like old parchment drawn tight across his bones. And nothing but medical care, the best money could buy, kept him from dying at the age of fifty-three.
How did it happen? Worry. Shock. High-pressure and high-tension living. He "drove" himself literally to the edge of the grave. Even at the age of twenty-three, Rockefeller was already pursuing his goal with such grim determination that, according to those who knew him, "nothing lightened his countenance save news of a good bargain."
When he made a big profit, he would do a little war dance, throw his hat on the floor, and break into a jig. But if he lost money, he was ill! He once shipped $40,000 worth of grain by way of the Great Lakes. No insurance. It cost too much: $150. That night a vicious storm raged over Lake Erie. Rockefeller was so worried about losing his cargo that when his partner, George Gardner, reached the office in the morning, he found John D. Rockefeller there, pacing the floor.
"Hurry," he quavered. "Let's see if we can take out insurance now, if it isn't too late!" Gardner rushed uptown and got the insurance; but when he returned to the office, he found John D. in an even worse state of nerves. A telegram had arrived in the meantime: the cargo had landed, safe from the storm. He was sicker than ever now because they had "wasted" the $150! In fact, he was so sick about it that he had to go home and take to his bed. Think of it! At that time, his firm was doing gross business of $500,000 a year - yet he made himself so ill over $150 that he had to go to bed.
He had no time for play, no time for recreation, no time for anything except making money and teaching Sunday school. When his partner, George Gardner, purchased a second-hand yacht, with three other men, for $2,000, John D. was aghast, refused to go out in it. Gardner found him working at the office one Saturday afternoon, and pleaded: "Come on, John, let's go for a sail. It will do you good. Forget about business. Have a little fun." Rockefeller glared. "George Gardner," he warned, "you are the most extravagant man I ever knew. You are injuring your credit at the banks - and my credit too. First thing you know, you'll be wrecking our business. No, I won't go on your yacht - I don't ever want to see it!" And he stayed plugging in the office all Saturday afternoon.
The same lack of humor, the same lack of perspective, characterized John D. all through his business career. Years later he said: "I never placed my head upon the pillow at night without reminding myself that my success might be only temporary."
With millions at his command, he never put his head upon his pillow without worrying about losing his fortune. No wonder worry wrecked his health. He had no time for play or recreation, never went to the theater, never played cards, never went to a party. As Mark Hanna said, the man was mad about money. "Sane in every other respect, but mad about money." Rockefeller had once confessed to a neighbor in Cleveland, Ohio, that he "wanted to be loved"; yet he was so cold and suspicious that few people even liked him. Morgan once balked at having to do business with him at all. "I don't like the man," he snorted. "I don't want to have any dealings with him." Rockefeller's own brother hated him so much that he removed his children's bodies from the family plot. "No one of my blood," he said, "will ever rest in land controlled by John D." Rockefeller's employees and associates lived in holy fear of him, and here is the ironic part: he was afraid of them - afraid they would talk outside the office and "give secrets away."
He had so little faith in human nature that once, when he signed a ten-year contract with an independent refiner, he made the man promise not to tell anyone, not even his wife! "Shut your mouth and run your business" - that was his motto. Then at the very peak of his prosperity, with gold flowing into his coffers like hot yellow lava pouring down the sides of Vesuvius, his private world collapsed. Books and articles denounced the robber-baron war of the Standard Oil Company! - secret rebates with railroads, the ruthless crashing of all rivals. In the oil fields of Pennsylvania, John D. Rockefeller was the most hated man on earth. He was hanged in effigy by the men he had crushed. Many of them longed to tie a rope around his withered neck and hang him to the limb of a sour-apple tree. Letters breathing fire and brimstone poured into his office - letters threatening his life.
He hired bodyguards to keep his enemies from killing him. He attempted to ignore this cyclone of hate. He had once said cynically: "You may kick me and abuse me provided you will let me have my own way." But he discovered that he was human after all. He couldn't take hate - and worry too. His health began to crack. He was puzzled and bewildered by this new enemy - illness - which attacked him from within. At first "he remained secretive about his occasional indispositions," tried to put his illness out of his mind. But insomnia, indigestion, and the loss of his hair - all physical symptoms of worry and collapse - were not to be denied. Finally, his doctors told him the shocking truth. He could take his choice: his money and his worries - or his life. They warned him he must either retire or die. He retired. But before he retired, worry, greed, fear had already wrecked his health.
When Ida Tarbell, America's most celebrated female writer of biographies, saw him, she was shocked. She wrote: "An awful age was in his face. He was the oldest man I have ever seen." Old? Why, Rockefeller was then several years younger than General MacArthur was when he recaptured the Philippines! But he was such a physical wreck that Ida Tarbell pitied him. She was working at that time on her powerful book which condemned the Standard Oil and all that it stood for; she certainly had no cause to love the man who had built up this "octopus". Yet, she said that when she saw John D. Rockefeller teaching a Sunday-school class, eagerly watching the faces of all those around him - "I had a feeling which I had not expected, and which time intensified. I was sorry for him. I know no companion so terrible as fear."
When the doctors undertook to save Rockefeller's life,
From India, New Delhi
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The problem is that despite "Wise men learn from the mistakes of others, fools from their own," this mistake is repeated by many in the next generation.
Here is the best example of all, the story of one of America's greatest Industrialists, John D. Rockefeller. Though I could have given only relevant extracts, this story is so good and the issue so important that I am tempted to give the whole story. I had read it for the first time in the year 1979, from Dale Carnegie's "How to Stop Worrying and Start Living."
John D. Rockefeller, Sr., had accumulated his first million at the age of thirty-three. At the age of forty-three, he had built up the largest monopoly the world has ever seen - the great Standard Oil Company. But where was he at fifty-three? Worry had gotten to him at fifty-three. Worry and high-tension living had already wrecked his health. At fifty-three he "looked like a mummy," says John K. Winkler, one of his biographers.
At fifty-three, Rockefeller was attacked by mystifying digestive maladies that swept away his hair, even the eyelashes and all but a faint wisp of eyebrow. "So serious was his condition," says Winkler, "that at one time John D. was compelled to exist on human milk." According to the doctors, he had alopecia, a form of baldness that often starts with sheer nerves. He looked so startling, with his stark bald dome, that he had to wear a skullcap. Later, he had wigs made - $500 apiece - and for the rest of his life, he wore these silver wigs.
Rockefeller had originally been blessed with an iron constitution. Reared on a farm, he had once had stalwart shoulders, an erect carriage, and a strong, brisk gait.
Yet at only fifty-three - when most men are at their prime - his shoulders drooped and he shambled when he walked. "When he looked in a glass," says John T. Flynn, another of his biographers, "he saw an old man. The ceaseless work, the endless worry, the streams of abuse, the sleepless nights, and the lack of exercise and rest" had exacted their toll; they had brought him to his knees. He was now the richest man in the world; yet he had to live on a diet that a pauper would have scorned. His income at the time was a million dollars a week - but two dollars a week would probably have paid for all the food he could eat. Acidulated milk and a few biscuits were all the doctors would allow him. His skin had lost its color - it looked like old parchment drawn tight across his bones. And nothing but medical care, the best money could buy, kept him from dying at the age of fifty-three.
How did it happen? Worry. Shock. High-pressure and high-tension living. He "drove" himself literally to the edge of the grave. Even at the age of twenty-three, Rockefeller was already pursuing his goal with such grim determination that, according to those who knew him, "nothing lightened his countenance save news of a good bargain."
When he made a big profit, he would do a little war dance, throw his hat on the floor, and break into a jig. But if he lost money, he was ill! He once shipped $40,000 worth of grain by way of the Great Lakes. No insurance. It cost too much: $150. That night a vicious storm raged over Lake Erie. Rockefeller was so worried about losing his cargo that when his partner, George Gardner, reached the office in the morning, he found John D. Rockefeller there, pacing the floor.
"Hurry," he quavered. "Let's see if we can take out insurance now, if it isn't too late!" Gardner rushed uptown and got the insurance; but when he returned to the office, he found John D. in an even worse state of nerves. A telegram had arrived in the meantime: the cargo had landed, safe from the storm. He was sicker than ever now because they had "wasted" the $150! In fact, he was so sick about it that he had to go home and take to his bed. Think of it! At that time, his firm was doing gross business of $500,000 a year - yet he made himself so ill over $150 that he had to go to bed.
He had no time for play, no time for recreation, no time for anything except making money and teaching Sunday school. When his partner, George Gardner, purchased a second-hand yacht, with three other men, for $2,000, John D. was aghast, refused to go out in it. Gardner found him working at the office one Saturday afternoon, and pleaded: "Come on, John, let's go for a sail. It will do you good. Forget about business. Have a little fun." Rockefeller glared. "George Gardner," he warned, "you are the most extravagant man I ever knew. You are injuring your credit at the banks - and my credit too. First thing you know, you'll be wrecking our business. No, I won't go on your yacht - I don't ever want to see it!" And he stayed plugging in the office all Saturday afternoon.
The same lack of humor, the same lack of perspective, characterized John D. all through his business career. Years later he said: "I never placed my head upon the pillow at night without reminding myself that my success might be only temporary."
With millions at his command, he never put his head upon his pillow without worrying about losing his fortune. No wonder worry wrecked his health. He had no time for play or recreation, never went to the theater, never played cards, never went to a party. As Mark Hanna said, the man was mad about money. "Sane in every other respect, but mad about money." Rockefeller had once confessed to a neighbor in Cleveland, Ohio, that he "wanted to be loved"; yet he was so cold and suspicious that few people even liked him. Morgan once balked at having to do business with him at all. "I don't like the man," he snorted. "I don't want to have any dealings with him." Rockefeller's own brother hated him so much that he removed his children's bodies from the family plot. "No one of my blood," he said, "will ever rest in land controlled by John D." Rockefeller's employees and associates lived in holy fear of him, and here is the ironic part: he was afraid of them - afraid they would talk outside the office and "give secrets away."
He had so little faith in human nature that once, when he signed a ten-year contract with an independent refiner, he made the man promise not to tell anyone, not even his wife! "Shut your mouth and run your business" - that was his motto. Then at the very peak of his prosperity, with gold flowing into his coffers like hot yellow lava pouring down the sides of Vesuvius, his private world collapsed. Books and articles denounced the robber-baron war of the Standard Oil Company! - secret rebates with railroads, the ruthless crashing of all rivals. In the oil fields of Pennsylvania, John D. Rockefeller was the most hated man on earth. He was hanged in effigy by the men he had crushed. Many of them longed to tie a rope around his withered neck and hang him to the limb of a sour-apple tree. Letters breathing fire and brimstone poured into his office - letters threatening his life.
He hired bodyguards to keep his enemies from killing him. He attempted to ignore this cyclone of hate. He had once said cynically: "You may kick me and abuse me provided you will let me have my own way." But he discovered that he was human after all. He couldn't take hate - and worry too. His health began to crack. He was puzzled and bewildered by this new enemy - illness - which attacked him from within. At first "he remained secretive about his occasional indispositions," tried to put his illness out of his mind. But insomnia, indigestion, and the loss of his hair - all physical symptoms of worry and collapse - were not to be denied. Finally, his doctors told him the shocking truth. He could take his choice: his money and his worries - or his life. They warned him he must either retire or die. He retired. But before he retired, worry, greed, fear had already wrecked his health.
When Ida Tarbell, America's most celebrated female writer of biographies, saw him, she was shocked. She wrote: "An awful age was in his face. He was the oldest man I have ever seen." Old? Why, Rockefeller was then several years younger than General MacArthur was when he recaptured the Philippines! But he was such a physical wreck that Ida Tarbell pitied him. She was working at that time on her powerful book which condemned the Standard Oil and all that it stood for; she certainly had no cause to love the man who had built up this "octopus". Yet, she said that when she saw John D. Rockefeller teaching a Sunday-school class, eagerly watching the faces of all those around him - "I had a feeling which I had not expected, and which time intensified. I was sorry for him. I know no companion so terrible as fear."
When the doctors undertook to save Rockefeller's life,
From India, New Delhi
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It is really a great and wonderful presentation. I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to Mr. Rajan. In fact, your presentation has helped me make a firm decision about my career shift. Today, I am a very busy banker, with no time to spend with my people. Always "the boss is right" policy, no time to talk to my people, and at the same time, no great money, at least. Only tensions, mental agony, and working for more than 13 hours a day, with no job satisfaction. (My boss is very satisfied with my work, which has actually become a major worry for me). Frequent transfers in the name of policy and always tough postings due to the boss's satisfaction.
Thank you for helping me in making a final decision. Please keep posting.
Regards,
amdprasad
From India, Mumbai
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Thank you for helping me in making a final decision. Please keep posting.
Regards,
amdprasad
From India, Mumbai
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WORK LIFE BALANCE.ppt
Work Life Balance.pdf