Category: Pappettan Says

A friend came over last week. He works in technology. He had the look of someone who had just discovered something important and needed to tell someone about it immediately.

We sat down. Pappettan was already there, as he usually is, with his tea.

Friend: (leaning forward) It is finally happening. AI is replacing engineers. One of the biggest technology companies in the world. Thousands of engineers. The machines are writing the code now.

Me: What does that mean for the engineers?

Friend: (waving his hand) That is the point. They do not need as many anymore. The AI does the work.

Pappettan: (without looking up) How did the engineers take it?

Friend: They loved it. Almost all of them were using it every single day. Not just for small things. Real work. Architecture. Testing. Documentation. The adoption was extraordinary.

Pappettan: (nodding slowly) And the AI. Is it still there?

Friend: (pausing) They shut it down.

Pappettan: The AI that was replacing the engineers.

Friend: Well. Yes. But it is not the same thing.

Pappettan: (setting down his cup) Why did they shut it down?

Friend: (shifting slightly) The cost. Every prompt, every question, every review adds up. At that scale, across thousands of engineers using it seriously, the bill came in much larger than anyone had planned for.

Pappettan: So it cost more than they budgeted for.

Friend: Much more.

Pappettan: (quietly) And why do companies usually let people go?

My friend had no answer to that. I am not sure I did either.

A friend came to see me last week. He works in project delivery. He looked tired in the way that has nothing to do with sleep.

We sat down. He asked for tea. Then he started talking.

Friend: There is this project. It was costed with a specific resource profile. Certain skills, certain levels. Everything agreed upon. Then midway through execution, the lead decides he needs a different kind of resource. Different skill. Different level. Completely different profile.

Me: And?

Friend: I explained to him that a resource change is fine. But it needs to go through a process. You recost. You get approvals. You see what it does to the margin. This is not bureaucracy. This is how you protect the engagement.

Me: What did he say?

Friend: He said he needed the resource. That was it. I explained again. Same answer. I explained a third time. Same answer. And then he started telling people the organization was failing him. That the system was broken. That nobody was supporting him.

He stopped. Looked at his tea.

Friend: I felt offended. I have spent years understanding how this works. I have explained it patiently every single time. And now I am part of the organization that is apparently failing him.

Pappettan had been quiet through all of this. He refilled his cup slowly. Then he looked up.

Pappettan: Did he ever ask why the process existed?

Friend: No.

Pappettan: Did he ask what it was protecting?

Friend: No.

Pappettan nodded slowly.

Pappettan: You are not offended because he criticized the system. You are offended because he never once wondered how it worked. And that tells you he never will.

Understanding how something works is always a choice. Not everyone makes it. But someone always pays when they don’t.

A friend asked me whether he should get a desktop or a laptop. He wanted to focus better, work more, stop being lazy. We had been talking about laziness for a while and that is where we landed — on devices.

Pappettan listened to all of this.

“Where are you going to sit?” he asked.

My friend blinked. “What?”

“When you work. Where do you sit?”

My friend said wherever. The couch sometimes. The dining table. Bed when it gets late.

Pappettan nodded slowly. “We have a place to pray. A place to eat. A place to cook. The place tells you what you are there to do.” He paused. “You do not have a place to work. That is the problem. Not the device.”

My friend started to say something about how a desktop would force him to sit at a desk, which was kind of the same thing —

“It is like the gym,” Pappettan said.

My friend stopped.

“People buy the shoes. The clothes. The membership.” He looked at my friend. “Are you going?”

My friend admitted he was not going as much as he should.

“Then you do not need better shoes,” Pappettan said. “You need to go.”

He picked up his coffee. The conversation, as far as he was concerned, was over.

My friend sat there for a moment. Then he said he was going to rearrange his spare room this weekend.

Pappettan looked at him and smiled. The kind of smile that says, yes, that is exactly it, you got there.

He said nothing. He didn’t need to.

Some problems do not announce themselves clearly. They arrive wearing the face of something else entirely.

A friend came to meet us one afternoon. He looked distracted. The kind of distracted that has nothing to do with where he is and everything to do with where his mind is.

I asked him what was wrong.

He said his manager had given him a new responsibility at work. A significant one.

Me: That is good news.

Friend: nodding slowly Yes.

Me: So why do you look like that?

Friend: A week later, my manager sent someone else in.

Me: For what?

Friend: To help me. That is what my manager said.

Me: genuinely confused And?

Friend: Why do I need help?

There was a pause. Pappettan, who had been listening quietly the whole time, set down his cup.

Pappettan: Did he help?

Friend: caught off guard Well. Yes. A little.

Pappettan: Did your manager take the work away from you?

Friend: No.

Pappettan: Did your responsibility change?

Friend: No.

Pappettan: quietly Then what exactly did you lose?

My friend opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

Pappettan: Your manager gave you a responsibility. You accepted it. You worked on it. So far so good.

He paused.

Pappettan: Then you built a fence around it.

Friend: A fence?

Pappettan: An invisible one. Nobody asked you to build it. Nobody approved it. Nobody else could even see it. But it felt very real to you.

He leaned forward slightly.

Pappettan: And here is the thing. You built that fence because you cared. You took the work seriously. You put yourself into it. That is not a bad thing. That is actually a good thing.

My friend looked up.

Pappettan: But somewhere along the way, caring about the work became protecting the work. And protecting the work became protecting the territory. And nobody told you when that shift happened. It just did. Quietly. Without you noticing.

He picked up his cup.

Pappettan: So when that person walked in, he did not touch your responsibility. Your manager did not take anything from you. But someone crossed your fence. A fence only you could see. And you felt robbed.

A long pause.

Pappettan: You cannot be robbed of a fence that only you could see.

I had no answer. Neither did my friend.

Here is the thing about work. Some things are given to you. The task. The deadline. The accountability. You can point to all of them. Someone handed them to you on a specific day.

But territory is different. Nobody gives you territory. You build it yourself. Quietly. Without asking. Without announcing. And because you built it with genuine care, it feels just as real as everything else.

Until someone walks through it.

And then you realise. The fence was yours. You built it. Nobody else could see it. Nobody else even knew it was there.

But it hurt just as much when someone walked through it.

That is the strange thing about invisible fences. They cause very real pain. And most of us go home that evening not knowing why we feel the way we feel. We know we are hurt. We just cannot explain it. Because how do you explain a fence that was never on any map.

Everyone has a system for work. Or at least they think they do. What is more interesting is what happens outside of work. Recently, I finally got my calendar right and was telling Pappettan about it one afternoon.

Me: proudly Color-coded. Blue for client meetings. Green for internal reviews. Yellow for focus work. Every hour accounted for. The chaos came down. I was happy.

Pappettan: listening

Then he noticed I was watching the clock.

Pappettan: You need to leave?

Me: already gathering my things Yes. I have to figure out dinner. I have no idea what is in the fridge. And I still have to run to the grocery store.

Pappettan: What time is dinner?

Me: I don’t know yet.

Pappettan: Who decides?

Me: I do. Usually.

Pappettan: And the groceries. Same time every week?

Me: after a pause Whenever I remember.

Pappettan: nodding slowly You solved the chaos at work. Why didn’t you use some of these methods to solve the chaos at home?

I had no answer to that.

I have always suspected that a popular Mexican fast food chain is mismanaged. The kind where you watch them assemble your meal in front of you, ingredient by ingredient. The lines are always long. The wait is always uncertain. I have never understood why a place so popular cannot get its operations right.

Last week, my daughter wanted chicken. Pappettan and I walked in to get it for her. The staff told us there would be a fifteen minute wait. They had run out of chicken. No explanation beyond that. We chose to wait outside.

When we walked back in, there was a long line at the counter. It took me a moment to understand what had happened. We had chosen to wait outside. Others had walked in after us and queued ahead of us. What had started as a chicken shortage had become, from the outside, the appearance of a restaurant in high demand.

I was not pleased.

Me: irritated This is mismanagement. They ran out of chicken. That is it. And now look at that line.

Pappettan: looking at the line Yes. Look at that line.

Me: exasperated People walking in think this place is popular. It is not demand. It is a shortage.

Pappettan: nodding And yet the line is there.

Me: frustrated Because of a mistake!

Pappettan: calmly But the customers are still waiting.

Me: thrown off Well… yes.

Pappettan: turns to me So they created a shortage. The customers waited. The line formed. And now everyone walking in thinks this is the place to be.

Me: slowly That was not intentional.

Pappettan: shrugs Does it matter?

I had no answer to that. Somewhere in that exchange, mismanagement had become a masterclass in supply and demand. I am still not sure how I feel about that.

The annual medical exam is a ritual. What is more interesting than the exam itself is the preparation that precedes it. A month before the appointment, something shifts in the people around you. Those who drink stop drinking. Those who have not seen the inside of a gym in months suddenly become regulars. I have always found this transformation fascinating.

This year, I was sitting with Pappettan and a friend at a café when the friend arrived looking visibly lighter. He had just received his blood work results.

Friend: satisfied The doctor said my results are much better this year.

Me: genuinely happy That is wonderful. What changed?

Friend: proudly I stopped drinking last month. Started going to the gym every morning too.

Me: impressed That is real discipline.

Pappettan: interested How did you feel during that one month?

Friend: enthusiastically Much better. More energy, better sleep.

Pappettan: nodding Then why not continue?

Friend: shrugs The exam is done now.
Pappettan: after a pause And next year, you will do the same preparation again?

Friend: without hesitation Of course.

Pappettan: So you are not getting healthier. You are getting better at passing the exam.

I had no answer to that. I am not sure my friend did either.

A few years ago I started a series on this blog called Pappettan Says. It grew quietly, post by post, conversation by conversation. Then I stopped writing and the series stopped with me.

Now I am back. And so is Pappettan.

Which raises a fair question for anyone arriving here for the first time. Who is Pappettan?

The short answer is: a superhero.

Unlike the popular ones, Pappettan does not wear a mask or a suit. But like them, he prefers to remain anonymous. Pappettan is a pseudonym.

He started as one person I met in Paris many years ago. Someone who could walk into any situation and walk out having made it more interesting. He had a gift for saying the most unexpected thing and somehow making everyone in the room either blush or laugh. He knew exactly where the line was and never crossed it. Anger was not an emotion you found in him.

Over the years, Pappettan has grown beyond that one person. I have met others who carry the same spirit. The same ability to look at an ordinary situation and find the angle nobody else noticed. The same quiet logic that cuts through the noise. In that sense, there are many Pappettans in the world.
Some readers have suspected that Pappettan is my alter ego. He is not. I have always been an observer. Someone who gets drawn into the things happening around me but rarely the one who shapes them. Pappettan is the opposite. He walks into a room and the room changes. I walk into a room and take notes.

That is probably why I find him so compelling.

Once, the original Pappettan said something that stayed with me. He was talking about his passion for photography and said: “I am documenting my life. When I retire, I can look at these photographs and remember what I accomplished.” Then he paused and added: “In a way, you are doing the same with your blog.”

He was right. That is exactly what this is.

Some of the old Pappettan posts will find their way here, rewritten where time has made them relevant in a new way. And there will be new ones, because life keeps producing the situations and Pappettan keeps finding the angle.

I hope you enjoy them.