Notes from Brazil

Of all countries I have been to, the visit to Brazil, though not a long one, has left with me the lasting impressions. I would never forget my first day at Brazil. The ride from the Sao Paulo airport to my hotel in downtown was long. Normally I use these occasions to talk to cabbies to get the feel of the place and the general talk of the town. However , as I later found out, you do not find people knowing English except at hotel receptions. Indulging in small talk with the cabbie was difficult. Even for the barest minimum communication, we spoke into an App in his smart phone that translated his Portuguese into English and vice-versa.

The hotels designed for “business travelers” all over the world seem to be cut from the same cookie-cutter; from the reception, to the lifts, rooms and to the breakfast spreads--the tedious lack of variety makes you yearn for a change of scene within a few days. Apart from having to switch between “Obrigada” and “Obrigado” and adjust to the blank stares when you speak to people on the streets and shops in English for directions , I found the European veneer familiar as I walked my way to the office.

The street had trees that looked tropical in contrast to the passers by who looked very European. Our office was a rectangular building of three floors with the corridors running all round , much like the college building in Karaikudi which I went to some 40+ years back. The entrance to it was however heavily guarded with two levels of high gates made of thick steel plates. The guard would speak to you from behind the gates. Unless somebody permits you to come in, the guard operating the gates will not let you enter. Once the first gate closes behind you, you will be aware that eyes are watching at you through the CCTV and the second second gate opens only after he first gate is firmly closed behind you. The openness, or the lack of it, gave an eerie feeling of entering into a drug lord's den immortalized by LATAM serials like “Narcos” in Netflix. Only frisking by armed guards and the Don himself sipping on something as he wallowed in a giant swimming pool were missing.

You cross the second gate to get into the square that is in the centre of the rectangular office block. What greets you first are the two large sized tables fit for professional Fooseball one one side and a large spread of lipsticks, hair colours , nail polishes, giant sized shampoos and assorted women's accessories attended to by two women with European features but tanned to a bronze by the tropical sun.

I was escorted by an Indian colleague whom I knew from Mumbai. He took me to my seat up the stairs in the second floor. Looking down from the corridor, I saw a clump of people in the corner of the square down below. My colleague suggested that we went down for a cup of coffee. It was well past 10 am, but the office atmosphere was clearly very relaxed.

There were three large flasks, with “ Cafe”, “Leite”, “Aqua” written on them. I mixed my own coffee; the decoction had a strong aroma and the milk was fresh. I had never tasted a headier brew. Normally, I keep away from coffee sold with fancy Italian names even in India. But this was Kumbakonam Degree Coffee raised to the power of two.

We walked up to the restrooms and I saw the strangest sight. I saw a few men cleaning their teeth. It was about 11 am in the morning and my normal reticence in new surroundings allowed me no more than take a brief note of it.

The next ritual was to go and get introduced to the Country HR Head. We could only meet his secretary as the gentleman was not in his seat. He had gone down for his cupa, from where we had just returned. One thing I could immediately notice was that the surnames were very familiar – Furtado, Countinho etc. I live near I.C. Colony in Borivali where shops are called “Ave Maria” and buildings , “Buena Vista”, “Bella Vista” etc.--where De Costas and Silvieras dressed in their finery preen their way to the Church of Immaculate Conception every Sunday. “Let's wait in the outer office”, I muttered to my colleague. His reply surprised me once again, “No, it will take time, he will come after cleaning his teeth in the restroom”. I had to hold on to my reserve again as it was too early to be nosy about the sights and smells of a new place.

I was allotted a seat and I had to plan for the kick off meeting for the Project. I had identified a Project Manager and started filling up positions for the Brazil Rollout of a global template developed from India. The local talent have to travel to India for 3 weeks of Knowledge Transfer and start additional design and development needed for the Geography. As there was not enough bench strength, I had shortlisted candidates after interview from India and wanted to meet them in person before recommending their recruitment to local HR. The candidates had very narrow specialization in spite of many years of experience they had claimed on their CVs. Generally, westerners do not spread themselves thin like Indians do, which we proudly call as “360 degree view” . A programmer remains a programmer for 30 years while in India, we do not see it that way. However, lack of knowledge of their own Indirect taxes on goods and services sold and purchased was perplexing. Brazlian taxation on goods and services is , like their coffee, Indian pre-gst taxation complexity raised to the power of four. A normal item of consumption like toothpaste ( you can't escape “toothpaste” when in Brazil) will attract taxation of 65%. For example, a toothpaste imported from America will have 7 to 8 layers of taxation without any set off for Input Tax. There are Federal taxes, Provincial Taxes and City Taxes. Repairing a machine in a city meant one tax and taking the machine outside the municipal limits and repairing it in another town meant another tax! Generally, all taxation related issues were outsourced to “Experts”, and their advice was sought  even for day to day actions like raising invoices and booking invoices received from vendors. Every movement of goods requires a “Nota-Fiscal-Electronica” which had to be lodged with “SEFAZ”, the Server of the Central Tax Authority, and every receipt , likewise was recorded in SEFAZ against every dispatch. Complex calculation logic and filing requirements makes Brazilian tax system the most onerous in the world.

By this time lunch was upon us. There was a cafeteria in the square in the centre. The women selling Lipsticks and Hair colours were doing roaring business, a large number of women staffers has gathered around checking out in-situ the effects of various beauty products upon them. This was the first time I had seen anywhere an office complex with a shop selling women's accessories and make up items! No wonder the women staffers seemed to me like fashionistas at a party.

The “lunch time” was long over. I had been twice to my seat and back with rest of the office still in “lunch break”. The game at the Fooseball Table was going on with the same fervour as before, so was the fashion business. Later I came to know, Brazilians normally take two to two and a half hours for lunch. I had come to my seat and finding that I could not connect my India domain laptop to the LATAM network was inquiring about how to get a laptop issued to me expeditiously. Their relaxed ways was getting on to my nerves. This turned out to be a significant first lesson in Brazil which helped me take some quick decisions in the weeks to come , about which I will tell at the end.

In the meantime, my Project Manager arrived. He was a Brazilian of Japanese origin. It was surpri sing to learn that quite a large number of native Japanese have domiciled in Brazil. I was curious to know the historical antecedents , but owing to want of time and knowledge of Portuguese I did not succeed. Since nothing was moving, I asked him to drive me to the client's city office. He agreed.

We were on road for about 30 mins and I was seated to his right in his car. We were talking about his experiences of handling Brazil roll outs for multinationals and working with teams coming out of India. The car stopped at a signal. It was about 3:00 in the afternoon. I looked out of my window and my eyes must have popped out of my head. I saw children, all kindergarten students, standing in a row brushing their teeth under the watchful eyes of their “Miss”. It was a sight to behold.”What on earth...”, my reticence had worn off by then. Quickly understanding my dismay, my Brazilian colleague jumped in “Their teacher is teaching them clean their teeth” – in the same manner you would expect him to say “Their teacher is teaching them alphabets”. He went on to add how toothpaste had become very costly after the recent reduction of value of Brazilian Real ( R$) against US dollar and that how Brazilians brush teeth 4 to 5 times a day, once in the morning, after mid-day coffee, after lunch, after afternoon coffee and at night after dinner. This explained their frequent sojourns at the rest room. If this was the case with men's restrooms, I shuddered to think what the women's room would be—a veritable beauty saloon?!!. I felt like Vadivelu---“Iyyo, Kanna Kattude”.

The next day when two of the selected candidates declined to join after being given the offer by our HR , I asked for the reason. One of them said that dental treatment was costly in Brazil, but our company's medical insurance cover did not cover dental treatment unlike IBM's. I could sympathize with him, but was happy that my company has not chosen to go bankrupt in Brazil!

In the months that ensued, the Project did get kicked off with full complement of associates recruited and sent for training in India joined by consultants from India. The relaxed ways of Brazilians was too much for me. I was once or twice harsh on consultants for their casual ways. It did not go down well. I decided to remove myself from the scene. In Rome, let Romans do consulting like they do-- I left to the local management to deliver the Project with me monitoring only from India and returned soon after the kick off.