Wednesday, June 19, 2013

“Yesterday I clapped. You passed away!”

FH

In the 1960s only the very rich were able to own cars. To use the fiery socialist rhetoric of the times only the filthy rich could afford to drive in chauffeur-driven cars. It was in such a milieu, a Glaxo-Indian Medical Representative had a chauffeur-driven car. He was able to afford it not because he was filthily rich but because he was able to efficiently manage his finances. Although driving in a chauffeur-driven car gave him a certain social aura, it had its downside as well, as we shall see in a moment.

The medical profession was far more ethical then than it is now and it was a rare physician who asked a Medical Representative for an additional unit of a physician’s sample. Medical Representatives were welcomed more for the information about advances in medicine that they would impart than anything else.

Glaxo-Indian Medical Representatives were almost revered by the retail chemists as they would get them supplies of scarce medicines and baby foods. (The Family Products Division which was later sold to Heinz was not created yet.)

The Glaxo-Indian Medical Representative who had a chauffeur-driven car had to contend with a problem though. Doctors who were scrupulously honest and baulked at asking for an extra strip of physicians’ samples often sought to borrow his car, along with the driver of course. Being a soft and gentle person he could not often say ‘no’ in spite of a lot personal inconvenience, but as the demands were getting too many, he could not cope. He was unable to refuse their requests as doing so was marring professional relationships. In the end he decided to dispense with the driver and sell away the car.

But before he did, he had an interesting anecdote to tell. As mentioned earlier, our Glaxo-Indian Medical Representative was some kind of a celebrity in the town not just because – well, he was a Glaxo-Indian Medical Representative – but also because he used to drive in a chauffeur-driven car.

One day as he was passing in his car, a retail chemist hailed him. As is usual he both shouted his name and clapped to attract attention. However, the occupants of the speeding car could not hear the shouts and did not stop.

The next day the Glaxo-Indian Medical Representative had to visit the same chemist. The chemist, who was fond of exhibiting his limited knowledge of English, stunned him with this declaration: Yesterday I clapped. You passed away!   
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N. G. Srinivasan, Senior Regional Business Manager (Enteroplus) Chennai writes:

I vividly remember this. There was a medical shop opposite Rajahmundry Railway Station. The owner was a good friend of my father. One day he visited our house. He was upset with my father because he did not stop to talk to him near his shop. He told my Dad:  “Yesterday I clapped like this (he demonstrated the clapping). In the meanwhile you passed away!”

Dad used to recall many such hilarious bloopers. His AWDs used to place orders for “Betnovate Slap Applications!”   
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The Glaxo-Indian Medical Representative mentioned in the anecdote was Mr. N. G. Krishna, Srinivasan’s father. 

And yes, for many retailers and some doctors Glaxo was Glasco!

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