From Botany to Bond – Chronicles of a Medical Rep with a Sixth Sense

Back in 1999, while the world was busy prepping for Y2K, I was battling a more personal crisis: Botany Fatigue Syndrome (not officially recognized by WHO, but I assure you it is real). Seven years of dissecting roots, stems, and mugging up photosynthesis had left me with a burning desire — to run away. Not from sweet home, but from chloroplasts and xylem vessels.

With M.Sc. final exams still six months away and motivation buried somewhere under a pile of well preserved leaves, I did what any burnt-out science student would do: look for an escape hatch.

Hurrah! There it was — the most happening fallback career of that era: Medical Representative. Let’s be honest, it was the unofficial Plan B for every passionate Medical aspirant who gave it not once, not twice, but three mighty shots and still couldn’t get past the dreaded cut-off. I wasn’t just in that club — I topped the charts. So close, yet so spectacularly far.

What followed was a phase of novel-reading marathons — I practically shifted my residence to the Harekrushna Mahatab State Library, reading everything from Dickens to Durjoy Datta....Sobha Dey to Khuswant Singh. And when not mentally lost in fictional worlds, I became a seasonal athlete for hire. July to December was football season. January to June, cricket took over. If IPL had existed back then, I’d have at least made it to the cheer squad.

Eventually, realism kicked in. With zero competitive spirit left for entrance exams and an overactive imagination, I applied for the role of a Medical Representative. Boom! Landed a job with a top MNC — selling medicines =apparently, destiny rewards those who major in leisurely arts".

I was more attached to SCB Medical — Odisha’s pride and the Everest of all pharma battlegrounds. My product? A specialized surgical injection so exclusive, even the competition hadn’t caught up near it. I ruled the market. Sales targets? Crushed. Incentives? Rolling. Self-esteem? Sky-high.

But as any Bollywood scriptwriter will warn you — just when the hero starts humming victory songs, trouble makes an entry.

Enter: Dr. Heartbreaker.A young, sharp, dynamic lady doctor — she appeared on the scene and in less than a quarter, managed to slash my sales by a whopping 20 percentile . And guess what? She is too good with me, approaching all the time - Malaya Babu 10 pkts of XYZ injection (of course for free-Doctor's sample).

Now, I’ve always had a touch of the Sherlock Holmes gene, sprinkled with James Bond instincts. So I did what any rational, territory-proud Med Rep would do — took a week off to spy on her.

Day 3 of my Mission Impossible surveillance, I saw her hopping into a car with a smart-looking guy. Multiple trips to Puri followed. Suspicious. Very suspicious.

So, I did what Bond would do (minus the tux and gadgets) — tailed them. And the twist? Her dashing travel companion was none other than the sales rep from the rival brand. Boom. Mystery solved. My sales graph had a love triangle. And I turn out to be a Chutiya giving her free samples all the time.

Years later, Facebook algorithm informed me that they got married and have three kids. But the question still haunts me: How on Earth did a Doctor marry a Medical Representative?!

But then again, love is blind. And maybe deaf. And occasionally employed by the competition.

Moral of the story?

Botany may teach you how plants breathe, but life teaches you how love breathes down your quarterly targets.