I ran the corporate race. Then I learned to slow down

Few Bangladeshis have worked across three leading global banks, at home and abroad. I was reportedly the youngest CEO of a commercial bank in this country. 

For four decades I have written for local and international journals, and have 16 books to my name. Targets never intimidated me, I exceeded most of them, whatever obstacle came my way. Friends point to the recognition that followed. What most don't know is how many mornings and midnights I spent in hospital emergencies with chest pain, exhaustion, sleepless nights that wouldn't end.

Between 2007 and 2010, I made close to 10 such visits. I was diagnosed with diabetes at 38. Twice, maybe thrice, I collapsed in my room, drenched in sweat, and consulted doctors across Asia and North America. I have been on medicine for diabetes, high blood pressure and cholesterol for roughly 25 years. Well-wishers called it the price of early success -office politics, pressure to outperform, colleagues who showed little sympathy when needed most.

The picture looks different today. Since stepping back from that high-flying corporate life some fifteen years ago, I no longer chase a bigger bonus or wait for a nod from above. My cardiologist sees far less of me, and so does my gastroenterologist and endocrinologist, visits that once came every other week have all but almost disappeared. 

What changed? Honestly, the answer is simple. I go to the gymnasium at least five days a week, and swim four or five days too. I no longer bother who the highest-paid CEO in Bangladesh is, whether my boss thinks I'm the best, or who's policing what I eat.

Corporations create jobs, pay taxes, keep the economy moving, yet even the cleanest can trap people in the rat race: a pointless chase to get ahead. It wears people down and quietly kills creativity. Nobody's there to hold you if you stumble. Bangladesh's private sector still lacks service rules that might soften that fall. 

Paul Ulasien put it well in The Corporate Rat Race: The Rats Are Winning, success is never guaranteed, but do nothing, and failure certainly is.

Companies keep reshaping themselves to stay ahead of competitors. An executive must grow shareholder value while staying transparent and compliant, and that balancing act creates constant pressure to find new ways of doing business. 

Leaders like me often navigate that pressure alone, outperform everyone, and you're still on your own when trouble comes. Ethics can feel like a moving target, and the temptation to lean on "personal loyalty" over principle is real, especially in our part of the world.

Corporations create jobs, pay taxes, keep the economy moving, yet even the cleanest can trap people in the rat race: a pointless chase to get ahead. It wears people down and quietly kills creativity. Nobody's there to hold you if you stumble. Bangladesh's private sector still lacks service rules that might soften that fall.

So how does one fight that feeling of being overwhelmed, of never being quite enough? You can walk away and live simply. Or, if you stay in the race, you must firmly believe in your own ability to succeed within it. Choose employers who challenge you but don't ask you to compromise ethics. 

When global corporations hand a local executive the hardest jobs, they owe that person real empowerment and backing, always. This wasn't always my case. Too often, seniors abroad don't understand our market or social fabric, and thankless jobs build tremendous pressure on one's motivation. I was no exception, rather, very much into it.

In early 2009, I met elderly, amiable man at the pool, swimming quietly for weeks. One day he asked me something I couldn't answer: out of twenty-four hours, how much do you spend on yourself? I thought I already gave all of it, to work, to family, to society's wellbeing. He told me no, that isn't the same thing. Your time, he said, is only what you dedicate purely to your health or to improving your knowledge. 

I took it to heart. Now I give an hour a day to staying reasonably fit, and an hour to reading, just to keep pace with what's happening around me. That alone, I think, saved me the money I used to spend in hospital emergencies during my later corporate years.

I have just crossed 65. I'll leave my colleagues with one line: spend at least thirty minutes a day on your health, and keep smiling. Enjoy your youth, and above all, friendship.