With a mission to inform, empower, celebrate and advocate for British Columbia's current and aspiring business leaders, BCBusiness go behind the headlines and bring readers face to face with the key issues and people driving business in B.C.
Issue link: http://digital.canadawide.com/i/383533
BCBusiness.Ca oCtoBer 2014 BCBusiness 87 to-five workday. Vancouver's Dr. Jen- nifer Newman, a psychologist who specializes in organizational wellness and creating healthy workplaces, says that the Mad Men archetype of mascu- linity—the hard-drinking Don Draper type whose long hours and risk-taking behaviours constitute a public display of alpha maleness—is still a powerful influence within today's corporate cul- ture. Business spills over into workers' social lives, with deals clinched and relationships nurtured over the bond of breaking bread. However, in West- ern society, socializing takes place in restaurants, sports arenas and the golf course, where food is fatty, salty and high in calories—and the alcohol flows. This latter factor can contribute to the development of what Newman calls the "high-functioning alcoholic"— people whose accomplishments and high achievements contradict the alco- holism stereotype. Drinking alcohol to excess and powering through the next day becomes a sign of prowess. "The rationale is, 'I'm still a high per- former,'" says Newman. "There is this sense of pride in constantly working. It's a huge health issue." There's also a sense of invincibility, she adds: "Acknowledging a need to look after yourself is like admitting vul- nerability, which from the male point of view is not OK." t can take a shakeup for men to realize two things: they aren't invin- cible and taking care of their health isn't an affront to their masculin- ity. Praveen Varshney's epiphany went even further. Maintain- ing a healthy lifestyle is an extension of the masculine protector role, says Varshney, who suffered a heart attack three years ago, at age 47, while watch- ing a Batman movie with his kids one Sunday night in his Vancouver home. The main thing Varshney—a director at Varshney Capital Corp., a private fam- ily merchant bank, venture capital and corporate advisory services firm—took away from that alarming incident (the right coronary artery was completely blocked and had to be opened with a stent) was a profound understanding that a man must make his health "the number one priority, above family— but for unselfish reasons." Protecting yourself from ill health is protecting the family, he says. "It's like a plane: in case of emergency, put on your own oxygen mask before the children's." Dressed in a pink business shirt that is open at the neck, and slender from a regimen of exercise, yoga and a mainly organic vegetarian diet, Varshney believes that, in his case, his cardiac arrest was due to work-related stress as well as years of poor diet choices (his family tree is free of heart disease). His Indian immigrant par- ents, although well-educated, allowed the Varshney kids to chow down on treats like Twinkies, Ding Dongs and Wagon Wheels. An outing to McDon- ald's was commonplace and Varshney continued the habit after university, devouring burgers and fries on his way to floor hockey, soccer or beach volleyball after work. Varshney, who was always slim, says that his cardiac arrest emphasized that a slight frame won't protect you from poor food choices. Today, Varshney, in addition to an improved diet, prioritizes daily exer- cise, making it as important as his many boards of director and volunteer board meetings, as well as his consul- tations with science and medical start- ups. Michael Labou, meanwhile, has opened a home office where he spends at least two days a week, which allows him more time to exercise, while giv- ing him greater control over daily meals. He has made other changes, too, switching up his beloved fries for yam chips and working out at the gym several times a week. As a sales man- ager, he now focuses on training others in the nuances of financial insurance products, which has reduced his salary by 60 per cent from his high-flying days as a salesman. Labou admits he misses the cama- raderie and competitiveness of that time, "that feeling of winning." He pauses. "It's a pretty easy trade-off," he concludes. Labou looks to his parents, now in their 90s, happily living on their own on Vancouver Island. "I'm going to defy the odds," says Labou. "I'm going to live to be that old." ■ I