The News in the Olympics Week

            The Olympics have been a pleasant change from girls being harassed, Assam being burned, power failure and train deaths.

I’ve learnt that Indian sportspersons (at least at the Olympics) don’t lose. They ‘crash’, ‘get knocked’ or ‘get kicked’ out of events. Anyone who has qualified for an event is an Olympian, that’s something to be proud of. Winning is the icing on the cake, but the cake itself is valuable. But our channels haven’t figured it out yet. No doubt, the heartbreak and tension of the archers, shooters, badminton players and boxers were shared by those like me who were sitting crossing fingers and limbs hoping hard for good news.

Assam’s riots and deaths kept cropping up. I was surprised this hadn’t happened earlier, for the area’s been simmering for years now. One reporter irritatingly said, “the Army made lame excuses” about why it hadn’t reacted earlier. As a responsible viewer, I’d say sack the guy for homework not done. It took the channels four days to understand that cops and the paramilitary had to be called in first. The Army is basically meant to fight enemies, and help civilian administration only in rare circumstances (in India these ‘rare’ circumstances happen so often that we fail to recognize as not-routine). And even then, it needs a nod from the Ministry of Defence, who needs a nod from the Ministry of Home Affairs. Not a single channel asked why or how this hadn’t happened earlier, the riots. Had the government not known trouble was likely to erupt? I could guess that sitting here in Goa. What did the government do, what had it done, to prevent it? No channel asked this question. They were more keen on putting the blame on who wiped the mess last. A medal for their effort, I say.  

The power collapse eclipsed the big, big disappointment of Mahesh Bhupathi’s bowing out of his last attempt at The Olys. Silly questions ruled the screen: ‘Hesh created the row and didn’t play with Paes, what does he have to say now?’ The answer given by another reporter says: ‘there’s always joy and sorrow in life,’ etc, etc. Fundas and facts versus talk-talk-talk opinions. The power collapse news bite was handled better by a regional channel (Marathi) that wasn’t even affected by it. The Delhi based folks gave us obvious feedback about office-goers being stranded on railway stations and teenagers not being able to study (like they weren’t relieved about it). Again, not surprising at all, for this was yet another disaster just waiting to happen. If you’ve ever seen the net of wires and cables criss-crossing the Uttar Pradesh-Gurgaon-Ghaziabad-Noida skies, you could have made an accurate guess yourself. Specially if you’ve spoken to people who’ve told you their bijli-bills were in three digit figures in spite of having air-conditioned kitchens and bathrooms… which weren’t attached to the mandatory diesel-sets that every factory, farm and home seems to have in those areas.

The thing about girls getting molested: it’s time we raised a Seetha Sene instead of running off to complain to the government. Learn judo, girls, or taekwondo. Learn to box, wield sticks, swords, nails, teeth, elbows, wrists, anything that’ll help keep you safe. What you wear isn’t important. Where and when is. Be appropriate. After taking care that you’re in the right, if goons hassle you, be ready to kill them if need be. Then walk out with your heads held high. (Now my comments on the Assam girl: the channels said the girl was sixteen years old. Do we have age limits for pubbing? Should we?). As for the goons labeling themselves as Ram’s sene…. According to the Ramayana, they were monkeys, right?

At the end of the week, I find that the television channels that I like to watch are Doordarshan (specially the Prasad Bharati channel which continuously gives India’s best music and dance) and the Goa channels that tell us the good that’s happening in the State. As one who believes that there’s always more good than bad in the world… Goa has got the JRD Tata award for doing well in Reproductive Health and Family Planning. And theoretical physicist Ashoke Sen, a string theorist at Allahabad's Harish Chandra Research Institute, became a millionaire overnight as he is one of the nine winners of the first Yuri Milner Fundamental Physics Prize which at Rs 16.7 crore is the most lucrative academic prize in the world. After the DD and the Goa channels, I flip back to the Olympics to see what mankind is capable of. Vive la good times.

No No No-minee

One crowded morning just before Mar 31rst, in the SBI's Treasury Branch on 18 June Rd, Panaji, an old lady broke the serpentine queue to 'make inquiries'.

“I want to open a PPF account,” she announced. Considering her wrinkles, stoop and grey hair, it had to be gently explained to her that the tenure of the account was fifteen years. “Ok,” she said, with the confidence that she was certain to live that long and more, “Tell me what I have to do.”

She was given the form and the advice to fill it. She stood at the counter and meticulously filled it with gnarled, trembling fingers whilst the queue moved up a notch or two. Once she'd finished writing the form out, she re-interrupted the queue and handed it back.

“Check it,” she insisted.

“You need to fill in the nomination bit, Ma'am.”

“I don't want to. There's no one in my family who likes me. They do nothing for me. I won't give them anything...” She narrated some of her history whilst some in the queue politely reminded her that the counter would close in a couple of minutes.

“You could choose a friend, a neighbour, even a favourite charity.” This suggestion was met with scorn. Then she flung a surprise across the counter. Unlike in the larger cities, banks here don't have glass planes with round windows which work like a barrier between staff and customer.

“I tell you, I don't believe in charity. I don't want to give my money to anyone.”

“But Ma'am, that's the rule, you need to have a nomination.”

This wasn't getting anywhere. A gent nearby asked, “What happens if there isn't a nomination?”

“Eventually the money goes to the Government.”

“Then let it go,” the lady said.

Instantly everyone present got into the discussion. Free and varied suggestions were flung in all directions.

“Leave it to your domestic servant.”

“Mother Teresa's orphanage.”

“The Aguada jail.” (Where do people get these ideas from?”

“The animal hospital at Tonca.”

“The cow-shelter near Shiroda.”

“Home for the Aged, Ponda.”

“Hamara School for street children, St Inez.”

“Coastal Impact NGO for marine conservation.”

“You're so old, why don't you forgive your family? Leave them the amount. You won't be around anyway and they'll bless you for it.”

A good samaritan, in the same age-bracket as her stepped forward to explain the wisdom of a nomination. She heard him out.

In Goa, banks still don't have glass panes with round windows cut in them: customers can and often do shake hands with the staff.

Suddenly, this bent over the counter, standing on her toes, tapping the computer with her pen said: “What's your name? You put your name as nominee.”

“That can't be done...” everyone in the queue was now attentive. So were the other staff. The lady broke that inquisitive silence. She clearly and loudly announced: “Yes, you. Put your name there.”

“Ma'am, I think you should go and talk to the Manager.”

Unfazed and unembarrassed by the attention she was now getting from customers and staff alike, she marched off to the Manager's cabin to argue her case.

Her voice came through the Manager's cabin door muffled, but the tone hadn't changed. We all knew she was repeating her side of the story and felt sorry for the Boss.

At the end of the financial year, the last thing one wants on one's hands or across one's desk is a time-consuming 'troublemaker'.

That's when one reaches out for “Customer Service”.

I believe every bank must have one dedicated person to deal with situations like these. Managers' time is too valuable to spend on incidents and people like these.

Urban vs Rural Banking.

     A clerk I knew from Bank of India, Citylight branch got transferred to Parbhani. Quite often, staff believes that any transfer, unless requested, is a punishment of sorts. But this guy was different. He was enthusiastic about doing his best wherever he was, wanted to experience out-of-Mumbai life (fresh air, no commute, vegetables straight from the farms, cheap servants), and prove to his bank how efficient he was. This last intention got him into trouble. 

 

     In Mumbai, counter staff doesn't discriminate between male and female customers. Everyone's in a rush, quite often they run their own little empires, even if it happens to be a grocery shop, and no one suffers fools. Receptionists are supposed to know their jobs and do them quickly so that those in the queue aren't kept waiting. Between 0930 and 1100 in the morning, if the computer is 'not feeling well', tempers are lost, feet stamped, bad words mouthed, and old grumbles dug up. The moment the monitors flicker on, the clerks have to 'sprint' up printing passbooks, signing scrolls, handing out cash, whatever.

     So our man in a small new branch in Parbhani decided to show his new boss how smart and savvy he was. The customer was a woman. The simple cash transaction was over in less than 30 seconds. He smiled, waved her aside and asked for the next person to step forward. Within a couple of minutes, the Manager called him to his cabin and rudely asked him why he was 'acting smart'.

     Apparently, like in cities, many small town women make it a point to do their bank work themselves. The city women are in a rush, and will throw a tantrum if a second is wasted. 

 

     This woman, on the other hand, had taken the day off from household chores. She had booked a rickshaw for the morning, dressed up in her finery and planned to go shopping after withdrawing cash. My friend apparently hadn't had the decency to ask her how her folks were, how she was, whether she'd had her chai-nashta before coming, where she was going after this... he hadn't even introduced himself to her. Did he know who she was? (This question is so common in the India that is Bharat: hanv kon zana? Main kaun hoon pata hai? Mee kon ahe mahiti aahen?). How dare he dismiss her so fast?

 

     Anyone who is dealing with people must be introduced to the culture of the place. Some questions which we take for granted in cities (“What range should I show you?”) can be misconstrued elsewhere (“Does he think I can't afford it?”). Loss of customer is loss of business. Rushing in to make changes, no matter how logical those changes might seem, can also be counter productive.

     My friend learned his lesson pretty fast, and his tenure after that was uneventful. I am told that banks now have programs to introduce their staff to cultural differences.

Incomes Change, People Don't.

The first instance is in a BEST bus, Mumbai, early in one morning. A passenger doesn't have the change for a hundred bucks and neither does the conductor, so the former decides she needn't buy the ticket. The conductor explains that by the time her destination arrives, others would have climbed on the bus and he'd be able to give her the change. He points out the rule painted above the seat which says “please tender exact change”. The woman turns nasty and finally he decides to stop the bus and let her get off. He turns and tells us: “If the tc gets on and finds her without a ticket, I get fined.” Sigh.

Second: A family in the 2^nd class AC compartment on the Mumbai-Goa night train requests the tc to allow them to stay even though they are unreserved and should be getting off. There's an emergency, they plead. So, he suggests, would they like to be wait-listed so at least they have a legitimate reason to stay where they are? Of course, they agree. I was witness to this conversation. They spent the night squatting near the sink. Come morning, tc comes back with the tickets and tell them they have to pay 'x' amount for the journey. No bribe, mind you, he's giving them the receipt. Their logic: What? We didn't use any berth, we didn't sleep, why should we pay? Because you traveled the distance, he tells them. Nah, they retort. Do what you want, we're not paying. Who loses? The government. You and I, too.

Third: A Cathay Pacific Dubai-Mumbai flight was delayed. No one knew why. The first class passengers sitting near us in the waiting area cribbed loud and clear so all of us knew they should have been segregated. The ground staff did their best to make them comfortable, gave them goodies us lesser mortals weren't entitled to, but no jee no, they were going to complain to the media, the consumer court, the President, God... unless they were given a refund right there, right then, ok? Does ground staff warn flying crew about troublemakers?

My lesson: human nature doesn't change with status or income.

at the general store

My neighbourhood in North Central Mumbai is crowded. Most people have lived here for at least three generations and shop-keepers know many of their customers since childhood days. The owner of the small 'general store' opposite my building sells bindis, bangles, greeting cards, and nowadays, the 'charge' for mobile phones. He always took the money after the 'charge' sms was received by me, so I was surprised when, one day, he asked me for the cash in advance. Then he told me why: another customer, long known to him, asked him to charge her mobile for a large amount (anything more than 1000 rupees is a large amount hereabout).He did. But she said she wasn't paying because she'd 'won' some talk time from the company. She showed him an sms which indicated that she was one of the lucky few who had been randomly selected for such-n-such scheme. Naively, she had approached him; he had trustingly, as always, provided the service. They tried to call the number, without success. Finally a police complaint was lodged. The cops told him he wasn't the first to get thus cheated. When people behind the bench ask for an advance, there's always a story.... just ask for it.

Your Staff Stole My Mobile Phone

It was the end of a long and tiring shift at the hospital and I was returning home after ten hours of work when a colleague paged me. “There's a woman in my Medical Records office accusing my staff of having stolen her mobile phone. She's disturbing us, I want you here now.” Customer Service is supposed to solve all problems!! My reaching there didn't make matters better. The woman was screeching: “I left it right here. I turned around to fill the form and there was no one else around me, and when I turned back, the phone was gone. Your staff here is responsible. One of them is the culprit. I’m going to the cops now and I don't want anyone to leave this room until they are searched.” Our soothing tones and 'now-now-there-there' didn't help. Minutes later, our six feet by four Security supervisor came by with his sullen looking female guard with him. “Problem?” he growled, ex-military style. A man of few words and fewer expressions. Bluntly he said, “Mobile phone? You had? Sure? You didn't leave it at home? Certain? If you feel it's been stolen, by all means file a police complaint. Let them do their inquiry.” There was a sudden calming-down effect, specially when I quietly pointed out to the notice that said that was a public area and all visitors were responsible for their own belongings. The woman said she'd check and get back to us.

When we left, our staff, most of whom had served the company for over twenty years, heaved a sigh of relief. I was raw then; I learned a lesson. When someone is hysterical, being sweety-sweet isn't always the best way to tackle him or her. Of course, that philosophy also got me into trouble... but of that some other time.

the low IQ types.

Male models and women in customer service (even if they happen to be post-graduates or writers) are supposed to be intelligence challenged. Example: two women, quite obviously well educated, or so their accents and vocabulary seemed to indicate, asked me, as I looked up from my Hospitality Desk, where in Panaji Goa was. I tried to explain, using the map on the wall behind me, that Goa was a state and Panaji its capital. Bluntly, one of them told the other to not pay attention to someone who was wasting their time. I did shut up, but quietly wrote about it in my column. In those days, my photograph went alongside the text: it was published two days later, and the ladies saw and read the piece. To their credit, they immediately came, apologized sheepishly and asked me more questions which I happily answered. "How come," they asked as a parting shot, "You write?" Quite often, my writer friends asked me the opposite: "How come you work in a hotel?"
Later, when I worked in a hospital, ... ah of that some other time. 

The Smile and The Tone.

Colleagues have told me umpteen number of times that my job was to look pretty and smile. I never protested, but added on that I have to do that and keep a sweet controlled tone even when I knew the customer was trying to evade payment of a bill. Example: a lady once came to me and accused the cardiac surgeon who had operated upon her husband of asking her for 'black' money. Rs 40000, she said. That hospital was squeaky clean about money matters and so was the surgeon she mentioned. I reached out for the phone to ask the surgeon about it. Suddenly, she changed track and said, "Not him, actually the cardiologist is the one who's asking for the money. Says he won't give a discharge unless I pay up." Ok, I said, let me check with him. "Check later," she said and hurriedly departed. I did. This lady's husband, the patient, was admitted under surgeon I. When that surgeon was out of town, the patient took seriously ill and an emergency surgery had to be performed. She was short of funds. Surgeon II, who took over the case, did a highly risky (and successful, may I add) procedure and had signed an undertaking based on the woman's promise that the amount would be paid for before discharge. The kind, elderly cardiologist had reminded her about it because Surgeon II found it awkward to do so.
I was annoyed with her, but I smiled as I explained, whilst she squirmed. Next post, another example. Ciao.

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