the great indian office babu

this past week i have been gathering frequent flyer miles. i was doing the mumbai darshan tour of a national bank... like a bird being shooed off from one branch to another branch to another branch. now the thing is, we are supposed to be a country which takes pride in people like narayan murty and ratan tata. the former is a man who used the power of genius to carry india into the 21 century; the latter is a hardworking home-boy who dint carry any airs about being the head of a huge conglomeration. so then how come the middle class gentry don't get motivated by these great but simple people to do their jobs efficiently? 

i found myself dealing with two such people. one was a lady in the public provident fund department. all she had to do was switch on her computer and tell me if my work was done or not. switch on the computer she did, but she failed to mention that my demand draft was ready. she very nonchalantly told me to go back home and wait for the money to be transferred into the relevant account. i, being the trusting dumbo, went back home. jump to two days later... money still not reached. i go back to her, she recognises me tells me to wait for 10 minutes which in indian language means half an hour. i do so patiently. when i show her my face again, she very nonchalantly (once again) tells me... "ask the other lady. i am not dealing with this case." then i beg to know why in the first case did she answer me?!?!?! i mean did she just make up stuff from the top off her empty but well oiled skull?!?! this 'other lady' was the only one handling a long line of claimants. so it was back to face booking and whatsapping while waiting for my turn. only this time i was fuming.. like a pressure cooker about to let off all the pent up steam! and all this while i was under the impression that women were far more efficient than men.

once this fiasco was sorted out, came the true officer category 'babu'. a tall stately man in suit-boot, but looking like Alfred - the butler. i waited and waited for him to come to his seat, but Big Alf insisted on exercising his long limbs and was going round and round the department, checking on the smaller minnows below him. once he saw me drumming my fingers on his desk, he graced me with his glorious self. i explain my predicament to him. i am completely armed with all necessary documents. he looks over them, he looks over my application (impeccably typed) he fidgets with his computer screen then looks back at my letter, which i started to believe was in greek since he had a puzzled look on his face. this is a man who has the authority to sign off millions of rupees. this is a man whose signature can make or break someones hard earned investment. this is a man who wastes 2 hours over a 20 minute job. hence justifying his big fat salary. at first he was suspicious and was reluctant to do what i was asking him to do. so i also used my feminine charms and acted like a damsel in mourning. Oh! never under estimate the power of moist eyes! abracadabra!!! he agreed to do everything, provided i came back with my father as proof of his consent to adding my name in his account. then the Jhansi ki rani in me took over!!! my nostrils were flaring! he could have told me this the previous day too when i met him! i gathered my things without saying a word to him. gave him one more look which told him exactly which body part of his would shrivel and fall off and i walked away. the next day i came with my father, who is from the old school and gets intimidated by these babu-types. there he was being courteous to a man who dint know the spelling of 'courteous'! nevertheless, all work got done and i walked out, promising on my mother's dedication that i will not deal with them again.

the thing is not everyone is a poor worker... in my entire dealings with this bank, i must say that there have been people; namely clerical staff who are super efficient, who do their job while apologizing for the short-comings of their boss. maybe this class of people value the money they earn hence the loyalty and efficiency kicks in. my mother being one such employee was always before time and constantly on her seat, her fingers flying off the key board. i have come across people who have solved issues in minutes while their bosses have worried over them for days. 

but in all this i noticed that this officer babu, might be super slow and super cautious for a reason. the entire branch is under him. being a national bank, people bunk work like we swat flies in monsoon. so apart from haughty women like me he also has to ensure that his staff are present behind the counters designated to them. while i was waiting at his desk, he was trying to call up all the absentee staff. most of them dint answer him, others were 'ill', others were 'ill-in-mysore' i mean really... if labour unions were not so strong, these people would have been fired since when.

to cut a long story short, banking work is like a gladiator fight. all your men have to be on the arena or the lion (the customer) will eat you up. occasionally the lion scores and occasionally the gladiator. the only difference is you don't have to kill the lion to survive, you just have to be alert and quick in your reflexes and the lion will back off out of respect.