At the conference I was at, there was a woman whose job it was to stand outside of a door next to a sign that said "Silence Please." This is all she did, all week. For forty hours a week, the woman stands next to a sign that says "Silence Please." But when passerbys ignored the signs and were talking so loudly that it was interfering with the conference, attendees had to go out of the presentation to the "Silence Please" sign outside the door and shush them. The woman standing next to the sign hadn't shushed them herself because that wasn't her job. Her job is just to stand there.
There are generally four people lounging in the six by eight foot break rooms "keeping then well stocked" at any given time, and when I walk past some of the unused meeting rooms I'll see a glitter in the darkness, the eyes of the cleaning people standing in the darkened rooms doing nothing. There are also people whose job it is to stand in the bathrooms. This is different than the people you may have seen in nightclubs elsewhere--the "blacks in the jacks" phenomenon--as they aren't standing there hoping for a tip, they are just standing there for the sheer love of being employed. In one bathroom I frequented, there was a woman who stands there all day and whose only job I could determine was to jump into each stall as soon as people had exited and to fold the top sheet of toilet paper into a triangle like in a hotel room. At the airport, there was a woman standing in the bathroom to hand me a paper towel. At the airport. And seriously, they don't even get tips--they are just trying to justify their employment, which is difficult, when six or seven people might be hired on any given shift to keep a single restroom clean.
You are not allowed to serve yourself anything at mealtime. Waiters must leave the dishes on the table, and then each time you have taken two bites, they come back to your table and heap two more bites worth back onto your plate. At any one time, there can be three or four people attempting to serve your table. This is especially exciting because most restaurants in this city seem to have themes of varying degrees and force their waitstaff to wear ridiculous costumes, many of which harken back to the days of British colonialism. It's actually rather stressful if they leave for too long, though. If you dare to pour yourself a glass of water--which you will need because the spice levels will abuse even a rather strong palate--this can cause a major uproar. If they see any movement of an arm stretching or something other than fork to mouth, three or four of them run back to the table as if you've just personally insulted them by pouring your own water. They make up for it by being even more insistently gracious and overbearing for the rest of the meal.
Today at the place I was having lunch, I was getting sort of irritated because I had asked for my check a few minutes earlier and it hadn't arrived yet. I had my driver--and yes, every Westerner in India has a driver, it seems--waiting for me downstairs and I didn't want to be rude. I counted 12 employees in my direct line of sight doing nothing while I waited. Seriously, it was actually 12, I'm not exaggerating. What could be the opportunity for insane levels of efficiency quite simply isn't. India is one of, if not the, most inefficient place I have ever been.
Whenever one asks a question, the response is generally a head bobble. It's sort of like a head shake, but going side to side. It most closely resembles one of the bobblehead dolls. The head bobble is an interesting and contagious way of saying "yes, no, or maybe." On occasion, I think it means "go fuck yourself." However, it's unclear as to the actual meaning because although it is the response to most questions, it is not usually backed up with any sort of concrete language.
Shopping in India, is sort of one of the worst things you can imagine. A great number of stores and shops are bargain-only sort of places. Because the general population sees all Westerners as walking wallets, they often quote prices three times what they are hoping to get, and then force you to argue your way down to a reasonable price, which usually takes at least 30 minutes. Since I spend most of my day arguing anyway, I do not relish doing it in my off-time. "Please, ma'am," they say beseechingly when I offer them a more reasonable price, although still within the range of allowing myself to get completely fleeced. I like to think that my job is to get them to lower the price by a few pennies so that I can feel that I've at least attempted and their job is to screw me over as much as possible. I got a spoon down from 110 rupees to 100, and I felt we had both succeeded.
When you walk into other stores that are fixed price, you generally have at least two men following you within 12 inches of your person. As someone who has serious boundaries issues, I found this excruciating. My only source of amusement was to stop short, or turn around quickly, so they'd run into each other or me, or have to take a quick 180 while still trying to seem casual. "Ma'am? Are you looking to do some shopping today?" I'm walking into a store, so yeah, duh. "Ma'am?" I also especially liked when these mustachioed young men insisted on pulling clothes from the racks to help suggest items I might like. "Ma'am? Very beautiful, 100% silk sari, very classic, very trending, large sizes, ma'am." Even in the airport, when I had a few thousand rupees in cash that I was desperate to get rid of, I wasn't able to spend it due to all of the overwhelming assistance.
In India, you must sign forms to show that you have signed other forms. You must have a special tag stamped and scanned for your purse to walk into the airport. I have had my boarding pass checked by at least eight attendants so far, and it's been stamped by three of them. What this is meant to prevent or ensure, I haven't a clue. Some attendants just like to look at the your boarding pass to see the stamps, but they don't do anything if the stamps are or aren't there. Their job is just to look.
You must have the wheel wells of your car checked with mirrors before you can drive into any number of areas, despite the fact that they don't check the insides of the cars.They are very enthusiastic about metal detectors in India. After one disembarks at the airports in India, you must go through a metal detector before being allowed to collect your baggage. This is India's way of saying that the screening done at whichever airport you started out at wasn't sufficient to meet India's high security standards. Once you have your luggage screened by a man that is actually facing away from the screen that shows the innards of your baggage, you go through the metal detector, which almost always beeps, and they let you though without saying a word. So the lines to deboard a plane are backed up by hundreds of sweaty people waiting to fail a metal detector test.
The malls and many stores also have metal detectors and to enter the airport, even if you've passed through the metal detector without incident, you still have to be given a pat-down in a special enclosed room by a woman in an official looking sari while another woman watches and while a man examines the tag that a man ten feet away put on my hand baggage. These tasks do not prevent crime, I suspect, but they do keep a large number of people employed. Which is good, I guess, because there are a lot of people around here.
