Mistaken Identity

“Suniye Bhaiya! Ye kitne ka hai?”

How many of us have used this line in our daily lives! Whether in the gift shop, the Big Bazaar, the subzi mandi, the saree shop, the sweet shop or any such place, we have often witnessed ourselves putting forth this inane query to a helpless, pitiful, weakling of the human species.

The language, or the tone, or perhaps even the demeanour may change from one place to another but the inherent question remains the same.

I too am no different. I have abused this single sentence so many times that it by far must have become the most commonly spoken sentence across all languages in India.

What I hadn’t observed so far is the mental attitude that accompanied the seemingly innocuous question. Often, and I am discounting the lavish, affluent, up-market shops or showrooms, the attendant workforce in these shops is relatively looked down upon by me. Primarily because in my opinion they are not well-educated, many of them are basically foolish since they don’t understand simple things are almost always clueless, they are low on capabilities – zero sales skills and pretty much non-existent communication skills. The more mass-market the commercial establishment, the lower my opinion of the shop attendants.

Yeah yeah, you may raise your finger at me and call me a pompous swellhead with a giant ego, but at least I am honest enough to admit what I feel. It may be misplaced but to come to a point where I am at least aware of the subconscious thought process that guides my actions is in itself an achievement for me. So there!

Now, it is quite a shock to me when I am at the receiving end of the question in question. Yes, ME. Not once, not twice, but innumerable times while I would be loitering about an aisle in a supermarket or casually browsing through the contents in a shop when I would be posed this query by a stranger.

It hurts me. Really. Because it immediately tells me that I somehow surprisingly exhibit all those qualities that I have subconsciously ascribed to the lowly creatures of the shop-attendant kind. It hurts me to know that despite wearing a T-shirt that carries the unmistakable logo of the very famous “Well known Institute of Management in Western India” that I have had the privilege of studying in the stranger does not hesitate even for a second before proceeding to assume that I am one of “THEM”.

Well, it happened to me yet again yesterday and this time in a Big Bazaar, arguably the most mass-market commercial establishment. The perpetrators this time were not one, two, but three people in succession who came up to me and asked me the price of a stupid mosquito-annihilation device that resembled a tennis racquet. All this happened while I was in an insouciant manner practicing my forehand with one of the pieces on display.

My immediate reaction was to break their heads with the device, then throw them on the ground and jump on their chests until their hearts popped out which I would then tear apart with my bare hands. But I am by nature a non-violent person and my inherent passive disposition eventually prevailed over my instincts.

But I did learn an important lesson yesterday. No, it is not that my respect for the shop attendants has increased remarkably. I don’t suppose that is likely to happen very soon. What I learnt was far more important and perhaps more essential for a better life. A life where embarrassments would be less and occasions for placing our feet in the most unlikely place of our mouths would be rare.

The lesson: Always make sure that the person who you are going to ask the question in question is indeed a shop attendant. Look for a tag, a uniform, or any other identification. Else, at least wait for someone else to speak to the person before you do.

What if you don’t? Well, remember not everyone is of a passive disposition as I am. :-)