It was (it probably still is) quite common for new immigrants to do a currency conversion. Every dollar meant fifty rupees or more – the exchange rate always played pinball with our psyche!
Turn On the AC please!
So, there was this day when my car was still with the servicing center and I needed a ride back home. Provision of courtesy cars during servicing was limited to premium brands only back then and I was driving a poor man’s BMW, an Accord. A lot of us, the Indians in my company stayed in the same apartment complex. It was a tight-knit community, so it wasn’t a big deal finding a ride back home. I approached one of them for a ride that day.
“Hey Ravi, when are you leaving for home?” I asked him.
He took a quick peek at the computer clock. It was 5 pm.
“In about ten minutes. Why? Do you need a ride back home?” He asked while his eyes were still glued to the computer monitor scribbling through the code.
“Yes, please. My car is still at the service station.”
“Okay. I will drop by your office when I’m ready.” he said.
I went back to my desk and waited for him and in sharp ten Indian minutes, he was at my desk at about 5:30 pm!
It was peak summer days of July and the sun was still shining brightly. The wind was too hot to handle. As soon as we entered the car, we felt scorching hot air trapped inside the closed car throughout the day.
“Turn on the AC, please.” I said.
I’m fairly certain he heard me but for some reason, he ignored my request. I waited for a few minutes until it became unbearable and hinted again.
“Does your car AC work?”
“Oh…are you feeling hot? Here…” He replied and rolled down the windows. “You will be okay now.” He continued.
A heatwave gushed right at my face the moment he rolled down the window.
“Damn! It’s so hot man! I don’t think this will help. Doesn’t this AC work?” I said in agony.
“Of course it does but why do we need the AC? The car burns more fuel when the AC is on. We would reach home in 15 minutes anyway. It will save me gas worth 50 cents.” He replied with a grin.
Here I was being lynched in the car alive which had turned into a hotpot and all that he could think of was 50 cents! I was definitely not ready to buy this argument and had him switch on the AC anyway. He did switch it on with utter anxiety on his face but sped up to reach home sooner to save on gas.
I know a shortcut!
Not long after, in fact, the very next day I was met with the sequel! I had a doctor’s appointment at 1 pm and I still did not have my car back from service. So I went up to another colleague for help.
“Hi Sanjay, are you busy?” I asked.
“Not much. Why?” He counter-questioned.
“Well, I have this doctor’s appointment at 1 pm. My car is still in servicing and I’m wondering if you would be able to drop me at the clinic?”
“Sure! When do you want to go?”
“Let’s see…it’s 12 pm right now and it takes about 25-30 minutes to reach the clinic so let’s start at 12:30 pm?” I said.
“Sounds good. See you at 12:30.” He said and resumed his work.
When I did not hear from him by 12:35 pm, I called him up.
“Hi Sanjay, are you ready? We’re already running late.”
“Oh yes! Just 5 more minutes and I’ll be at your desk. I’m finishing up something here.” He replied.
It took him 10 more minutes to finally arrive, but I was glad that he did. Since we were already running late, I advised him to take the express highway but for some reason, he skipped past the turn for the highway and went on through the streets.
“Why did you skip the highway? We have only 15 minutes in hand and we would reach the clinic in 20 minutes if we took the highway!” I said anxiously.
“Don’t worry Varun. You will reach in time. I know a shortcut!” He replied confidently so I kept quiet and remained fixated on my watch.
It turned out that he knew no shortcuts and drove no higher than the posted speed limit, rather slower! We reached a good 15 minutes late! I was so puzzled that I could not resist asking him why he didn’t take the expressway.
“O…because they have a toll of 1.5$” He said.
All I wanted to do at that moment was to pull my hair out and scream in frustration! He almost had me miss an important doctor appointment to save the toll!
Do you have a toolbox?
Years later, a friend of mine called me. He had just moved from India with his family, and he needed help setting up his apartment.
“Hey buddy, do you have a toolbox by any chance? I need to assemble an IKEA table that came disassembled in the package.” He asked.
“Sorry man. I do have the toolbox, but I have misplaced some key components, so it is pretty much useless and you won’t be able to use it to assemble your table. Maybe you can buy one from Wal-Mart. They are pretty cheap. The basic one costs only 17$” I said.
“17$?? I don’t want to pay that much just to assemble a table! Do they have a return policy?” He asked.
“Come on man. It is not that you’re paying 17$ for one-time use. It’s a toolbox and you will need it every time you assemble furniture. It is a useful thing to have. You never know when you might need it. After all, you are setting up your family here and you’re going to be here for a long time!”
“Hmm…Yeah but still what’s their return policy like?” He asked again.
“It’s 90 days!” I replied in frustration giving up hope that he actually understood what I just explained to him. Or maybe he did but just ignored it because he was occupied with the currency conversion in his mind.
“Okay perfect! So, I can buy it from Wal-Mart and return it after I’m done assembling all my furniture. I should have it all within 90 days.” He replied in excitement.
I was taken aback by surprise when he told me that. I had grown out of Indians’ currency conversion mentality long ago and I was shocked why he is talking this way for a meager amount of 17$ but then it struck me, I used to think the same way in my early days when I had just moved. I realized that it was not a personal character but the way our generation was brought up in pre-globalized India.
To Fix or Toss: The Microwave Predicament
I had purchased a new microwave for approximately $50, and it worked flawlessly for a year until it suddenly stopped working. Despite my efforts to troubleshoot the problem, I was unable to diagnose the issue, so I called one of my friends for a suggestion.
“Dude, my microwave just died. Do you know if there is a repair shop nearby?” I inquired.
Initially taken aback, my friend responded, “When did you purchase it?”
“About a year ago,” I replied.
“In that case, the warranty has likely expired. It might be best to purchase a new one instead of seeking repair,” he advised.
“I beg your pardon? This microwave cost me $50! Why should I spend another $50 on a new one?” I protested, believing his suggestion to be ill-advised.
“How much do you think a repairman would charge you?” my friend quipped.
“I don’t know. Maybe $10-15,” I said.
“Well, first of all, it’s doubtful that there are many microwave repairmen available because the cost of repair might be equivalent to or surpass that of a new one. Even if you were able to locate one, would you pay $50 to have it fixed?” he asked apathetically.
“Certainly not, but why would a repairman charge me such a ridiculous amount?” I wondered aloud.
“Because labor is costly in this country. Welcome to the United States of America,” he stated with a chuckle.
In India, we had a tendency to fix things rather than throw them away. I reluctantly discarded the broken microwave and purchased a new one.
