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08:14 PM
Bikram Vohra
JournalismPakistan.com
May 24, 2013
For some people life wears a white hat. They just swam through things without ever getting even their hair ruffled. And for the rest of us it is one big, uphill climb to get anywhere at all. Like, in the little things.
Attracting a waiter’s attention - some people just raise a finger and the world gambols to do their bidding. Others can stand on the table and holler and they won’t get the bat of an eyelid. I went through this ordeal myself just recently.
Here we are sitting in this fancy place and I say, ‘excuse meay’, and raise my hand in a sort of nonchalant way. The waiter sails past. ‘Helo-lo’, I say, ‘A moment, please’. No reaction. I wave, both hands, nothing. What are you doing, asks this lady on my right whom I have been trying to impress with my worldliness.
He’s trying to catch the waiter’s attention, says my wife, it always takes him a while.
This little wimp of a man escorting this lady I want to impress, a total nonstarter type, says, yes, they are a bit of a bother, aren’t they?
By this time I am waving my arms like one of those air controllers on aircraft carriers bringing a Harrier in to land. No joy.
Here, let me try, says the drip and sort of flicks a finger.
In an instant a waiter appears.
Aha, I say, at last you noticed me, a bit tardy this evening, what ?
You called, says the waiter to this other fellow.
Not him, I did, I say testily, now get some more pancakes to go with the crispy duck, will you?
Sorry Sir, only three pancakes per serving.
Don’t be so silly, get more, I have never heard such nonsense in my life.
Sorry, says the steward curling his lip, rules are rules.
At which point this little chappie we brought along says, I think it would be a good idea if we got a stackful of pancakes, could you do that?
Of course, Sir, says the waiter going into a spaniel routine of gratitude just for being asked. He scampers off and returns with the pancakes.
Is it any wonder I have a complex? People tell me of the bargains they get. I whistle with amazement. Go on, I say you couldn’t have got it so cheap. We did, says the buyer, no problem at all, in your position you will get an even better deal, you are a newspaper person, they will go out of their way to help.
True, I say, yes, true, I am a newspaper person, let me try. So I call up a friend and say listen I need a new music system, you have anything going in your company? Sure, he says, be glad to help, just mosey along and pick up what you like.
This seems to be working. So I fetch up and buy a XP 7000 with LED screen or whatever and I say okay how hefty is the rebate.
Special discount for you, Sir, says the salesman, and he knocks off hundred dirhams.
What, I say, is this, a lousy hundred bucks.
Maximum, says the salesman, grinning widely.
Happened to me at Delhi Customs. I had heard that media wallahs are given kid glove treatment. You sail through, all sunshine and flowers. Don’t muck about with the Press, not worth it.
I am a journalist, I say, as casually as one might say, don’t you like my Picasso or my Ming vases ?
So?
So nothing, just letting you know.
Why?
Whay what ?
Why are you letting me know you are a newspaperman?
No reason, just letting you know.
You are threatening me?
Perish the thought.
You Press types think you can frighten us, you think I am scared?
Of course not, please forgive me, I am a silly little wimp.
(The writer is a Senior Editorial Advisor of Khaleej Times and the paper’s former Editor. He has also been the Editor of Gulf News, Gulf Today, Emirates Today and Bahrain Tribune)
If my call is so important to them, why don’t they answer it for 22 minutes?
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When I get into a queue or lane going fast, the moment I get in, it becomes the slowest and refuses to budge.
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