K-R-I-S-H-N-A-N you twit!

For a married (and not available) guy like me, its always a surprise when one discovers not one or two girls, but 3 entire categories of chicks seemingly cannot get enough of you.

Until very recently, these hot mamas were of only 2 categories:

1. Dont you just need my credit card, big daddy? AND
2. You no pay ure bill, naughty boy!

Category 1 is a gaggle of humanoid robotic chicks. Their sole aims in life are
a) Reciting an over-rehearsed line of incomprehensible gibberish at unimaginable speeds
b) To get a 5inch x 3inch piece of plastic into your wallet.

Surely you want a credit card? You already have a gold card? Why not a silver card to boot? Silver is the new gold...
You have more plastic on you than you care to remember? Surely your missus or mummy or daddy or 3rd cousin twice removed could do with some plastic loving? C'mon big daddy....

No sooner have you disconnected on robo-moron than you are subjected to the punishing attack of category 2.

These amazing chickies are more hungry and ornery than a pack of hungry hyenas. God forbid you are 1 minute late in paying your credit card bill. Pay up, pay up now, pay up i say!

Their onslaught is all encompassing and covers HOW, WHEN, WHERE and WHAT you are going to pay. They bring the WHY. You pay now or else... we will call back. And call back. And call back. And call back....aint no Energizer bunny got the battery life to match this juggernaut.

Well, my fan club has now swelled and I have added another category of fans:

3. Pay your bill soon or my cuz hyenawoman (read: cat2) be in touch soon, plasticman!

Me: Hello? (Unsure, bracing for a Cat1 caller)

Cat3 broad: Kya mein Hari Krishan se baat kar rahi hoon? (Am I speaking to Hari Krisan?)

Me: No. You're speaking to Hari Krishnan, dimwit! What do you want?

C3b: Hari Kisan ji, mein XXXXbank se ABC bol rahi hoon. Do din mein aapki credit card number XXXX ki bill due hai.... (Mr. Hari Kisan, I am ABC calling from XXXbank. In 2 days, the bill for your credit card numbered XXX is due...)

Me: Thats, Hari Krishnan numbnuts....not Kisan... I know the bill is due in 2 days and I will pay. Why the heck are you calling me in advance?

C3b: Kya aap cash ya cheque se pay karenge? (Will you pay by cash or cheque?)

Me: Net banking (Thinking:Lets close this out with minimum vocal usage)

C3b: Confirm karne ke liye mein kab call karoon? (When should I call to confirm?)

Me: Call me again and I will hunt you and every distant relative you have down like the herd of swine that you are!

C3b: Have a good day, Mr. Krishna

Me: *CLICK* (To self: How the f%^& did she speak fluent English on that farewell greeting?)


Clearly, these girls cannot get enough of me. Day or night, rain or sunshine, I can count on them calling to hear my voice. Not a day goes by without atleast five of them offering respects at the altar of me! Sigh, I count the minutes till the next call...hold on a minute, is that the phone I hear ringing? Coming, dearie.

Driving me batty

Drivers in India are a must-have support staff and a clear example of the cliche - Cant live with them, cant live without em.

Since returning to India, M and I have managed to understand that we are basically going to have a revolving door of drivers, who will drive us when it pleases them and drive us crazy because it pleases them!

Our analysis of this curious type of employees has yielded the following categories:

1. Dumber than the average doorknob:

We have been blessed with a few of these including our latest "stud". They drive you crazy with their daily quizzing "should I take this route?", "Where is that?" etc etc. They apparently have no skills required for the job except the fact that they can drive a stick shift (in most cases).

Why dont they get it - I dont give a flying falafel what route you take, just getting me to the *bleeping* church on time!
And guess what, you dont need to ask me the same question daily - buy a goddamn dictaphone, record my answer and play it to yourself daily if it stokes your fire. Just drive and stop the inane jabber.
For more details, check my earlier post on the legendary Sekar.

Likely result: You blow a gasket and take their head off and end up in jail for 1st degree murder + mutilating a mutilated corpse!

2. I'm Einstein yet I'm driving your car:

This category of smart alecs believe they know everything. Any advice results in a tart response "I know that". They are quick to give you advice on raising kids, investing money, driving anything from a moped to a battle tank AND my personal fav - how to treat women!
Yet these geniuses are not solving world hunger - they are driving my damn car.
Get a clue, morons - you dont know jack. And whatever you do know is wrong. Shut your pieholes and drive!

Likely result: You fire their sorry asses with a long condescending and arrogant lecture. You feel happy to have been a bada saab (big boss) and are now left driverless again. Then just to top it off, you kill them anyway - damn schmucks!

3. I'm so connected, I make Facebook look like a nuclear family:

These bright boys thrive on their networking skills. They know every traffic cop, mechanic, peon and cab driver south of Siberia. They know where every bada saab works and claim to know how much every single person in the uber-mega-network earns. They do manage to back the claims by seemingly knowing a wide range of people, and get all your dirty work done without you wanting to know HOW it got done.

Likely result:Useful chaps but they are also called "2 monthers". That is their average work-span before they use the aforementioned network to move on to greener pastures. No killing here - a silent disappearance.

4. Its all in the family:

This applies to drivers who are Tamil, Bihari or Maharashtrian. They love to hang with other drivers who speak their own language. They form mini gangs with these buddies and wile away time playing cards, cracking jokes and ignoring calls from pesky bosses. Their view - Why do those damn chaps want to call me now? Why cant they just us be? Cant they see this cup of tea in my hand?

As their employer, one needs to be grateful if they show up at all and dont give you lip. Between the society complaining about your dude being the gang leader and chief troublemaker, and you being forced to let him return to his village for between 1-6 months at a time, employing this chappie is an entertainment guarantee!

Likely result: You gather up your own posse, lynch your driver. Then hunt down his gang like the pack of wilderbeest that they are, and slaughter them all at the card table. Very Godfather, very dramatic.

And finally.....

5. I'm here to learn offroad driving:

This category of learner drivers, typically of lower age and even lower patience, will drive your vehicle as if they are a cross between a Himalayan rally driver and the little old lady at the driving school. Mashing your transmission as best they can, they will scratch the under-carriage on every pavement, rock or rough surface they can find.
The sheet metal will be even worse off. Leaving traces of your paintjob all over the city's vehicular traffic, they will bring the car home looking 10 yrs older. Ever ready with a "sorry sir" for every mistake, this joker will cost you money, peace of mind and a drivable vehicle.

Likely result: You will kill him, the car and finally yourself!

So you see my friends, you have two choices:
1. Drive yourself and kill yourself from traffic frustration.
2. Hire a driver and end up killing him and eventually yourself.

Either way rage, frustration and and a bloody end awaits somebody. Its time for me to hire the next moron!