I would consider myself a pretty polite guy. I never talk back at people I have just met, and I always address my elders with a “Sir” or “Mam” (much to the chagrin of my friends who happen to be one or two years my elder). I was even told by an American mom that I was polite, even polite for a Canadian boy, “and Canadian boys are very polite.” I smiled and replied, “Why, thank you, mam! This sure is some good pot pie you’ve prepared…”
My point is, I’m a polite guy. The trouble is, however, that a Canadian standard of etiquette will get you nowhere in a country of 1.1 billion people. The only way to live here in India is to adopt a demeanour that would be considered quite rude by Canadian standards. I like to say, “If you’re not being rude, you’ll never get your food.” Here’s what I mean…
“Getting the job done” is a phrase that I will use in the Indian context, because what is considered rude is culturally defined. For example, if you were driving in Vancouver and saw a man urinating on the sidewalk of Richards St., you’d probably consider him slightly deranged and probably homeless. You’d likely even turn the other way in disgust. Here, that same man could be your neighbour, a gardener, a politician, or even a university professor. No one bats an eye. The same can be said for picking your nose with your index finger two knuckles deep while having a face to face conversation with someone. Or again, adjusting your… underwear. These things are commonplace here in Delhi, and so while we in Canada would consider them rude, here they are just examples of people “getting the job done.”
While I will probably never urinate on a Delhi sidewalk, or pick my nose while discussing fine art at an upscale coffee shop, there are things that I am finding I need to do in order to survive here, and some of those things would be considered rude back home in Canada. Ordering food is probably the biggest one (so far), and so I’ll start with that. If you walk into a restaurant in Delhi and sit down, you will eventually notice one of two things happening. Either the waiter will pounce the second you walk in the door, or you will be completely ignored and will eventually find yourself getting fairly hungry. In most cases (at the restaurants we have been eating at) we are ignored, and our patience has often been stretched while we sit and wait for the waiter to remember about us. “Where is he? Doesn’t he care about us? At least you’d think he’d care about our money… Where is he?” The simple fact is, he’s probably got a hundred other jobs to do and will continue chipping away at those until you beckon him rather sharply. Andrea and I sit and watch Indian people around us yell at the man with a wave, and he responds by coming to their table and taking their orders. We sit and watch this display, and while we know that this is the only way we will get served, we find it hard to do because it is just plain rude. That man probably doesn’t like being yelled at so much, and we can wait a bit longer. Can’t we? No. We can’t. If we want to “get the job done,” we’re going to have to yell at the man.
Another food related quirk is that time towards the end of your meal, when the waiter comes by and asks if you would like a refill of your flat-bread, or if you would like some coffee or tea or desert, (each of which costs extra, you know). “No thank-you,” would be our response in Canada, but here, it is better to just leave it at “No!” and then to ignore the man. I have made this mistake a few times. I will say “no thanks,” and then they will say, “Ok” and bring it anyways. As it turns out, “No thanks” is translated, “Oh! Thanks!!!” While this situation is itself a product of defunct communication and not cultural difference per say, it is still resolved only by a curt “No,” and the carrying on of conversation with whomever it is that I happen to be dining with at the time. This, from my understanding is a totally acceptable thing to do.
Now on to travel. When travelling throughout the city by rickshaw, it is important to remember that, “in order to get the job done, you need to stick to your guns.” If you know the fare of your trip is 40 rupees, and the man is asking 80, (or perhaps like me, you are visibly a foreigner and he’s asking 120), it is commonplace for you to bargain him down to a good price. Foreigners like me may have to end up paying 50 rupees instead of 40, but it should always be within a comfortable range. There are however, times when the man will not budge from his price. At times like these, getting the job done means you need to speak frankly. Myself, I tend to acquire all the “that’s a load of rubbish” phrases I can when I enter a new language setting. This usually catches them off guard and a decent price-quote will follow. When this fails, getting the job means cutting him off mid sentence with a spicy “No way, Jose” and turning to walk down the street. This may even have to turn in to an actual walk-down-the-street deal, where you actually have to walk down the street and if it does, throwing your right hand up over your shoulder should help. Nine times out of ten the bluff is called, and the rickshaw will sneak up beside you with the sound of an “ok-ok, 40 rupees,” and you’re on your way.
The final area I will mention is how to deal with clerks at stores. Firstly, let’s talk about standing in line. Oh wait… there’s no such thing as a line. You know how in Canada when you are a young boy learning how to play soccer, the coach will always tell you to play your position, no matter where the ball is? Well, I’m pretty sure Indian kids are taught to swarm. That’s how they line up in this country, anyways. They swarm. I once tried to order food at the local university, and I had wrestled my way to the counter where I was waiting to pick up my food. People were leaning and pushing and squeezing to get to the counter, and I had finally managed to wrangle out my own little piece of property. I was karate-chopping limbs that came into my area, and I was right ready to pick up my food. However, my food came off the line at the other end of the counter and someone who had been in the line behind me and had ordered the same dish as me, but after me!, and had managed to claim his own bit of land closer to that end of the counter… that yokel snaked my meal before I even had the chance to say, “excuse me sir, but I believe that you happen to be carrying the exact dish that I am waiting for. Perchance could you offer it to me, since I have been waiting for quite a while already…” Yeah, that guy was quick. But seriously, this happened a few more times before I realized that I would have to yell at the man as soon as I saw my dish coming. I tried to yell politely, but it got me nowhere. A little 5-foot-nothing girl walked away from the counter with my meal in her hands and a smile on her face. I was dumbfounded. In the end, to “get the job done,” I had to wait until I saw my food coming around the corner, then shove my way through the crowd of hungry university students holding out my receipt yelling “That’s mine!” before the man behind the counter could announce his find and someone else could steal my food.
Finally, in Canada, when finishing a transaction it is common courtesy to thank the clerk before heading out to the parking lot to try to remember where you parked. In Delhi, however, you may actually be doing more harm than good with your over-abundant displays of civility. The clerk doubtlessly has about a hundred other people to deal with, most of whom are hanging over your shoulder trying to get their item next in line, and so this poor man (or sometimes woman) has to get on to the next person the second that the change is dropped into your sweaty little palm. Stopping to thank this person for allowing him to take your money holds the whole process up, and it does nothing to benefit his or her busy schedule. Besides, you’ll probably get laughed at. I got laughed at. Then again from Andrea who saw the whole ordeal.
So anyways, the moral of the story is this. If you run into me in about 6 months and I am rude to you in some way or another… maybe I butt in line in front of you or perhaps I walk away in the middle of a sentence or completely ignore you, please give me some grace. I’m just trying to “get the job done.”
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