The non-delivery syndrome
This 'n' that
By Renee Ranchan

HOW many times do you find your blood pressure on the rise despite diligently following your doctor’s prescription? Or that migraine taking over your day, despite the aromatherapy, acupuncture treatment? And how many times during the day do you see your schedule go haywire, resulting in everything coming to an ubiquitous halt? And on no account of yours? Yes, all the above and more happen when the little peace of mind you have is rocked. All because the goods are not delivered. To be more specific: do we all not know how infuriating it is to make the usual 10 rounds to a tailor’s shop to get that single, everyday-wear shirt? That too, after the tailor (they like to call themselves designers these days) had assured, pledged that your garment would be ‘100 per cent’ ready, packed and all waiting for you. I am getting pretty tired of this ‘100 per cent’ expression. Aah, I know I had promised this time we would be talking about our obsession with beauty pageants (remember?) but can we save it for the next time? I am not particularly in the mood to discuss Miss Shiny Hair and Miss Best Smile and how it is time to worry about teenagers suffering from anorexia, bulimia or both.... All on account of our anti-fat society. Actually to get a clearer picture of it all, all you have to do is switch on the television...models, V.J.s and show anchors, all have that starved look. Lean, hungry and hollow looks — they are the ‘in thing’ for girls and women. What about their male counterparts? Bench-pressed shoulders, rock-hard chest and sinews that flex with every step. Of course, here too the condition is: not-an-inch-to-pinch. But as I said, next time we shall speak about this business of beauty. For now can we go back to the tailor? The reason why I start off with the tailor is simple: I have made five trips to his shop to collect an ensemble which should have been mine five days ago. And the man had more than promised to give me the suit on the assured date! I guess I shall take it easy for the next few days — the suit was to be worn on a dear cousin’s wedding four days ago. And the only reason I had given the dress stitching at the 12th hour was because the tailor had vowed, as in a dozen times over, that he would deliver the goods come what may. Repetition has plenty of convincing ability, no? But I have learnt my lesson: only readymade clothes for me.

At this wedding, a ‘friend’ wanted to know why I was not wearing a new dress. Excuse me, but the one I was wearing was not taken out from a long forgotten trunk in the atic! The lady laughed, told me I was touchy and explained: she had seen me wear the same ensemble at two other weddings and she thought that this being a family wedding, I would have worn a brand new one. (Women... nothing escapes their notice. Since the past few days I have been trying to build my own power of observation.) My tailor story came out. She had several of her own, one was about a most ill-fitting (tent-sized, actually) salwaar-kurta. The tailor insisted she had lost weight since she had given her measurement. What? About 10 kg in a week? The man was adamant, agreed to re-do it only if the lady agreed that her size had changed. Talk of a Himalayan sized ego!

But usually the excuses, explanations are more run-of-the-mill, generic... you are on the verge of ripping out your hair when the tailor explains the delay away: labour unrest, unmanageable work-load on account of the marriage season, a mysterious ailment that the tailor suddenly develops when he is about to put his scissors to work... However, why blame only your tailor? It is the same story with the electrician, carpenter, painter... your renovation, construction or whatever work will be finished before the due date. This is spoken in a 100-per cent guarantee voice). And yes (yawn, yawn) that is a promise, the world of honour. Afterall, you are told, in a-nose-up-in-the-air voice, they had other projects awaiting them. Time was money, you see! Yes, you see... the more time they logged in setting up home for you the more money they earned! And how about when your servant reports on duty days late, armed with the same excuse? His mother, God rest her deal soul, had passed away. How many mothers did the bloke have anyway? Of course, you take him back... dependency is an addiction.

This far-too-familiar story is repeated with the maali, the dhobi.... However, this way of life, this non-delivery syndrome is not restricted to a certain class. So how about a quick, skim-the-surface scan? The politician is an ace at this non-delivery act—he, at all times dexterously hangs a carrot in front of you, with the ‘hang on, wait some more’ message. That is, I guess, what politicians are for, so why blame them? Bureaucrats...may be, I should not rope them in, it might be asking for trouble? Ditto for politicians but uptil now that quite slipped my mind! Okay, no special favours for anyone! Generally speaking, bureaucrats have this penchant for not attending to their paperwork on time or holding on to decisions will it is too late. (Taking a leaf out of the Boss’s book is his clerk who works with the sit-on-the-file attitude and tells you in between slurps of milky, sugary tea that your file had been ‘moved’, was somewhere midway...). University scholars, you think they wear that hard-up, spaced-out look because they are on their way to becoming the proverbial absent-minded professor? A scholar, is so because he hopes his professor will at long last put his signature on the thesis he did, many months ago. Or he could be roaming around aimlessly, hoping that the professor who has to arrive from another university, finally approves. One could go on and on, wrapping up all professions....

Time to look at the other side though. To switch positions. Adoctor I know tells me that her patients — okay, not all of them — do not pick up the results of their tests on time. And no, she is not referring solely to her ‘champagne lifestyle’ patients. This doctor, of course expresses her irritability. And you know what? They pile her with excuses. Excuses, they come in all shapes and sizes. And my ‘lala’ daily needs’ shopkeeper has a similar grouse. A few Saturdays ago he responded to my how-are-you query with a frown. His story: Many of his customers — who are well-to-do and educated — place their ration-orders over the phone (think that is lovely, so hassle free, next time I shall do so myself). They instruct Lalajee to keep their order packed and the bill made so that all they had to do was hurriedly collect their purchases. But you know what? This brand of customers usually take their own sweet time to pick their bags up, some even sleep over them for a couple of days! The trader, but naturally, feels aggravated since it locks up space and, of course, provisions. So what does this all mean? That it is a national problem... that is clear enough. And the malady, the problem is compounded by covering up our aversion (fear?) of date-lines, deadlines with excuses. And that we do not work on our time management. And so as a cover-up we have excuses, explanations, justifications and more excuses.

To pen off on a marginally less gloomier note. Our turtle-paced Speed Post services spell it all... delivery insured in 24 hours? I still wait for that express epistle which should have got here 24 hours ago....