I was sitting at the 'Easy Money' bank waiting for my turn to come while my grey matter was trying its best to convince me to get out of there before I make a huge mistake.
I wake up with a strange feeling today. It's 18th October, just a day away from a date which is most important for me to remember in order to ensure that my bones are intact; the way GOD intended them to be. I met her fifteen years ago. It was definitely fate and there is no other explanation I could find because of which she would choose me to be her partner. But that story is for another time. Today I am dealing with a problem which is vital for me to solve or else day after tomorrow I am dead meat. Like most men (although they won't admit) I am still madly in love with my wife and would do anything to make her feel special. But the harsh truth is that making someone feel special is directly proportional to having a purse heavily loaded with lots of rectangular shaped paper. This piece of paper has the ability to change the world of a person in a split second.
Throughout my services industry experience, I have learnt that 'Law of Pareto' stands usually correct more often than not (80% of problems arise from 20% of population). Change your perspective and you would know that 80% of the wealth of any country is controlled by 20% of population or may be even less. I happen to be a part of the 80% population which wakes up every day in urge to find out new (and of course easy) ways to mint more money so that they could also experience the style of living the other 20% enjoys. Of course we wake up with the same thought and often go back to sleep with the same. Little can we change eh? Oh by "WE" I meant the service industry people and the others below poverty line. The way I see it, there are 3 vital lines of our country – The Poverty Line, The Taxpayer Line/Service Industry Line and The Celebrity Line. The ones below 'The Celebrity Line' are the rest of 80% which probably need more money for their daily/monthly survival rather than enjoying the luxuries of life.
I was more than aware that I was running out of the green paper and the chances of making my partner feel special on her day were getting slimmer with each day passing. But giving up doesn’t come naturally to me so I continued exploring other avenues through which I may be able to save the day. As I was running out of options, the only thing left was to visit a bank. I was in need of supply and the bank was the source. My partner wouldn't have approved one bit of it but being an emotional freak I took the risk as my intent was to make her day special.
"Token no. 26, Token no. 26" the interactive voice shouted out of its mono stereo channel breaking my thought process. I stood up with shaking legs and stepped forward towards the counter which indicated my token number. This is exactly how I felt when I gave my first job interview. Reluctant steps, thumping heart, no will to go forward yet had to since there was no other alternative. I felt as if I was about to meet my maker. Like Karna of Mahabharata she had all her guards up and shining sitting behind the counter. The pen in her hand was the sword which could make or break my hopes altogether.
"Please have a seat." She said to me politely. Don't put your guard down just because she is beautiful. Remember she is the devil who could rip your heart in an instance. My mind was giving me instructions. I was surely going crazy.
I slowly pulled in the chair and sunk right in it opposite to the guardian of banking galaxy. "Sir, how may I help you today?" she asked politely. "Sir", yeah right. In my opinion, this is definitely one of the most loosely used word in our country. They will address you as Sir, as if you are someone of great importance and they are grateful of your presence. Give them a minute and you are no less than the wrapping paper of a burger which is only useful till the burger lasts with the leaking sauces.
"umm, I would like to, umm, apply for a, ahem, a personal loan." I almost whispered the last words hoping she would completely miss it. "Oh you need a personal loan!!"she almost screamed in excitement. "Hari….Hari….Could you pass me the application form of personal loan. Mr…."
"Pathak…. R K Pathak" I completed her sentence.
"Mr Pathak here needs a personal loan." she shouted out to a guy who was probably sitting all the way over there in the South Pole. I turned around and it seemed like the entire bank was looking at me. They were looking at me as if I was about to commit a heinous crime. It seemed as if even in 21st century taking a personal loan is still considered as low status and is looked down upon. I had never taken a personal loan before so I wouldn't know but all the old rice curry's in the bank definitely made sure that I feel bad about it.
Their eyes were so expressive that for a minute or so I almost felt ashamed of sitting in the bank. "Mr. Pathak, you need to fill up this loan application form. Once you are done, you need to attach self attested proof of income, address and identity along with this form." the guardian instructed from behind the desk.
"Right. I will….ummm… sit over there and fill it up?" I partially pleaded.
"Yes, no problem Sir. Once you are done you can come to this counter again to complete the rest of the formalities." she confirmed. There's that word again.
I almost felt like a goat about to get slaughtered with the only difference being that it at least takes some amount of effort to catch a goat however I walked in on my own. As I was filling up the application form I couldn't help but agree that the process of getting a personal loan couldn't have been more ironical. I felt like a teenage kid who first has to prove to her parents that she is responsible enough to save her pocket money and yet ask for more because she has ran out of it.
I completed the application form and self attested the requisite proof of my existence and earnings. I bundled them altogether and took a deep breath before walking down the aisle towards the dreaded counter.
"Ah…Mr. Pathak. Have you completed your application form. Sir?" thy lady from the counter asked.
"Yes…this is application form. The first attested copy is of my identity and address and the next three are my salary slips." I carefully instructed the sequence of attachments.
"Oh ho…Sir. Do you live in a rented accommodation?" she asked in a tone which signaled trouble all over.
"Yes, I do." I answered reluctantly. This is the ugly side of getting a loan. They will ask you questions in such a way which will make you feel terrible about yourself. If you are one of those few who like to feel bad about yourself then you should apply for a loan once in a while.
"uh huh…we will need another proof of residence besides your Aadhar card." she responded with a demand.
"But it's a government document. Isn't it devised for situations like these?" I questioned back. The thing is that understanding of value of these documents varies from office to office. While certain government offices will hail this card as the one stop documentary proof, the others will outrightly reject the mere idea of submitting them as documentary proof.
"Sir, we need another proof of residence or else we can't accept your application." she raised her eyebrows and replied with authority, immediately indicating who is the boss. She handed my application form back to me and started attending other customers. I sensed a feeling of déjà vu as this was exactly how my mother in law reacted the first time when I asked my wives hand for marriage. COMPLETE IGNORANCE.
"Mam, I have a salary account in your branch and it has the same address." I tried another attempt for submission of my application.
"Sir, as I mentioned earlier we need another proof of residence or else we can't accept your application. Now if you will excuse me, I have other customer waiting." she discarded my logic and flushed it down the humiliation toilet.
She is being unreasonable. I turned around helplessly but there was no one at my rescue. What do I do now? I can’t go back to my house or else my wife would know what I am upto. I can't leave the process in the middle as I needed the green paper.
THE MANAGER.
Instantly I decided to turn towards the branch manager for his help. I walked up to his cabin where he was comfortably sitting on his throne carefully observing the proceedings. I slowly pushed the door and entered his room.
"Yes Sir, how may I help you today?" he politely asked with a smile. There it was, that word again. "I have a salary account in your bank. I am applying for a personal loan and that lady over there continues to ask for additional proof of residence." I bombarded him with information.
"Sir, do you live in a rented apartment?" he asked. I almost felt as if someone had put me in a time warp and I was back to the same situation again.
"Yes, I LIVE IN A RENTED APARTMENT. 80% OF PEOPLE DO. THEY ALL HAVE ADDRESS PROOFS. I HAVE SUBMITTED MY AADHAR CARD, MY ADDRESS IS REGISTERED WITH MY ACCOUNT. WHAT ELSE DO YOU GUYS WANT?" I shouted out of frustration.
"Sir, please calm down and have a seat. Could you please explain in detail what documents you have provided so I can understand where the confusion is." Manager was putting all his customer service skills at practice. I sat down and explained all the events but this time in a sequential order.
"Hmm…I can see clearly now. I apologize sir. There has been a certain change in demands of address proof and that is where the confusion comes from. Can I see your application form? " he politely asked. I handed over my last hope at happiness document to him.
"How much loan do you require?"he asked
"1 Lakh" I answered
"Well looking at your account, it seems that you already are paying some EMI's to another bank." The manager said.
"Well yes. But that doesn't mean I can't get a loan. Right?" I asked dreading that the response would be not in my favor.
"I cannot comment sir. We will have to verify your documents and send it to our credit team and hope for the best." "Why don’t you wait outside while I send these for further evaluation." the manager politely requested.
I did not have any choice so I got up and went outside. The wait seemed like eternity. My eyes kept following the application as it moved from one desk to the other. I was running late for my office and this process seem to be taking more time than expected. If my request doesn't come through then I am ruined. I was kicking myself for the EMI's on my account.
Those EMI's were not even for me. They were being paid by my cousin who had bought an Iphone on easy EMI's on my account. I thought that what could go wrong in helping a poor kid. May be he needed that set of hardware to impress his female counterparts. So much for being helpful that now it was standing in my way as a major obstacle.
I called up my office and made an excuse for running late to the office. I needed this application to pass through. It was almost lunch time but I wasn’t seeing any progress. I was getting restless. I stood up and moved around the guardian's counter to see if my application was being processed but no luck. I kept strolling up and down the aisle waiting anxiously for my fate to answer my call. I couldn't wait any longer so I walked up to the manager's cabin.
"Any luck?" my question was short but burdened with all my hope.
"Sir, its lunch time right now. Please wait for some time more as the credit team is working on your application. This usually takes time. We understand your need which is why they are making every effort to make sure that your application passes through. If you are busy you could come tomorrow to check the status." Manager replied politely displaying his immense customer service skills.
Tomorrow was no good. I needed to know today and needed the money urgently. So I decided to sit out and wait. It was almost closing time and I finally saw some movements in the manager's cabin. Something told me this is it.
I observed him carefully as he walked to the door. I knew that time was running out but suppressed to check my watch. I took a deep breath and started counting in reverse under my breath. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six" he was moving straight towards me. Was he empty handed? "Five, four, three, two…
"Mr. Pathak congratulations your loan has successfully been processed." manager announced extending his hand towards me. "You will get your money before 12 noon tomorrow. I hope that is fine with you." he further asked.
"Oh thank GOD." I left a sigh of relief and shook his hand with all the warmth in my body. I was so full of joy that I couldn't say anything to him except shaking his hand vigorously.
"You are welcome sir." He said and turned back towards his cabin. SIR, a word which has been loosely used on me so many times but today I truly felt like one. After all, my wife will now truly enjoy the luxuries of 'Celebrity line' for the next few days during her international holiday.
I wake up with a strange feeling today. It's 18th October, just a day away from a date which is most important for me to remember in order to ensure that my bones are intact; the way GOD intended them to be. I met her fifteen years ago. It was definitely fate and there is no other explanation I could find because of which she would choose me to be her partner. But that story is for another time. Today I am dealing with a problem which is vital for me to solve or else day after tomorrow I am dead meat. Like most men (although they won't admit) I am still madly in love with my wife and would do anything to make her feel special. But the harsh truth is that making someone feel special is directly proportional to having a purse heavily loaded with lots of rectangular shaped paper. This piece of paper has the ability to change the world of a person in a split second.
Throughout my services industry experience, I have learnt that 'Law of Pareto' stands usually correct more often than not (80% of problems arise from 20% of population). Change your perspective and you would know that 80% of the wealth of any country is controlled by 20% of population or may be even less. I happen to be a part of the 80% population which wakes up every day in urge to find out new (and of course easy) ways to mint more money so that they could also experience the style of living the other 20% enjoys. Of course we wake up with the same thought and often go back to sleep with the same. Little can we change eh? Oh by "WE" I meant the service industry people and the others below poverty line. The way I see it, there are 3 vital lines of our country – The Poverty Line, The Taxpayer Line/Service Industry Line and The Celebrity Line. The ones below 'The Celebrity Line' are the rest of 80% which probably need more money for their daily/monthly survival rather than enjoying the luxuries of life.
I was more than aware that I was running out of the green paper and the chances of making my partner feel special on her day were getting slimmer with each day passing. But giving up doesn’t come naturally to me so I continued exploring other avenues through which I may be able to save the day. As I was running out of options, the only thing left was to visit a bank. I was in need of supply and the bank was the source. My partner wouldn't have approved one bit of it but being an emotional freak I took the risk as my intent was to make her day special.
"Token no. 26, Token no. 26" the interactive voice shouted out of its mono stereo channel breaking my thought process. I stood up with shaking legs and stepped forward towards the counter which indicated my token number. This is exactly how I felt when I gave my first job interview. Reluctant steps, thumping heart, no will to go forward yet had to since there was no other alternative. I felt as if I was about to meet my maker. Like Karna of Mahabharata she had all her guards up and shining sitting behind the counter. The pen in her hand was the sword which could make or break my hopes altogether.
"Please have a seat." She said to me politely. Don't put your guard down just because she is beautiful. Remember she is the devil who could rip your heart in an instance. My mind was giving me instructions. I was surely going crazy.
I slowly pulled in the chair and sunk right in it opposite to the guardian of banking galaxy. "Sir, how may I help you today?" she asked politely. "Sir", yeah right. In my opinion, this is definitely one of the most loosely used word in our country. They will address you as Sir, as if you are someone of great importance and they are grateful of your presence. Give them a minute and you are no less than the wrapping paper of a burger which is only useful till the burger lasts with the leaking sauces.
"umm, I would like to, umm, apply for a, ahem, a personal loan." I almost whispered the last words hoping she would completely miss it. "Oh you need a personal loan!!"she almost screamed in excitement. "Hari….Hari….Could you pass me the application form of personal loan. Mr…."
"Pathak…. R K Pathak" I completed her sentence.
"Mr Pathak here needs a personal loan." she shouted out to a guy who was probably sitting all the way over there in the South Pole. I turned around and it seemed like the entire bank was looking at me. They were looking at me as if I was about to commit a heinous crime. It seemed as if even in 21st century taking a personal loan is still considered as low status and is looked down upon. I had never taken a personal loan before so I wouldn't know but all the old rice curry's in the bank definitely made sure that I feel bad about it.
Their eyes were so expressive that for a minute or so I almost felt ashamed of sitting in the bank. "Mr. Pathak, you need to fill up this loan application form. Once you are done, you need to attach self attested proof of income, address and identity along with this form." the guardian instructed from behind the desk.
"Right. I will….ummm… sit over there and fill it up?" I partially pleaded.
"Yes, no problem Sir. Once you are done you can come to this counter again to complete the rest of the formalities." she confirmed. There's that word again.
I almost felt like a goat about to get slaughtered with the only difference being that it at least takes some amount of effort to catch a goat however I walked in on my own. As I was filling up the application form I couldn't help but agree that the process of getting a personal loan couldn't have been more ironical. I felt like a teenage kid who first has to prove to her parents that she is responsible enough to save her pocket money and yet ask for more because she has ran out of it.
I completed the application form and self attested the requisite proof of my existence and earnings. I bundled them altogether and took a deep breath before walking down the aisle towards the dreaded counter.
"Ah…Mr. Pathak. Have you completed your application form. Sir?" thy lady from the counter asked.
"Yes…this is application form. The first attested copy is of my identity and address and the next three are my salary slips." I carefully instructed the sequence of attachments.
"Oh ho…Sir. Do you live in a rented accommodation?" she asked in a tone which signaled trouble all over.
"Yes, I do." I answered reluctantly. This is the ugly side of getting a loan. They will ask you questions in such a way which will make you feel terrible about yourself. If you are one of those few who like to feel bad about yourself then you should apply for a loan once in a while.
"uh huh…we will need another proof of residence besides your Aadhar card." she responded with a demand.
"But it's a government document. Isn't it devised for situations like these?" I questioned back. The thing is that understanding of value of these documents varies from office to office. While certain government offices will hail this card as the one stop documentary proof, the others will outrightly reject the mere idea of submitting them as documentary proof.
"Sir, we need another proof of residence or else we can't accept your application." she raised her eyebrows and replied with authority, immediately indicating who is the boss. She handed my application form back to me and started attending other customers. I sensed a feeling of déjà vu as this was exactly how my mother in law reacted the first time when I asked my wives hand for marriage. COMPLETE IGNORANCE.
"Mam, I have a salary account in your branch and it has the same address." I tried another attempt for submission of my application.
"Sir, as I mentioned earlier we need another proof of residence or else we can't accept your application. Now if you will excuse me, I have other customer waiting." she discarded my logic and flushed it down the humiliation toilet.
She is being unreasonable. I turned around helplessly but there was no one at my rescue. What do I do now? I can’t go back to my house or else my wife would know what I am upto. I can't leave the process in the middle as I needed the green paper.
THE MANAGER.
Instantly I decided to turn towards the branch manager for his help. I walked up to his cabin where he was comfortably sitting on his throne carefully observing the proceedings. I slowly pushed the door and entered his room.
"Yes Sir, how may I help you today?" he politely asked with a smile. There it was, that word again. "I have a salary account in your bank. I am applying for a personal loan and that lady over there continues to ask for additional proof of residence." I bombarded him with information.
"Sir, do you live in a rented apartment?" he asked. I almost felt as if someone had put me in a time warp and I was back to the same situation again.
"Yes, I LIVE IN A RENTED APARTMENT. 80% OF PEOPLE DO. THEY ALL HAVE ADDRESS PROOFS. I HAVE SUBMITTED MY AADHAR CARD, MY ADDRESS IS REGISTERED WITH MY ACCOUNT. WHAT ELSE DO YOU GUYS WANT?" I shouted out of frustration.
"Sir, please calm down and have a seat. Could you please explain in detail what documents you have provided so I can understand where the confusion is." Manager was putting all his customer service skills at practice. I sat down and explained all the events but this time in a sequential order.
"Hmm…I can see clearly now. I apologize sir. There has been a certain change in demands of address proof and that is where the confusion comes from. Can I see your application form? " he politely asked. I handed over my last hope at happiness document to him.
"How much loan do you require?"he asked
"1 Lakh" I answered
"Well looking at your account, it seems that you already are paying some EMI's to another bank." The manager said.
"Well yes. But that doesn't mean I can't get a loan. Right?" I asked dreading that the response would be not in my favor.
"I cannot comment sir. We will have to verify your documents and send it to our credit team and hope for the best." "Why don’t you wait outside while I send these for further evaluation." the manager politely requested.
I did not have any choice so I got up and went outside. The wait seemed like eternity. My eyes kept following the application as it moved from one desk to the other. I was running late for my office and this process seem to be taking more time than expected. If my request doesn't come through then I am ruined. I was kicking myself for the EMI's on my account.
Those EMI's were not even for me. They were being paid by my cousin who had bought an Iphone on easy EMI's on my account. I thought that what could go wrong in helping a poor kid. May be he needed that set of hardware to impress his female counterparts. So much for being helpful that now it was standing in my way as a major obstacle.
I called up my office and made an excuse for running late to the office. I needed this application to pass through. It was almost lunch time but I wasn’t seeing any progress. I was getting restless. I stood up and moved around the guardian's counter to see if my application was being processed but no luck. I kept strolling up and down the aisle waiting anxiously for my fate to answer my call. I couldn't wait any longer so I walked up to the manager's cabin.
"Any luck?" my question was short but burdened with all my hope.
"Sir, its lunch time right now. Please wait for some time more as the credit team is working on your application. This usually takes time. We understand your need which is why they are making every effort to make sure that your application passes through. If you are busy you could come tomorrow to check the status." Manager replied politely displaying his immense customer service skills.
Tomorrow was no good. I needed to know today and needed the money urgently. So I decided to sit out and wait. It was almost closing time and I finally saw some movements in the manager's cabin. Something told me this is it.
I observed him carefully as he walked to the door. I knew that time was running out but suppressed to check my watch. I took a deep breath and started counting in reverse under my breath. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six" he was moving straight towards me. Was he empty handed? "Five, four, three, two…
"Mr. Pathak congratulations your loan has successfully been processed." manager announced extending his hand towards me. "You will get your money before 12 noon tomorrow. I hope that is fine with you." he further asked.
"Oh thank GOD." I left a sigh of relief and shook his hand with all the warmth in my body. I was so full of joy that I couldn't say anything to him except shaking his hand vigorously.
"You are welcome sir." He said and turned back towards his cabin. SIR, a word which has been loosely used on me so many times but today I truly felt like one. After all, my wife will now truly enjoy the luxuries of 'Celebrity line' for the next few days during her international holiday.
