Membership has its privileges

The advantage of Air France, of course, is that they speak French. I mean, they speak French and English, so for a student of French (yours truly), that comes in handy when trying to learn the language. Their magazine is bilingual so you can while away your time trying to figure out how much French you know.

There are brief moments when I enjoy other benefits too. You see, I fly to Aix en Provence once or twice a year to teach. So I accumulate some miles. Their Frequent Flyer program maintains a caste system. You start at the Silver level, then graduate to Gold, Platinum, and then, I’m sure, a higher level that the rest of us don’t know about. When you move from one level to the next (depending on the miles you have accumulated) you get a different color card, and tags for your bags. Of course, a higher caste lets you stand in a separate line to check in, use of their lounge at the airport (internet for a fee, perhaps free at the next level?), and so on.

The funny thing is that since benefits are attached to the level (try entering their lounge with a Silver card and they will call the police), you are now in a quandary and have to make trade-offs. Do you keep the miles and dream about the benefits you would enjoy if you traveled, or do you use the miles to get a free ticket and lose the privileges since you are now at a lower level?

So, I used some miles to get a one-way ticket to Bangalore (no, I am not settling down there yet) and enjoyed the privilege of their lounge in Paris (free food too!), and a Gold card that let me board the flight with the first class passengers. I noticed a difference in my step as I stood in that line. So, there, till they re-calculate my privileges.

But wait, there is a flaw in the system. When you board, you can still flash your Gold card even though you may actually be a lowly Silver. Your caste is supposed to be printed on the boarding card too, but with a crowd pushing behind you like the line at Tirupati, they let you through. It doesn’t work at the Lounge though. There a fellow, with all the time in the world, punches your number into his computer and checks your current status. Police!

But these transcontinental airlines certainly know a few things that the pretenders need to learn. I flew US Airways from Philadelphia to Milan. First, there was an announcement that you could get headphones for $5 or 5 euros. This should have warned me of things to come. (They think $5 is the same as 5 euros!). After paying $1240.55 for the ticket, they now want an additional $5 for headphones. I declined. They must have immediately put a mark against my name. When the meals cart rolled by, I asked for my special meal. The stewardess looked at me (I know those looks) and said let me check. Then she got back saying they did not have any, but I could take the pasta meal they had which was vegetarian anyway. Sure, it was, but floating in cheese!

Do clothes maketh the man?

I was just returning from seeing a show of the works of Sreshta and others at GallerySKE. I got into an auto at the corner of Vittal Mallya Road to go to Malleswaram when the auto driver asked me a question that I was not sure I understood. So I leaned across and asked him to repeat it. He wanted to know what my profession was! (He actually used the word ‘profession’ although his question was in Kannada.) As I paused to digest the question, he went on to ask me if I was an artist and followed it up with an explanation that artists normally wear pyjama and kurta (my dress at that time). I replied to him in Hindi that I was a teacher.

Clearly the auto driver was in a chatty mood and not willing to give up easily. About 10 minutes into the ride, he wanted to know at which school I was a teacher. I replied that the school was in Madras. ‘Ah’, he continued. ‘A drawing teacher?’ I decided to put him out of his misery and said, ‘Yes.’ He was certainly pleased that I seemed to conform his stereotype.

I decided to keep a watch and see how many people wore pyjama jurta in Bangalore. Not many, really. There were quite a few around the mosques but not otherwise. I wondered why the dress had been relegated to the art community; perhaps they need the freedom of movement to produce good art.

My classmate Surendra, who teaches at three colleges locally as a part-time instructor told me that when he retired and took up a career as an adjunct professor, he decided that he would wear a tie to class. He just thought it made a difference. It certainly did when he wanted to visit the Indian Institute of Management at Bangalore with his nephew, an architect from Kerala, who wanted to take some pictures of the buildings and classrooms. (He was working on a project designing a business school.) They were stopped at the gates of IIMB and asked if they had an appointment and who they were going to see. Surendra says he replied, ‘Director’and was waved in without further ado. He attributes it to his wearing a tie!

Prem was rather upset at the inefficiencies of bank managers and lower executives who always give him the run-around when he is trying to make a deposit or arrange a withdrawal. But his recent experience at Corporation Bank was rather pleasant. The young ‘Personal Investments’ Officer was quite helpful and offered to come all the way to the Valley School (from Malleswaram, about 30 kms) to discuss deposit options. But Prem was concerned with his attire. Apparently the young man wore jeans, a casual shirt, and a jeans jacket, with a chain around his neck that was quite prominent. Next to him was a young woman, staring at the same computer screen (‘an intern or trainee’ thought Prem) who seemed to be dressed as though she was headed to a party (with make-up to boot). Prem wondered about the bank that seemed to allow such casual dress habits.

What do you make out of these vignettes?