Do you want shaving foam with your dosa?

A particular incident in Trivandrum highlighted the nature of customer service available today to middle class Indians.

I was on a budget as I traveled the south of India and had decided to spend in the $35 to $40 per night range for air conditioned accommodations in any of the medium size cities I was visiting.  Due to undue tourist interest in certain locales some properties commanded premiums but for the most part either through smart negotiating and help of some of the unknown contacts that had pre arranged my lodging at a discount I was able to hit my target range.

 Now comes the service part.  My last stop on the way back to Pune involved a night in Trivandrum.  When I showed up for check in there were two demure gals in traditional Indian sarees to welcome me to the hotel.  They began by mumbling a whole bunch of something that I could not follow.

Now I know my hearing is probably going - forties and all but I swear they were below 20 decibels across the desk with some other ambient sound that I could not make out anything they said.  I had to lean over and actually ask them to repeat themselves.  First I cannot understand why two people are talking to me at check in when one would do.  It also happens at the Marriott when you are making your paperwork there are people with juices wandering in your vicinity and get you all distracted.

I think they all want to help but they fall over each other a lot.  And they keep calling you sir.  So that is the only word I could hear - Sir.  But not the stuff after it.  Like what time was breakfast or if there was a swimming pool onsite or your rate will be... things I care about.

So after having got some basic info out of the way I realized I had to get breakfast because they were closing it in 20 mins.  So I rushed to the room and ran back down - after having come off an early morning train from Kanyakumari and starving since munching on some leftover chikki (sweet brittle) last night.

I made it as they were already closing out the buffet but the lady at the door mumbled I could get something from the kitchen.  So I asked what was available and got a soft spoken staccato reply listing items that might have been on the buffet menu.  I stopped her at Masala Dosa and went for it.  She then came back and offered Masala Omelet too.   Now what was a Masala Omelet?

Not with potato curry stuffed in it I asked?  No no - it means it has onion and tomato.  Alright that works.  So she comes back and asks how my stay has been so far.  I told her I had been on property only for the last 14 minutes since coming off the train.

So then she went on inquired in hushed tones if I want some foam with it?

I was not sure what could go with foam or what foam she might be talking about.  So I had to ask her to explain and she did.  She said I had just come off the train and perhaps I would like some shaving foam or other sundries.  I was not sure how to react.

Why of all places was this sareed Mallu lady as polite as she was finding this opportune moment to discuss my cosmetic needs?  May be she could tell I needed a shave badly?  I didn't have the heart to tell her that I was jet lagged and feet scalded, but on an adrenaline rush that had taken me this far with very little sleep so I smiled back and nodded.

When I got back to the room there was a set of razor blade and foam waiting for me to get the stubble off.