Time to break the piggy bank
This month, I will have taken a record number of early morning departures around the country, and if the experience of the last few is any indication, it’s going to be a month of unslept nights.
The trouble started when the new administration head decided on some tightening of the proverbial belt and pulling up of pants with its immediate bearing on my travel schedule. If I had a meeting at 10 in the morning, why did I need to arrive at the destination the previous evening, thereby burdening the company with the requirement of a hotel room that was wholly unnecessary? If I was attending a reception in the evening, why did I ask for a late flight, for wasn’t I drinking and partying on company account without also wanting the concession of a late sleep-in and later checkout? Besides, the auditor reported that dawn flights were cheaper.
Coffee machine conversations were picked up and presented to the executive council as proof of squandering of funds on unnecessary perks. Wasn’t I vocal in my criticism of airline food? Yes? Then the company was withdrawing its complimentary meal option on board flights. Cribbed about the laughable difference between deluxe and standard rooms in hotels? Then it was certainly not worth paying the difference as a matter of prestige. Having withdrawn its favours, I was left to fend for myself just when the government decided to demonetise the only currency I had on me. “No,” said the air hostess, “we do not accept illegal tender,” leaving me without hope of breakfast or coffee on flights. My Uber would not accept cash either. From bellhops to concierges, everyone refused gratuity with a disdainful wave of their hands.
I was further disadvantaged because my bank had issued a new debit card while discontinuing the old one. Customer service was overwhelmed and unable to generate a PIN. As for stopping by at an ATM to get one, just the thought of joining a mile-long queue was enough to keep the hunger pangs at bay. My recourse was to make a meal of the starters at the reception, never mind that it seemed to consist only of sour cream morsels.
Meanwhile, I had my piggy bank of coins for use in an emergency — and this qualified as one. I held up the queue at airport security on the red-eye to Bengaluru when an official wanted to check whether I was sneaking bullion by way of change. I think I’m going to have fun paying for Uber in coins, and if the bellboy wants a tip, he’s going to have to count a hundred ~1 coins, making him earn his gratuity with more than just an upheld palm.