Quality where art thou?

Edison said,"“There's a way to do it better - find it.” He was a clever man, one I still admire, not just for his inventions, but his astute observations about various aspects of life. If he had walked into IVS Local here in Thupaai, I am pretty certain that he would have despaired!

This country thrives on its attestation, stamping, certification, endorsement, etc business. Understandable. After all there are no taxes, so there's got to be a way to make money. One such enterprise is IVS Local, an organisation that "attests" a lot of documents for the Indian citizenry here. The Embassy I guess couldn't handle it or just got someone who could monetise it better for them. What they call as outsourcing. When the primaries do a bad job, one can imagine how the outsourced secondaries perform. I exaggerate, of course! I am sure IVS Local do a grand job. My observation was that they could do better.

We are in the process of sponsoring a "maid" to stay with us (Khobragade Amman Thunai). Despite holding "phoren" passports, we were expected to swear (don't get excited) on an affidavit that this lady was not related to either of us (husband / wife), given that we are OCI card holders (Saturn never far away however far you run from it, eh!)

The Token

When you want your certificate - of some import for your sustenance here - attested, you go to their office in North Metha. It is located in the second floor of a commercial building. One has to get a token from the front desk before you can be served. A concept very commendable and close to my heart. Given that most of this country is occupied by Indians, I can only surmise that IVS is overwhelmed by the sheer volumes that cross their portals every day. So, in their infinite wisdom they have limited the service to 300 "general" tokens per day (not sure what "general" means; perhaps a special token allows you to be rejected with kid gloves?). 

The Queue

To get these tokens we have to queue up (the doors open at 8am). Of course, this serpentine queue starts from the elevator door, trailing through the corridors, with people jostling for space when they have to pass you in the narrow corridor. And clearly the builders of this complex did not foresee people like me with BMI's of 30 plus infesting these narrow lanes. Each "passing" of an individual resulted in various parts of my anatomy being introduced abrasively to other beings. 

The Vet

After a fashion you reach the front desk where two extremely patient and tolerant ladies "vet" your case (by the time you are done most of Thupaai knows why you are there and some souls nearby actually tut tut for your miserable existence). They then announce that you are eligible for a token (I was about to whoop out in joy but had the pre-emptive firm hand of my wife on my shoulder). 

The Halls

Having secured access into the hallowed halls of IVS, I beamed looking at the world around me, mouthing mentally, "My fellow men and women, I, too, have arrived!"). When I say halls, don't take it too literally. I was being facetious. It is one hall! About 30 x 30 feet in my expert reckoning. I could identify 6 different odours within the first 10 seconds after entering this hall. All from individuals standing nearby. None of them pleasant. I had to swat a wrist that was trying to feel my derriere. When you enter this building complex, be prepared to shed the concept of personal space near the security gate. Amidst the din of about a thousand people conversing or shouting, there was a voice calling out some numbers. I gathered that this was some random guy calling your token number to go get your "attested" stuff or whatever you came in for. Of course, one tiny corner in this hall had a desk with a plastic plate DELIVERY inscribed sitting on it's top. As expected this desk was not populated by anyone. Perhaps I couldn't see that far, so thick was the flow of traffic. There were chairs - those chain of steel chairs that seats five to six in one row jobbies - everywhere! And every single one occupied. The rest of us standing, some on other's feet too. 

A Counter Too Far

There was this red LED light thingy that informs you the token number and the counter you are supposed to go to, hanging on the far wall, below which were laid out 6-7 service desks. By the time we got in (our token no was 262) it was about 9 am. And we had to be at work by 11 and 12 respectively. The token being served was 72. Hope springs eternal! Whilst we were engaged in some nimble game of changing the squares we were standing in, the clock was ticking. It's during these times that you start grasping the concept of time dilation. The LED number showed up 90 after an hour (even with 7 desks, processing 18 per hour, given my poor mathematical skills = my wife tells me it will be too late for us to go to work if we waited for our turn). Tails tucked we retreated with heavy hearts only to girdle ourselves up for another day to face this drama again.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist or even a MBA graduate, for that matter(!), to realise that this entire thing can be choreographed in a much better and saner way.

1. People walk in. (no vetting; provide a separate information counter elsewhere - ground floor lobby or in a separate hall)

2. Take tokens.

3. Go to counter when called.

4. Present your case / documents. 

5. Arrange for "attested" documents to be picked up at specified time slot on a given date. Deliver it at home for extra charge.

6. Charge extra and provide a premium service. Open VIP counters.

7. Get a bigger "hall" or halls even. Clearly, it's a flourishing business!

8. Close late.

By continuing the way you are, you lay the foundations for failure. 

Enakku Thamizh la pidikkaadha rendey vaarthaigal - chalta hai!