Image credits: Arvind Puri and BalaSub
One of the most baffling encounters I had was with a vending machine - not just any ordinary vending machine, but a manned vending machine. I approached it with an intent of buying one of the magazines that stood in the spiral-shelves. However, before I could put my money in the cash slot a friendly soul asked me what I would like. He had a badge and uniform (of sorts) and this being an airport, I assumed he had some authority and I told him of my request. Upon hearing my selection he took my money and typed in the selection number for my choice. We both watched the spirals turn and the magazine drop (along with my jaw). He then proceeded to open the vending machine door to reveal to the internal mechanics and a small container of cash notes/coins from which he gave me my change - he also helpfully handed me the magazine from the collection drawer.Surely the machine was broken, I thought, and this was not a normal way of working a vending machine? Assuming the machine was broken, I was still amazed that an engineer hadn’t just come to fix it - and that you would actually have a person (full-time???) to stay besides the machine to serve the customers. But the machine wasn’t broken, and upon further investigation I realised that many vending machines in India seem to be manned. The vending machine had an attendant constantly seeing to the customers. At the end of the day he emptied the cash and went home. This, of course, is ineffect no different than a guy selling magazines stack on a shelf. Surely the whole point of a vending machine was that there was no need for someone to attend to it? But this being India, this is how it works.
During my week long stay, I began to notice other extraordinary uses for the humble human:
The swanky Leela Palace Hotel in Bangalore seems to have human-sign posts standing in the middle of their entry road, just past the entry gate. The two “signers” stood back to back, pointing oncoming traffic to either side of the road. They were in no way actually guiding traffic (a separate individual took care of that)- rather each of the two seemed responsible for just pointing - though, of course they did this a bit more animatedly than an inanimate sign.
The ticket machines at car park entrances seem to also be another popular gadget that requires old fashioned elbow-grease. An operative stands guard at the gate with his sole duty to press the enter/issue button, pull out the ticket from the machine and hand it over to the car driver ( less than 2 feet away).
So why on earth would you go to such extremes to use man power…? Could the vending machine be left unattended and allow the customers to help themselves, could the drivers not push the button and pull out their own tickets and could you not just have a sign pointing to the side of the road you should be on?
An Indian friend pointed out that in the case of the vending or ticket machine many Indian customers may not be familiar with them and that there’s a small possibility of them becoming confused, possibly breaking them. In India, he pointed out, it would probably cost a small fortune to fix these machines. And in the case of the “signers” – they are more visible so probably less likely to be hit/damaged by erratic drivers than any signs that may need replacing/repainting every so often. And of course, the human-helpers in India are versatile as well as cheap - the “signers” could sweep the road, give directions if need be and would probably dodge any car that maybe haplessly heading towards them.
India faces an interesting paradox. When its rapid progress inevitably meets the readily available source of cheap labour, it fails to change or move forward as one might expect - it fails to work in what we might consider a ‘conventional’ manner. It works in extremes of embracing technological change whilst being unable to let go of its age old ways of getting things done. However, this land of extremes adapts easily to extremes - and will continue to embrace what comes its way whilst making it work its own way.
