Applications and Banks...

I thought I would wait for tomorrow to write this post, but I could not resist logging in to pen down my experiences of today (is it right to say pen down for a blog? Punch in sounds very um, ATMish or mobile phonish... or maybe even boxerish). I had such an, ahem, wonderful experience, that I need to get it out before the masala fades from my mind.

I think the one word that Indians associate with the government is inefficiency. And especially so when it comes to governement banks. My experience today only served to vindicate that opinion. I needed to buy an application form from the bank and since I thought it was a rather simple thing, it wouldn't take time. Hence, even though I was in a frantic hurry and incredibly short of time, I went to the bank.

I walked into the bank and as usual, had no clue which counter to go to. Normally, I just ask the person at the first counter I see and they redirect me (after glaring at me or surveying me with pity) but today, there were long lines at each counter. Ok, not lines but a general crowd around the counter. I could hardly get a look at the person behind the counter, much less ask for directions. In desperation, I asked a random person passing by where they sold the application form and she told me with disgust that she didn't work in the bank. (I don't know whether the disgust was because I had thought she worked in this particular bank or whether it was because I was the only dork who could confuse a bank employee with a normal person).

Finally, I found the counter (it was the only one with just one customer and it was located where no one could see it) and rushed to the person there.
"Application. For < >." I gasped.
The man behind the counter (M) looked at me with surprise.
M: Madam, please sit down. I need to attend to this person first. Please wait.
I: How long?
M (Decides I no longer exist and ignoring me, turns to the other customer): Sir, it says on the computer that your account has been deleted.
The customer wailed saying he had not yet closed it and was using it currently and M looked at him blankly. Helpfully he told the man: It says so in my computer records.
The customer looked like he would start sobbing at the counter and M picked up the phone and spoke for a long time. Then he told the man to wait.
In a flash, I was at the counter. "Application."
M looked annoyed. "Madam, please wait. I told you." And he disappeared.
For ten minutes, Customer and I sat on the couch, he looking miserable and me glaring at him for causing the delay. We watched M go up and down, past his seat, into various cubicles, into a room, come back to his chair, move the mouse around very significantly and then finally, he called Customer to tell him what to do.
Customer was moved greatly and after profusely thanking M and almost being pushed by me past the damn counter, made his way out of the bank.
I hopefully positioned myself in front of the counter again.
"Yes, Madam." M looked at me inquisitively. He had totally erased me from his memory.
"Application." I said, half annoyed, half pleading.
He looked at me blankly. Evidently, he didn't remember which application this was. Finally, he nodded and pulled open the drawer of his desk.
Just then a lady came into the cubicle. "Yenna aacchu?" She asked in Tamil. (What happened)
M started a long winded explanation on how the computer had been wrong and how it had shown the customer's account as non existent when actually it was very much in use. I tapped my foot, tapped my fingers on the desk and moved all over the place, but M would not budge from the monologue, his hand still on the open drawer.
After both of them had a hearty laugh and the lady dragged her feet to her own impatient customers, M finally handed over my form. I filled it in two seconds (I swear I have never filled anything so fast) and handed it over.
Then began the process of entering the application details into the computer. M banged the mouse twice on the mouse pad, adjusted the monitor and then began searching for whatever it was he needed to enter the details. He muttered constantly under his breath and with painstaking care, entered the number of the form on the keyboard.
Finally, eons after I had entered the bank, he handed over the form and the prospectus to me.
I practically ran out of the bank, just to be stopped at the door by the gaurd.
"Sir is calling you." He said, pointing in M's direction.
I sighed, and walked back to the counter. "Yes?" I said, wondering if he had entered the details wrong and would give me another application.
"Madam, you haven't given me the money."