After a long day, I entered the Haldiram food outlet at the Sahara Mall this weekend. I was exhausted and hungry. Worse. There was a long queue. The lady at the counter buying food coupons was confused. One Chola Bhatura…no…Two Aloo Tikki…Okay. Make it one Chola Bhatura and one Aloo Tikki.
Gosh..Woman, make up your mind. In that moment I was thinking like a man.
There was more.
Finally when the confused lady left, I was behind four gentlemen in the queue. Suddenly a pleasant smell invaded my nostrils. Dior…or was it Ralph Lauren. A perfectly crafted female aware of her potent looks barged in. She had perhaps picked up her body parts from a catalogue. The femme fatale went ahead and placed her order. Unmindful of the long queue she said… “One veg sandwich.”
“Hello, lady. There is a queue here,” I protested.
She gave me a disdainful look and said, “I am in a hurry. I just want one sandwich.”
So? Didn’t I wait for good fifteen minutes for one dosa? In order to garner support, I looked at the uncle ji ahead of me.
Unccle ji’s gaze was fixed somewhere else….Just below her neck. Overawed by the bombshell and her attitude, he didn’t speak a word.
Meanwhile the lady paid, and went ahead to get her veg sandwich. I was still standing in the queue. I looked at the gentleman behind me. His eyes were following the femme fatale. There was no point expecting help.
How often do we use gender and looks it to our advantage?
Being a woman coupled with drop dead gorgeous looks, can make things easier.
To get a seat if people are jostling or to get an auto if it is getting dark is fine. But to break the queue, to avoid parking offences, or to neglect work using ‘I am a woman card’ is nauseating!