Men are men-powering government-job...

The fact that any office in India look just like the way it looked when the British just left it, is pretty obvious. The way that the Indians are working is very much similar to the stories I heard about the Israeli HISTADRUT in the 60's, and this is understandable too. A government job is considered a very good one, it is well paid and it is very stable and secure. Once you are ranked highly enough you can find jobs for your whole family. Still what stroke me when experiencing the Indian office work, is its pace: India's bureaucracy is very primitive and slow, but an Indian office-worker, doesn't try to look busy or to make you feel he has too much work to do. He just wait between every task he is doing. Yahel's mother calls it: "They are waiting to this thing that Indians are waiting for"... no-one knows exactly what it is but it happens everywhere. I went to the bank to withdraw some cash money. There are no ATMs, but Indian banks are already familiar with international credit cards. In Dharamsala they even let you call by phone in advance, and after few hours you can come and get the money. This is what I did. When I got to the bank, I was immediately sited in front of a clerk. He takes my credit card and my passport and photo-copies of it that I had to prepare in advance. He checks thoroughly all the papers. I check him carefully as well. He has scars of burns all over his face, he looks very much Indian... He looks back at me, at the passport, at me again, then at my credit card.  My credit card has no signature, I offer him to sign it on the spot. He is very unhappy... He asks for a different card. Luckily I have a different one and it is signed. He checks the passport again, the passport is not signed either, now he is quite mad. "I got this new passport just before leaving" I try to explain, and I sign the passport as well. He compares all these signatures, he is not happy at all but he accepts it. He fills up some papers and put them aside. He still has all my documents and we are waiting. He looks around, talks with his colleagues, I keep looking at him and at the papers that he filled, lying on his desk. Maybe someone has to pick them up. Maybe it is being collected once an hour. I continue raising solutions to this mystery while staring at him. Nothing happens. It is just like staring at your computer just after it reboots - you are in the middle of a task, you are helpless, and you hope you pressed save before it crashed. Suddenly, the clerk is taking out a credit-card carbon form, and the small plastic machine-"the iron", as was in use 10 years ago. Good, this is a procedure I can recall. He fills the credit card form and let me sign, then he puts it all to his right and we wait. I look at him, and he looks in front of him, right where I sit. It is as if he is waiting an answer from me, but no - his eyes are focused somewhere behind me. Maybe he thinks of his lunch, maybe his kid, maybe the ink on the papers has to dry. Ok, few more papers are moving and he seems satisfied. He gives me a token and sends me to another clerk to collect the money. Good, some new face to look at, for the process of giving the token and getting cash money. Eventually it was working, after an hour in the bank, I get cash money. It is just like an A.T.M only a bit slow, but it gives more employment to men...