Being Status-Conscious

For those of the same vintage as this scribe - that is, people who have grown up on a diet of Hindi and Thamizh movies from the 60s - `being status conscious' could unfailingly trigger one specific image.  That of a pipe-smoking and aristocratic-looking gent, striking an exaggeratedly regal posture, in the midst of a pompous and declamatory monologue (no one dared interrupt him!) to his family members. This completely subjugated and distraught bunch would invariably be feverishly wringing their hands trying to extract the last vestiges of whatever juice was available therein.  The patriarch would declare imperiously, while nailing with a malevolent look his only daughter who nurtures utterly misplaced rebellious thoughts of marrying a common man - `How dare you think that a wealthy man of high status in the society like me would accept that low-life ruffian as my son-in-law!! Over my dead body!!'.  All the while menacingly waving that unmistakable prop, the gold-capped cane walking stick and flashing at least ten assorted rings on his fingers on one hand - the other hand usually would have been tucked behind his back or twirling his moustache and either way visibility as to the number of rings on that extension was impeded!! But this author for one knows that this malady of being status conscious has afflicted not only the aristocracy but the various strata of society all the way down, so long as there is a perception that there is space for one further rung below.

A couple of years back, our housekeeper had been complaining that his mobile phone has been giving him grief (he has a right to be aggrieved because he spends one third his waking time and a considerable chunk of his take-home salary on that contraption, the excuse being he is away from his family in Nepal and needs constant dialogue, mostly animated and frequently agitated).  So, when we moved to smartphones, we gave one of our Blackberries to him.  Within ten minutes of taking it from us with a huge smile, he returned with a scowl of disappointment and vented his displeasure `but, this is not a touch-screen phone'.  We were more than puzzled because his expertise with the phone did not extend to internet, games, downloaded movies, music or email; he is one of those classic users of the mobile phone as a means of high-decibel oral communication!  So, my dear wife attempted to demystify the situation and asked him why he needed such a phone just to talk.  He flummoxed us saying `people like shopkeepers, gas delivery guys and newspaper boys, way below my status in life sport such phones, so how can I be seen carrying something less'?  The look on his face clearly admonished us - `how could educated people like you be so naive'! We knew any rationale about the Blackberry being more expensive would not cut ice with him and kept our counsel.

Once a few of us were on a business trip from Bombay to Bangalore and as status symbols went those days, a couple of us had tickets booked in business class.  A relationship manager also had  accompanied us and even though he did not merit the business class status (shame on him!), he had fully leveraged sub-clause 6, point (xiv) of the expense rules, which decreed that if he accompanied seniors who flew business class, he would also be grudgingly allowed to fly the same class as a parasite.  In Bangalore airport, while returning, this relationship manager met the promoter of a well-known IT company whom he had been desperately wooing for a while to expand the business relationship and got chatting enthusiastically.  He made it a point to tell us the seniors under the breath that he intended to sit next to the `customer' on the flight to milk the opportunity. We had boarded the plane and taken our seats when the pretender-to-business-class entered with the trophy-customer and politely waited for the latter to be seated.  Horror of horrors, the promoter-customer, kept walking towards the back of the plane, indicating that he always flew economy!!  Now, our man had to choose either temporary `status' or score brownie points with the customer.  Wisely, he renounced his aspirations to higher status, abdicated his business class seat to the gentleman who had occupied the middle seat next to the business honcho's and continued his pow-wow, in the hope of snaring some incremental business eventually.  I forget whether he succeeded or the sacrifice went waste!

We know of some people doling out lakhs in donations to send their kids to schools favoured by the rich and famous, even though more academically oriented schools, which also tend to impart better values, are easily available.  The objective is not so much to `educate' the children well (practically speaking, there is no need for that, given that the parents already are rolling in wealth) but the ability to crow in parties that their children are friends with the progeny of Page3 crowd and they themselves are on first-name-basis with other influential parents including some celebrities.

Aren't you familiar with individuals who, till the other day, were eating street food with you in a group in Fort area of Bombay or VV Puram in Bangalore (taste and affordability being the principal drivers here), licking their fingers and relishing every bit of things on offer, but flip abruptly after a few years of good life and `growth' ??  They refuse to be seen in the same places and we are not talking of public figures but ordinary mortals like us doing well in life financially and otherwise.  Primary reason for this is obviously the reluctance to be associated with paraphernalia linked to one's earlier, somewhat lower status in life.   Few people do rise above all this and manage to keep the equilibrium, but not many.  One is not snivelling about this, but just stating a fact of life.

Recently a friend, a self-made man from humble beginnings but currently of reasonable wealth, recounted how he shocked his hosts in Madras, when he went there to attend an engagement ceremony.  This is a no-nonsense, practical and down-to-earth individual who does not pay heed to the `norms' of a status-driven-life and does his own things, disregarding all the bemused stares coming his way while he is at it.  Apparently he landed at the hosts' bungalow in the heart of the city in an auto-rickshaw, that despicable yellow contraption, since he did not see the need for hiring a car just for that morning.  After the ceremony, the host came out to send this friend off and looked for an upmarket car, could not find any and asked how the latter had come.  When he found out the truth, the host went into tremors and insisted on summoning his own Merc for the return trip - all the time going into convulsions as to `how can you take an auto-rickshaw'! As if ebola was lurking dangerously in that mode of transport.  The friend remarked that it was just as well the host did not see him arrive or else his entry could have been prohibited, their long friendship be damned!  Ironically, the same status-conscious people don't think anything of taking mass transit or tube or subway while on foreign shores; some compromises to status are acceptable obviously and even preferable, especially when you have the shroud of anonymity to cover you in an alien environment.