A disclaimer at the very outset is in order. The HP in my post refers to the venerable Indian company, Hindustan Petroleum Corp, not the eponymous computers and printers company which cannot even save itself from ruination let alone saving me.
I get my domestic fuel from the aforementioned HP, a Fortune 500 company, in dirty red steel cylinders. HP does not supply just cooking fuel (LPG) to me. Its services extend to looking after my financial welfare by saving me money, my mental well-being by teaching me the virtues of patience, my physical well-being by saving me from those delectable but dangerous fried foods, and connects me up with a lot of people. To use a trite management jargon, its services encompass 360 degrees. You might wonder how does a fuel company manage to do all these things. Wonder no more for I shall endeavour to capture their generosity in the following paragraphs.
True to its origins, HP is socialist to its core. It came into being thanks to socialist fervour in Indian governing circles. Some might suggest that it had more to do with bloody-mindedness of our then Prime Minister and less to do with wealth distribution. Talk of policies facilitating a few to control the markets through License-Permit Raj is mischievous. That the poor were furiously sliding backwards was an unfortunate consequence of the effort to control the rich from getting richer. The poor were just the collateral damage in the war against wealth.
As I said, HP is socialist. It tries to level the field of energy use by all households. No one can use more than any other so it regulates supplies such that everyone gets just the one cylinder in two months. If not controlled thus, the irresponsible middle and upper classes would over use the LPG and make this world a lot less green. This is supposedly driven by government policy. But HP operates policies far more stringent and redistributive than the government's. This socialist control has some interesting beneficial effects on people like me.
Firstly HP gets us away from our compulsive use of computers and smartphones - You see although you can book your next cylinder on line, you are warned by the friendly HP staff not to do so. Talk of transparency and ease of booking are mischievous and the benefits to consumers are overstated. In order to wean you away from your compulsive web habit, the nice people at HP have made it as hard as possible to use the site. Should you ignore their advice and use the web to book a cylinder, the booking mysteriously evaporates if a) the booking is within 21 days of previous cylinder being delivered, b) a new cylinder is billed but not delivered within 48 hours of billing (which it never is).
By maintaining a gap of minimum two months between cylinders, the nice people at HP ensure that the earth is saved. They are also helping me save money. Where I used to pay for 12 cylinders a year, they are now saving me 6 cylinders worth of money. Given the inexorable rise of fuel prices, this saving is considerable and would normally go to augment one's pension corpus. The fact that I am already retired is not HP's fault, of course. There are bound to be some unintended collateral damage to all good deeds.
I am also saved from a lot of trans-fats which I would be consuming in considerable quantities if only the cooking fuel were more plentiful. Having to make each cylinder of gas last full two months, we do not fry papads, chips and stuff like that. The good people of HP are saving me from hypertension, elevated cholesterol, obesity, clogged arteries, heart attacks and the huge expenses the above conditions entail.
Dealing with HP teaches me to defer gratification. Though initially it was hard, I have gotten used to waiting and to not fretting while I am waiting. I now wait with equanimity bordering on fatalism. This control over the desire for instant gratification and my purchasing impulses has helped me avoid the temptations of new smartphones, tablets, cameras, HDTVs and any number of new-fangled devices, thus adding considerably to me retirement kitty.
In an errant moment when I do pick up the phone to complain, I am greeted by pleasant music long enough to restore my equanimity. Then and only then, if at all, does a human voice breaks the spell. Once again, the effect on me has been nothing short of miraculous. I have started "accepting". The concept of acceptance is at the core of Indian philosophy of life, but forgotten lately in the mistaken belief that man can overcome anything and everything if only he tried hard enough. My question is, and this wisdom is very recent, must we overcome everything? Isn't it pleasanter to coexist? Isn't there space in our universe for everything, including problems?
The good people of HP realise that human networks and interactions play a key role in healthy living, especially in preventing Alheimer's or at least delaying its onset. When I call with a complaint, the pleasant man on the other side connects me to some equally pleasant friends of his who in turn keep passing me like in a game of "pass the parcel". It would be unpleasant were it not for their solicitousness and their concern that I talk to as many different people as they possibly can make me in order that I forge new relationships and friendships - networks that can potentially delay the onset of Alzheimer's.
Some times HP even fosters direct face to face interactions with the people who constitute, in the modern management parlance, their entire supply chain. The other day I was referred to their dealer whose unhelpful attitude precipitated my call in the first place. The latter passed me around every employee in his establishment and then to his "delivery boys". These are the poor sweaty lads that deliver the fully loaded cylinders in their hyper inefficient tricycles, making occasional excursions via local restaurants whose need for fuel they take a sympathetic view of. It was wonderful getting connected and talking to a key link in HP's supply chain. We exchanged pleasant banter with me explaining my desperate need for fuel and them explaining what their sweaty job was like.
HP thinks of everything, even generating employment. You see, when we run short on fuel, we amble down to the neighbourhood eating joints which employ many young people.
I get my domestic fuel from the aforementioned HP, a Fortune 500 company, in dirty red steel cylinders. HP does not supply just cooking fuel (LPG) to me. Its services extend to looking after my financial welfare by saving me money, my mental well-being by teaching me the virtues of patience, my physical well-being by saving me from those delectable but dangerous fried foods, and connects me up with a lot of people. To use a trite management jargon, its services encompass 360 degrees. You might wonder how does a fuel company manage to do all these things. Wonder no more for I shall endeavour to capture their generosity in the following paragraphs.
True to its origins, HP is socialist to its core. It came into being thanks to socialist fervour in Indian governing circles. Some might suggest that it had more to do with bloody-mindedness of our then Prime Minister and less to do with wealth distribution. Talk of policies facilitating a few to control the markets through License-Permit Raj is mischievous. That the poor were furiously sliding backwards was an unfortunate consequence of the effort to control the rich from getting richer. The poor were just the collateral damage in the war against wealth.
As I said, HP is socialist. It tries to level the field of energy use by all households. No one can use more than any other so it regulates supplies such that everyone gets just the one cylinder in two months. If not controlled thus, the irresponsible middle and upper classes would over use the LPG and make this world a lot less green. This is supposedly driven by government policy. But HP operates policies far more stringent and redistributive than the government's. This socialist control has some interesting beneficial effects on people like me.
Firstly HP gets us away from our compulsive use of computers and smartphones - You see although you can book your next cylinder on line, you are warned by the friendly HP staff not to do so. Talk of transparency and ease of booking are mischievous and the benefits to consumers are overstated. In order to wean you away from your compulsive web habit, the nice people at HP have made it as hard as possible to use the site. Should you ignore their advice and use the web to book a cylinder, the booking mysteriously evaporates if a) the booking is within 21 days of previous cylinder being delivered, b) a new cylinder is billed but not delivered within 48 hours of billing (which it never is).
By maintaining a gap of minimum two months between cylinders, the nice people at HP ensure that the earth is saved. They are also helping me save money. Where I used to pay for 12 cylinders a year, they are now saving me 6 cylinders worth of money. Given the inexorable rise of fuel prices, this saving is considerable and would normally go to augment one's pension corpus. The fact that I am already retired is not HP's fault, of course. There are bound to be some unintended collateral damage to all good deeds.
I am also saved from a lot of trans-fats which I would be consuming in considerable quantities if only the cooking fuel were more plentiful. Having to make each cylinder of gas last full two months, we do not fry papads, chips and stuff like that. The good people of HP are saving me from hypertension, elevated cholesterol, obesity, clogged arteries, heart attacks and the huge expenses the above conditions entail.
Dealing with HP teaches me to defer gratification. Though initially it was hard, I have gotten used to waiting and to not fretting while I am waiting. I now wait with equanimity bordering on fatalism. This control over the desire for instant gratification and my purchasing impulses has helped me avoid the temptations of new smartphones, tablets, cameras, HDTVs and any number of new-fangled devices, thus adding considerably to me retirement kitty.
In an errant moment when I do pick up the phone to complain, I am greeted by pleasant music long enough to restore my equanimity. Then and only then, if at all, does a human voice breaks the spell. Once again, the effect on me has been nothing short of miraculous. I have started "accepting". The concept of acceptance is at the core of Indian philosophy of life, but forgotten lately in the mistaken belief that man can overcome anything and everything if only he tried hard enough. My question is, and this wisdom is very recent, must we overcome everything? Isn't it pleasanter to coexist? Isn't there space in our universe for everything, including problems?
The good people of HP realise that human networks and interactions play a key role in healthy living, especially in preventing Alheimer's or at least delaying its onset. When I call with a complaint, the pleasant man on the other side connects me to some equally pleasant friends of his who in turn keep passing me like in a game of "pass the parcel". It would be unpleasant were it not for their solicitousness and their concern that I talk to as many different people as they possibly can make me in order that I forge new relationships and friendships - networks that can potentially delay the onset of Alzheimer's.
Some times HP even fosters direct face to face interactions with the people who constitute, in the modern management parlance, their entire supply chain. The other day I was referred to their dealer whose unhelpful attitude precipitated my call in the first place. The latter passed me around every employee in his establishment and then to his "delivery boys". These are the poor sweaty lads that deliver the fully loaded cylinders in their hyper inefficient tricycles, making occasional excursions via local restaurants whose need for fuel they take a sympathetic view of. It was wonderful getting connected and talking to a key link in HP's supply chain. We exchanged pleasant banter with me explaining my desperate need for fuel and them explaining what their sweaty job was like.
HP thinks of everything, even generating employment. You see, when we run short on fuel, we amble down to the neighbourhood eating joints which employ many young people.
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