Kishore Singh: Professional hazards

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There's this friend who tells a great story about shop owners in Ahmedabad. They wave two fingers in the air and make a great deal about ordering tea whenever customers enter the shop.

But it appears there's a code to their hospitality. If they wiggle their fingers left to right, they're telling the tea boy that the customer isn't buying yet, so hold the brew, but if they waggle the fingers up and down, it means the customers have bit the bait, and so to get the tea.

"I don't know what's so funny about it," grumbled my wife after our friend had told us the story for the umpteenth time, "it's just a business proposition. After all, you wouldn't offer tea to strangers, would you?"

"Just because somebody buys something from you," I explained, "it doesn't mean they're friends." "Of course not," retorted my wife, "but at least they're business acquaintances."

"What you're saying," I responded wearily, "is that you have somebody stopping by at home, and you'd like me to look after them." "That's so crassly put," said my wife.

"Just because I work from home, and have customers stopping in every now and then, doesn't mean I shouldn't be hospitable to them." "These new customers," I asked, "how hospitable do you want me to be with them?"

"That depends on what they're buying," said my wife. "Initially, plain water will do fine, but if you see them setting aside any jewellery that uses semi-precious stones, be sure to have the maid come with tea and coffee."

"Tea and coffee," I wrote down against semi-precious stones. "If they show any interest in silver," she continued, "be sure the maid carries in a plate of the cake she baked this morning."

"Cake," I wrote against silver. "And if they want to buy my rubies, or emeralds," my wife said, "you must step in yourself and offer to serve them wine."

"Wine," I exploded, "you want to serve your customers wine that I collect and store for my friends. Why, you're behaving just like those shopkeepers in Ahmedabad."

"I am not a shopkeeper," said my wife, "I am a designer, and I must treat my workplace like a salon where, in case you did not know, the finest beverages must be served to those who, er, have a fine eye for my designs."

"And what do you intend to serve those of your customers who come to buy gold?" I asked sarcastically. "I'm afraid you'll have to extend an invitation to their spouses for drinks in the evening," my wife explained.

"Just think of it as a business thing. Don't I?" she continued, "entertain your professional colleagues?" "That's different," I suggested, "I'm a professional." "And what am I?" my wife turned on me, "Non-professional?"

I would have said yes, but fearing her temper, I merely hung my head. "Look," said my wife, "just think of it as a necessary function to create the right business environment. If someone places a really large order, I will feel obliged to call them with their families for dinner. All you will need to do is be polite, but not too friendly, or else they'll think they can demand a discount. The maid can cook them a simple meal." "But what about the cost?" I asked. "I'll put it down to business expenses," she calmed me down.

"However, I may get some really posh customers, in which case we'll probably have to order a nice meal home from some fancy restaurant." "Why can't you entertain them on your own?" I cribbed.

"Don't be silly," she smiled, "you have to be there, particularly after I've told them that you have cooked the meal especially for them."