<div>I don’t think I am Fortune’s favourite. Things never fall into my lap. It would be no exaggeration to say that I have to put two hundred per cent effort into whatever I do. Though it is good to know that what little I achieve , I owe entirely to my hard work, I would be less than human if I didn’t yearn for dame luck to smile on me at least once in a long while.<br /><br />Here is the most recent example of my travails. The KEB (Karnataka Electricity Board) meter reader gave me two copies of a form. He asked me to sign one and took it handing the other to me. In response to my query, he explained that I had to pay an additional deposit as we had exceeded our quota of power. I asked him how to go about it. He said that I had to pay the specified amount at the KEB office and obtain a receipt.<br /><br />I requested my daily help to pay it as she passes the post office to and from work. She said that the counter was closed by the time she reached it. I had the distinct feeling that she hadn’t gone there at all. “Self help,” I muttered, deciding to handle the job myself. The daily help was oddly reluctant to let me do so. <br /><br />“The counter closes at 1 pm. Your trip will be wasted,” she warned me. It was ten to one, so I shrugged off her objections and strode purposefully in the direction of the KEB office. It was only then I realised why my daily help had tried to fob me off. In big block letters was the sign: LUNCH BREAK 1.30 pm-2.15 pm.<br /><br />I joined the serpentine queue. It kept moving even if it wasn’t at a brisk pace. I inched my way to the counter. I was fifth in the line when the shutter came down. Lunch time! Rather than go home and trudge to the KEB office later, I thought I’d utilise the 45 minutes to finish a couple of odd jobs. Then I plodded back to the KEB office. <br /><br />At 2.15 pm sharp, the counter opened. I waited and waited. Line movement had come to a standstill. I craned my neck to find out what had brought things to a halt. The man at the counter was desperately trying to get the computer to work. When an irate customer asked what the problem was, “Server down,” was the terse reply. <br /><br />Who ever said that technology saves time and energy? After what seemed an interminable wait (but was just 30 minutes), my turn arrived. As I was collecting my receipt, a notice caught my eye. ‘Bills can be paid at the post office also.’ That was the last straw. The post office is a stone’s throw from my house and there is hardly any crowd to speak of!</div>
<div>I don’t think I am Fortune’s favourite. Things never fall into my lap. It would be no exaggeration to say that I have to put two hundred per cent effort into whatever I do. Though it is good to know that what little I achieve , I owe entirely to my hard work, I would be less than human if I didn’t yearn for dame luck to smile on me at least once in a long while.<br /><br />Here is the most recent example of my travails. The KEB (Karnataka Electricity Board) meter reader gave me two copies of a form. He asked me to sign one and took it handing the other to me. In response to my query, he explained that I had to pay an additional deposit as we had exceeded our quota of power. I asked him how to go about it. He said that I had to pay the specified amount at the KEB office and obtain a receipt.<br /><br />I requested my daily help to pay it as she passes the post office to and from work. She said that the counter was closed by the time she reached it. I had the distinct feeling that she hadn’t gone there at all. “Self help,” I muttered, deciding to handle the job myself. The daily help was oddly reluctant to let me do so. <br /><br />“The counter closes at 1 pm. Your trip will be wasted,” she warned me. It was ten to one, so I shrugged off her objections and strode purposefully in the direction of the KEB office. It was only then I realised why my daily help had tried to fob me off. In big block letters was the sign: LUNCH BREAK 1.30 pm-2.15 pm.<br /><br />I joined the serpentine queue. It kept moving even if it wasn’t at a brisk pace. I inched my way to the counter. I was fifth in the line when the shutter came down. Lunch time! Rather than go home and trudge to the KEB office later, I thought I’d utilise the 45 minutes to finish a couple of odd jobs. Then I plodded back to the KEB office. <br /><br />At 2.15 pm sharp, the counter opened. I waited and waited. Line movement had come to a standstill. I craned my neck to find out what had brought things to a halt. The man at the counter was desperately trying to get the computer to work. When an irate customer asked what the problem was, “Server down,” was the terse reply. <br /><br />Who ever said that technology saves time and energy? After what seemed an interminable wait (but was just 30 minutes), my turn arrived. As I was collecting my receipt, a notice caught my eye. ‘Bills can be paid at the post office also.’ That was the last straw. The post office is a stone’s throw from my house and there is hardly any crowd to speak of!</div>
