From where I was standing it looked like the Sabji wallah’s one eye was examining the note and the other was locked on me. This had happened more than once in the last week. It was only now while I was paying the 80 rupee vegetable bill with a 500 rupee note did I realize that he he wasn’t inspecting the note. He was inspecting my reaction to his inspecting the note.
Last week the local ATM decided that since the economy is heading down the drain it would only spew out 500 rupee notes, and that the humble hundred rupee note was beneath its dignity. In Patna, where the use of a credit card is like a minor road accident in that everyone drops whatever they are doing for a spot of drama and ‘edutainment’, cash is clearly king. However this respect is only given to those who dole out appropriately sized bills, and and not if you attempt to intimidate the shop keeper with high value currency notes that, in his opinion, have a bloody good chance of being fake.
It’s likely that he may have read some public service advert about identifying fake notes. It’s more likely that he heard a story from his fellow shopkeepers about how Pakistan is flooding the Indian markets with fake 500 and 1000 rupees notes that have the Indian flag missing on them, that have signatures of Osama Bin Laden in place of the RBI governor, or that if you look closely at Gandhiji’s picture you’ll see a FCUK label on the side of his specs.
His knowledge about fake currencies may not be great, but what he does know is how to read his customer. So once you hand him your 500 rupee bill, he’ll let you know that he doubts you, and especially your money. He’ll face you, hold up the bill in front of your face, attempt to examine the note, but really keep his eyes on you for any signs that most polygraphs would fail to pick up. He will hold it like that for what seems like a long time (but is really just about 2 seconds) and then when he sees that you haven’t cracked under the pressure and made a run for it, and that you are instead quite insulted by this behaviour, he will give you your change and wish you a good day.
Last week the local ATM decided that since the economy is heading down the drain it would only spew out 500 rupee notes, and that the humble hundred rupee note was beneath its dignity. In Patna, where the use of a credit card is like a minor road accident in that everyone drops whatever they are doing for a spot of drama and ‘edutainment’, cash is clearly king. However this respect is only given to those who dole out appropriately sized bills, and and not if you attempt to intimidate the shop keeper with high value currency notes that, in his opinion, have a bloody good chance of being fake.
It’s likely that he may have read some public service advert about identifying fake notes. It’s more likely that he heard a story from his fellow shopkeepers about how Pakistan is flooding the Indian markets with fake 500 and 1000 rupees notes that have the Indian flag missing on them, that have signatures of Osama Bin Laden in place of the RBI governor, or that if you look closely at Gandhiji’s picture you’ll see a FCUK label on the side of his specs.
His knowledge about fake currencies may not be great, but what he does know is how to read his customer. So once you hand him your 500 rupee bill, he’ll let you know that he doubts you, and especially your money. He’ll face you, hold up the bill in front of your face, attempt to examine the note, but really keep his eyes on you for any signs that most polygraphs would fail to pick up. He will hold it like that for what seems like a long time (but is really just about 2 seconds) and then when he sees that you haven’t cracked under the pressure and made a run for it, and that you are instead quite insulted by this behaviour, he will give you your change and wish you a good day.
