Snobs R Us
I was chatting with Mini-Me yesterday when she mentioned that she’s a professional snob.
She didn’t mean, like I assumed she did, that she charges people money to mock them for their low socio-economic class. She simply meant that she wouldn’t be able to date someone from certain professions. Again, these do not include the obvious choices: pimps, gigolos, India TV reporters and advertising account planners. No, she was referring to call centre people. You know, the guys who like to call themselves ‘Customer Care Executives’ when they secretly mean Irritating Incompetent Nincompoop With The IQ Of An Anesthetized Toad.
“But what if he’s cute?” I asked, “What if he’s great to talk to and you get along amazingly well?” She thought for about one-eight of a second before saying no.
I can’t point fingers at her, I’m a name snob. I’d never be able to find someone with a prosaic name attractive. This makes no sense to some of my friends who think someone called Dayashankar can be a really cool guy. It all depends on the person, they think. If the person is cool, they make their name cool.
I disagree. Based on the simple deductive logic that I’ve never come across anyone cool called Kanhaiyya, Bankebihari, Banwarilal, Sitaram, Dattatray or for that matter, Ravi. And on the basis of the fact that I have yet to meet a Chunky Pandey fan.
So yeah, they may be India’s answer to Brad Pitt with the IQ of Stephen Hawking, the wit of Conan O’Brien and the sex appeal of that guy who played Cupid in Xena the Warrior Princess, but for me it all goes down the toilet if they’re called Shyamsunder.*
And don’t you go tut-tutting me either. You’re just as bad. It may not be professions or names, but deep down inside, you’re a snob just like the rest of us. Maybe you refuse to associate with Justin Timberlake fans. Perhaps you look the other way when encountered with people who haven’t heard of Sabyasachi. Or maybe you just snicker quietly when people mispronounce ‘opportunity’.
Make no mistake, my friend, you’re a snob. Welcome to the club.
* Rook, you go right now and thank your folks for not naming you ‘Bunty’.