It’s called the ‘New Delhi Shuffle’, conclusion

In the prior three posts of this mini-series, I recounted a highly stylized version of an event that happened to Jig, Pat and I as we set out shopping in Delhi.  In reality, the actual rug buying/returning event that took place is much less interesting to me than the personal lessons I learned from the experience.

A fool and his money are soon parted

‘A fool and his money are soon parted’ is a phrase that’s so often repeated that the words themselves have almost become meaningless.  Reading stories about Bernie Madoff’s Ponzi scheme, or Enron a little further back, I know I’ve become fairly blasé when reading about people who put their blind faith into things they don’t understand and consequently lose their money.  Fraud is one of the worst possibilities of true free market capitalism; there are rules and standards set in place by the government to instill some level of confidence in transactions, but only if you assume that the other party is acting in good faith.  That’s a big assumption, but one we make (successfully) several times per day.

With this daily level of “success” in good faith transactions, it’s very easy to become complacent in verifying that this assumption still holds.  In the U.S. and many other Western nations, information is so readily available on any good or service that we tend to assume that the market (or the legal system) is efficiently minimizing the chance that a business is using asymmetric information to the detriment of the consumer.  For example, I’ve got a bar-code reader on my iPhone that tells me the best price of a good anywhere across the Internet.  If the store I’m in doesn’t have the best price, they’ve got a chance to match it or I’ll purchase the good somewhere else.

But regardless if the store matches the price or not, I can safely assume that whatever is said to be in the box is actually in the box.  The store is competing on price, not on whether they can convince you that they can substitute Y good in place and still tell you that they sold you X.  The same thing goes for restaurants, home repair technicians, mail-order catalog sites…you can find out information on the quality of nearly any good or service, and because the seller knows this information is readily available, has motivation to correct the problem before you get there (lest they want to go out of business).

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It’s called the ‘New Delhi Shuffle’, part 3

There’s something quite discomforting about sitting in a shop, and watching a bunch of men speaking in a different language than you while holding sharp objects in their hands.  Especially when they are attacking the packaging of an expensive purchase, poking and slicing with scissors and knives like they needed to stab the scam out of the package!  And yet, there we were, Pat and I, just watching as this group of 3-4 gentleman were getting into this endeavor with the zeal of children opening Christmas presents.

Salesman:  Oh, look at this.  This is rayon, I can see through the packaging, and they are not done opening it yet.  You must return this immediately.  What is the address where you bought this, what is the phone number?

Excellent question.  The rickshaw driver took us to this store, and now we’re starting to wonder if he was also in on the scam.  Asking the rickshaw driver for the address is probably the wrong move, as we don’t want him to know that WE know something’s up if he is in on it.  Looking at the bill of sale for the rug, it was amazingly devoid of the address information, but did have a telephone number.  Armed with this information, Pat and I were finally able to leave the store and have the front desk find the address for us.  But the question in my mind was: can we actually roll up into this shop as a bunch of pissed off Americans and demand the money back?

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It’s called the ‘New Delhi Shuffle’, part 2

Each residency, there has been a main theme/memory that I take back with me, whether it be a specific event or an overall behavior.  In London, our first culture dash showed that even though England and the U.S. aren’t too far apart culture-wise, wandering around different countries armed with video cameras and asking probing questions is not a welcomed behavior!  Once I arrived in Dubai, I was a bit more judicious in my filming and observing in general, because you could feel the tension in the air between Western culture and Islamic societal norms (even if they were somewhat relaxed in Dubai).  So London had an event, Dubai was a feeling, India has to be…a behavior.

I’m am absolutely dumbfounded by the stark cultural contrast between Indian’s who are extremely deferential (mainly, hotel staff and other service providers), Indian’s who are extremely aggressive (the sellers from the bazaar come to mind, and unfortunately, beggars), educated Indians (the business people and all of my classmates), and the Indian’s who are absolutely vocal about telling you your business!  Some of these, of course, overlap :)


“Where did you buy this rug?  Where?  What store?  You…(snicker)…I hope you didn’t buy this where I thought you did…”

With this bit of heckling, I figured my learning about Delhi was complete.  Jig, Pat, and I returned back to the hotel around 6:00 p.m., to drop off our purchases and get cleaned up for dinner.  But as I passed through the metal detectors, I realize that this gentleman was determined to follow us around the hotel, telling Pat how big of a mistake he had made.

“Look, you come up to my shop here in the hotel, not to buy, and we’ll talk about the history of handmade rugs.  Just come up and take a look, you’ll enjoy.  You come here, just up ahead.”

Next thing we knew, Pat and I are sitting in ANOTHER rug shop, with another “friendly” Indian pulling out all his wares to show us.

3′x5′, 4′x6′, 6′x10′….what size are you interested in?  100% silk carpets, right?  I’ve got silk, I’ve got wool, blends, colors, everything right here.

Pat and I just looked at each other, stifling our laughter, just wondering who exactly he was talking too.  Pat had his purchase in hand; I already owed Jig several thousand rupees because I didn’t bring my wallet to the prior shopping trip (especially my credit cards).  I was hungry, but we were in the hotel, so no need to be rude lest we run into this guy again somewhere else.  Besides, residencies are pretty easy, who needs a nap?

The rug salesman proceeded to use a needle to take a single knot out of an all silk rug, then light it on fire.  When burnt, silk threads smell like ‘chicken feathers burning’, which I had to take the salesman’s word for as I’ve never burnt chicken feathers.  Next, the same test was performed, except this time with a rayon carpet.  The smell of rayon burning smells like chemicals burning, very distinct, and with this juxtaposition it was clear that this was an excellent way to test carpet composition!

Now that we knew how to determine what rugs were made from, the salesman moved on to knot count.  In general, the quality of a rug is determined by the number of knots per square inch.  18×18 is generally the lower end of the spectrum, and is well suited to flooring rugs due to the thicker thread needed to create the proper rug density.  At the other end of the spectrum, 25×25 has a significantly different feel, as the threads are much finer, and thus has a richer feel on the hand.  A rug of this quality is for lighter traffic areas, or even wall hanging.

Two lessons down, and I am in fact enjoying myself.  At this point, I’ve learned how to determine the composition of a rug, the difference in the number of knots (including, how to count them), and in general seen a lot of impressive (and expensive!) handmade rugs.  At this point though, it had been too long since the last heckle, and the salesman was getting antsy:

Salesman: So, how much did you pay for your rug? Silk?  What knot count?

Pat:  $x.  Silk, 25×25.

Salesman (laughing): Really?  If that’s true, and you bought that quality, I’ll give you your money back plus $300. Let me open up your rug package and take a look at it.  It’s ok, I’ll re-package it for you, no problem.

Awkward.  I can’t speak for Pat, but with these words, I was starting to think that there was a hard sell coming.  Why would Pat want to sell the rug he spent hours searching for, just to make a little extra money?  Money is nice, but not when you want to take home a rug!  I was starting to think we would never be getting out of this shop (remember, in the hotel), when the salesman dropped the bomb:

I guarantee that the rug you have is not what you think it is.  For the price you paid, it cannot be.

Ugh.  The visions of butter chicken and naan dancing in my head quickly evaporated.  We’re never getting out of this shop.