Talk about the weather
I don't remember what it was that made me volunteer to hold the key to Sushim's apartment. He had been living away from the city for a while and listed his old digs for sale, but was reluctant to hand over the key to a broker since he was in fear that the broker might start using the place himself. In a moment of weakness, I volunteered to be the Key Guy, to trundle out over weekends and show the apartment to the prospective buyers and brokers that Sushim coordinated over phone and the internet.
It isn't all that taxing, really. I get to interact with some interesting people (and sometimes their brokers) and delve into their shelter-seeking psyches. Most ask me all kinds of personal questions that I find unrelated to their apartment-buying decision making process. Such as what I do, how I am related to Sushim (one broker asked me if I was his brother, and I confirmed) and where I live.
Last evening was the first time I ventured out to the apartment on a weekday, and an evening. Arriving before the tourists, I faced some initial dismay when I realized the electricity mains were turned off all this while, and confusion when I tried all possible combinations of switches and fuses to get them back on so the place would be lit. On Sushim's advice, I approached the neighbours and copied their switch settings... without success. While I was thus fiddling, the tourist started probing the neighbour about the flat and the society.
One concern that most buyers have is with the location of the apartment, on the top floor of a high-rise building. These usually have a tendency to heat up faster than the average, and nobody wants to buy into an oven. Having stayed over at Sushim's a few times in the good old days, I knew the builder had constructed it well, with both a cooler roof slab construction and a great cross-ventilation. However, I was hardly surprised when the prospect, currently residing in the next suburb, asked the neighbour, "So, how hot does it get here in the daytime?" Without batting an eyelid, the neighbour replied, "42 degrees C".
I gazed at the man, amazed. Here was someone after my own heart. He must have been an engineer - his answer was technically correct (that is indeed Pune's typical maximum temperature) and yet the tourist had no idea what to make of the information. Kinda like the manager in the hot air balloon.
Rather flustered, he turned his attention to the electricity problem, and we soon discovered that the mains were fine, it was the light that I was using to test that was fused. With the aid of other lights, he managed a satisfactory dekko of the apartment and all was well.
It isn't all that taxing, really. I get to interact with some interesting people (and sometimes their brokers) and delve into their shelter-seeking psyches. Most ask me all kinds of personal questions that I find unrelated to their apartment-buying decision making process. Such as what I do, how I am related to Sushim (one broker asked me if I was his brother, and I confirmed) and where I live.
Last evening was the first time I ventured out to the apartment on a weekday, and an evening. Arriving before the tourists, I faced some initial dismay when I realized the electricity mains were turned off all this while, and confusion when I tried all possible combinations of switches and fuses to get them back on so the place would be lit. On Sushim's advice, I approached the neighbours and copied their switch settings... without success. While I was thus fiddling, the tourist started probing the neighbour about the flat and the society.
One concern that most buyers have is with the location of the apartment, on the top floor of a high-rise building. These usually have a tendency to heat up faster than the average, and nobody wants to buy into an oven. Having stayed over at Sushim's a few times in the good old days, I knew the builder had constructed it well, with both a cooler roof slab construction and a great cross-ventilation. However, I was hardly surprised when the prospect, currently residing in the next suburb, asked the neighbour, "So, how hot does it get here in the daytime?" Without batting an eyelid, the neighbour replied, "42 degrees C".
I gazed at the man, amazed. Here was someone after my own heart. He must have been an engineer - his answer was technically correct (that is indeed Pune's typical maximum temperature) and yet the tourist had no idea what to make of the information. Kinda like the manager in the hot air balloon.
Rather flustered, he turned his attention to the electricity problem, and we soon discovered that the mains were fine, it was the light that I was using to test that was fused. With the aid of other lights, he managed a satisfactory dekko of the apartment and all was well.
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