31 March
Today I received an email from my dad. He'd been trying to renew his car insurance and had come against some Thai-style efficiency. I have copied his story below.
The car insurance was due. I went to Viriyah Company to pay it. Khun Sriratana had painted flowers on her fingernails this time. She said,
“Your car tax is due next week.”
I remembered last year. The Thai civil service is always the same. You go and you wait. Thais don’t mind waiting. I’ve known of Thais who missed a bus and just sat down and waited 24 hours for the next one. Last year I waited two and a half hours at the Department of Transport Licensing Office. I don’t mind waiting. It’s just that, usually, I would rather be waiting somewhere else.
So I said, “Ah….”
“We could do it for you.”
“Ah!”
“But there is a charge.”
“How much?”
“50 baht.”
This is 91 pence at today’s exchange rate. I know Thais who will spend 10,000 baht to change the shape of their noses in order “to improve the quality of their lives”. 91 pence seems a reasonable price to pay to improve the quality of two and a half hours.
“Okay”.
She checked her records.
“Your car is now 8 years old.”
“Right?”
“Before they’ll give you a license this time, the car has to be completely checked.”
I remembered seeing cars being checked last year. The checks were very thorough indeed. Mechanics and body. Not like UK MOTs. That’s why you don’t see many breakdowns in Thailand.
“We can do it for you.”
“How much?”
“150 baht (£2.50).”
“Yes please. I’ll have to get a taxi.”
“Why?”
“Well, you’ll need the car.”
“Why do we need your car?”
“To have it checked.”
She smiled. I know that smile. It means, you are a foreigner and I don’t understand what you’re talking about. I will sit here smiling until either you say something sensible or go away.
At this point foreigners sometimes start shouting with frustration. This produces a bigger smile, which can develop into a titter of laughter. In a government department this can spread (discreetly) around the large open-plan room in which they work. So, patiently I said,
“If I don’t leave you my car, you cannot check it.”
Western logic cannot go much further than this.
“Why do we need to check your car?”
(Western logic had not gone far enough).
“You don’t understand.”
I didn’t.
“You give us the money to have your car checked. We take your logbook to the Department of Transport. They give us the license.”
“But if I pay to have it checked, it should be checked.”
“Why?
It was Khun Sriratana’s turn not to understand.
"You want the new license. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, but the law says that an 8 year old car must be checked.”
“Yes, of course it does. For safety reasons.”
I sat there with the patient, uncomprehending look which, on a foreigner means, “your country is crazy (i.e. not like mine).”
“If you want your car to be checked, you must drive it to the Department of Transport yourself. They will check it and, if they find anything wrong, they will not give you a license. Safety is very important.”
“When should I come back for my log book?”
“I’ll phone you.”
Thoughtfully, I drove away.
“Your car tax is due next week.”
I remembered last year. The Thai civil service is always the same. You go and you wait. Thais don’t mind waiting. I’ve known of Thais who missed a bus and just sat down and waited 24 hours for the next one. Last year I waited two and a half hours at the Department of Transport Licensing Office. I don’t mind waiting. It’s just that, usually, I would rather be waiting somewhere else.
So I said, “Ah….”
“We could do it for you.”
“Ah!”
“But there is a charge.”
“How much?”
“50 baht.”
This is 91 pence at today’s exchange rate. I know Thais who will spend 10,000 baht to change the shape of their noses in order “to improve the quality of their lives”. 91 pence seems a reasonable price to pay to improve the quality of two and a half hours.
“Okay”.
She checked her records.
“Your car is now 8 years old.”
“Right?”
“Before they’ll give you a license this time, the car has to be completely checked.”
I remembered seeing cars being checked last year. The checks were very thorough indeed. Mechanics and body. Not like UK MOTs. That’s why you don’t see many breakdowns in Thailand.
“We can do it for you.”
“How much?”
“150 baht (£2.50).”
“Yes please. I’ll have to get a taxi.”
“Why?”
“Well, you’ll need the car.”
“Why do we need your car?”
“To have it checked.”
She smiled. I know that smile. It means, you are a foreigner and I don’t understand what you’re talking about. I will sit here smiling until either you say something sensible or go away.
At this point foreigners sometimes start shouting with frustration. This produces a bigger smile, which can develop into a titter of laughter. In a government department this can spread (discreetly) around the large open-plan room in which they work. So, patiently I said,
“If I don’t leave you my car, you cannot check it.”
Western logic cannot go much further than this.
“Why do we need to check your car?”
(Western logic had not gone far enough).
“You don’t understand.”
I didn’t.
“You give us the money to have your car checked. We take your logbook to the Department of Transport. They give us the license.”
“But if I pay to have it checked, it should be checked.”
“Why?
It was Khun Sriratana’s turn not to understand.
"You want the new license. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, but the law says that an 8 year old car must be checked.”
“Yes, of course it does. For safety reasons.”
I sat there with the patient, uncomprehending look which, on a foreigner means, “your country is crazy (i.e. not like mine).”
“If you want your car to be checked, you must drive it to the Department of Transport yourself. They will check it and, if they find anything wrong, they will not give you a license. Safety is very important.”
“When should I come back for my log book?”
“I’ll phone you.”
Thoughtfully, I drove away.
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