The Club

Something that I did not expect to do when we moved here was to join an exclusive club. I had heard about the lingering vestiges of British colonialism here in Chennai, like the Madras Club, where elite gather to sip imported whisky and scoff at the imperfections of Indian life, and wanted nothing to do with it. Call me an ex-pat snob, but it has never been my interest to seek out fellow Americans when living abroad, although I would be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy those few times when I have commiserated with fellow Yanks, particularly for the tips on places to eat and shop. But the kind of scene that I imagined at an elite club, in a place like India, was not something that I wanted any part of. The punctuated inequality, the attitudes, the arrogance—for someone who grew up in a southern California community poisoned by the exclusivity of ‘gated community norms’, this was something that I have been glad to forget. That was, until we moved to our place outside of the city and discovered that there was a private club within walking distance from our home—and it had a swimming pool. I guess, there’s something about a clean body of water in this blazing climate with a toddler that shifts the mindset just a bit.

The number of outdoor activities to do with a toddler in Chennai is not large. For reasons ranging from too hot to too unsafe to too many stray dogs, it is rare when you can find something that you can enjoy, and count on. When I found the Sindur Sea Club, and that they had an outdoor playground in addition to the pool, well, it made a lot of sense to join. The fact that it was right on the beach (although no beach access due to an adjacent fisherman encampment) and largely unpretentious, made it a surprisingly easy decision, especially once Kaia got a look at the property—open with patches of grass and lots of little elephant statues to ride on and play with.

While the club is open from 8am-11pm, most of the members come in the evening time. They show English, Tamil and Hindi movies on the weekends and lots of folks come for the open-air showings and enjoy dinner at the same time. Kaia and I, however, visit in the late morning, when there is nobody, except for the Sindur staff, whom we have come to know very well. There is Satish Kumar (like our old cat!), the General Manager of the club who grew up in Kenya, Shanmugam, the pool maintenance man, who keeps a great pool, Dinesh, the bar/game room person, with the 4 inch pinky fingernail, Padham (at left with Kaia), the young Nepali, Silvi, the cleaning woman with the distinct “Kaiiiiyyyaaa”, and on and on. Because, when we visit, we are generally the only guests there, it has become a very nice place to come back to each time.

Because we visit there 1-2 times a week, I have gotten to know a lot about people and, particularly, the work culture at the Club. What people have shared with me has been very thought-provoking. Here in Chennai, people are very open and informed about salary issues—what they make, what others make, etc. I was really surprised at how everyone knows (very accurately) what everyone else is making in the Club, something that is considered a taboo subject, or the realm of whispers and speculation, in most places I’ve worked. People were quick to tell me that the General Manager made 10,000 rupees a month ($230/mo appx) or that the Pool cleaner made 2,500 ($58/mo) for their full-time (50-100 hours per week) efforts. Below is a sampling of what they told me their monthly salaries were:

General Manager (10,000 rupees/$230)
Assistant Manager (6,000/$140)
Bar/Game room supervisor (3,500/$81)
Waiters (2,500/$58)
Poolman (2,500/$58)
Cleaning people (2,000/$46)

If you consider that, on a given day, there are about 3 supervisors working (restaurant, bar/game room, exercise room), 4-6 waiters, and 6-10 cleaning folks, that would make for a total monthly expenditure of around $1,400. That’s 22 people, full-time. And you wonder why companies—not to mention large corporations--come to places like India to set up their shops? I will not broach the question of exploitation here, but just say that these are considered to be low salaries for this kind of work here. Likely, many of these folks should be getting 50-100% more than they are earning at Sindur, and true to this point, there seems to be high employee turnover. But more than focus on the issue of comparing actual dollar amounts to, say, an American salary, consider them in the context of a living wage. Yes, the General Manager’s salary is terribly low—and should be about three times the amount given how much he works, but even at that ($690/month) it would seem low by American standards. Yet if you look at the cost of living for this person and his family, which according to him is about 8,000 rupees a month—and that covers private school for his children, rent, all food, health care, and even some savings—then the picture becomes a bit more clear. At 10,000 rupees a month (put aside for the moment that he’s working hellish hours and is away from his family for too long) he can save 20% of his income and be the sole worker in his family. For as far as our salary here takes us given the cost of living, in the US (where my wife would be paid the same amount for the same work), we can hardly afford to cover all of our expenses on her salary—forget the idea of putting away any money. It is a very interesting contrast—here with the salary, we live without financial care and in the US, with the same amount, as a family of three we are a precariously close to being a part of the working poor. Simultaneously we are experiencing the life of excess as a hyper-elite and contemplating the depressing future of working hard just to stay afloat. Something is wrong here.

Why I Love this Time: “See ironing man”?