The Auto Pool Negotiation

On Friday evening, Sahana and Ritesh finished a workshop in central Bengaluru and decided to share an auto. This sounded economical, friendly, and sensible until the proposed route was invited into the conversation.

“Same side?” Sahana asked.

“Almost,” Ritesh said.

They were colleagues. They had spent the day using the words aligned, connected, and close together. By six, these terms had begun operating without adequate supervision.

Outside the venue, they approached an auto waiting in an appropriate pickup area. The driver, Prakash, asked where they wanted to go.

“Koramangala,” said Sahana.

“Whitefield,” said Ritesh at the same time.

Prakash looked at one, then the other. The silence was brief but educational.

“Two places,” he said.

“Yes, but almost the same direction,” Ritesh replied.

Sahana turned towards him. “From where?”

He opened a map on his phone. From a sufficiently distant view, their homes did indeed belong to one city. Unfortunately, the auto would need to operate at street level.

Prakash waited while they examined the route from the pavement, clear of the road and other passengers. He did not begin a trip and leave them to discover the disagreement later. This was already more operational clarity than their workshop had achieved all afternoon.

Ritesh suggested dropping Sahana first. Sahana checked what this would mean for the onward journey and frowned. She did not want to make him take a long detour merely because they had declared themselves geographically compatible.

They considered reversing the order. The map responded with an arrangement that helped neither person feel optimistic.

Prakash folded his arms comfortably. “Both of you work with planning?”

Sahana laughed. “Unfortunately.”

Ritesh zoomed in further, as if additional detail might cause the neighbourhoods to reconsider their positions. It did not.

A third colleague, Dev, emerged from the venue carrying a rolled-up workshop poster. He asked what was happening. Sahana explained. Dev said he was also going towards Koramangala and could share with her if the driver agreed on the route and fare.

For the first time, the carpool contained a plausible pair of destinations.

Ritesh looked betrayed by geography. “So I’m the problem?”

“Only on this map,” Sahana said kindly.

Prakash reviewed the two nearby drop-offs, agreed to the arrangement, and quoted the fare clearly. Sahana and Dev accepted. They made sure Ritesh had a separate transport plan before boarding. Nobody needed to turn one imperfect idea into a universal group activity.

Ritesh booked his own ride and waited in the designated area. Dev put the poster where it would not obstruct anyone, and both passengers settled into the auto properly. Prakash pulled away.

Inside, Sahana messaged Ritesh: SORRY OUR SYNERGY WAS SO SPATIALLY LIMITED.

He replied: PLEASE DO NOT USE WORKSHOP WORDS DURING PERSONAL SUFFERING.

Prakash asked whether everything had been resolved. She said yes. He nodded. “Good. Correct destination first. Friendship can continue afterwards.”

Dev asked how they should divide the agreed fare. Sahana suggested the simplest fair arrangement for their two actual stops. They settled it before either person opened a spreadsheet. Prakash overheard and said he appreciated the improvement in planning since the conversation began.

At home, Sahana found a new message in the workshop group. Ritesh had posted a photograph of the map, with their two neighbourhoods marked and the caption ALMOST.

The facilitator replied with a laughing emoji and said it was a good lesson in shared assumptions. Nobody wanted another workshop about it, so the group went quiet immediately.

On Monday, Ritesh asked Sahana whether she wanted to share lunch.

“Same place?” she asked.

He pointed at the cafeteria table.

She checked both ends carefully.

“This one works.”

Read when you’re a passenger or safely off the road. Never while driving.