Queue

Standing in a queue, waiting. At the grocery store, at the airport, tickets and pop corn, for my transaction to go through. Wasting time. Such a copious waste of time. People stand in the wrong queue, they just want to ask just one more question, they just picked the single one item in the store with the bar code wrinkled or half torn off. And then there is the argument about what’s on sale, but it was, for the life of God it was written on there, it’s three for two, no, it’s the cheapest, no, you cannot choose which one, no it doesn’t apply to the ones you have selected. And yes, you may leave them here, no, neither of us have heard of the word sorry, no, we do not care about the rest of them standing in the queue. Oh, yes, add the ignorance element and boredom quickly turns into hatred. All you really need is say, at least one female, nose sniffer and make-up adjuster behind that simply magical counter. Make the story about yesterday’s far from perfect date just a tad bit longer, let them wait, let them have all the details, they have time, you are on a break, it’s your right as a human being to have a break, after all, you work so hard, until the supervisor comes, you are at the top of the world, do you think she knew her shirt was totally see-through, what some men want, what some women want, just a sip more of my coffee, oh, it’s rubbish, why didn’t I take more milk, there wasn’t any more skimmed, why is that bloke staring at my tits, I hate it when they do that, hello, I have a face too, I am a human being, you know. Yes, I do work here, no, I haven’t noticed the frighteningly long queue I am supposed to be dealing with, no, I have no brain and don’t care either, when it hits 7 pm, love, I’m oughta here. Hey, mister, you can’t just leave you basket here, it’s full, it’s not my job to..., oh, sure, just, walk out. Oh well, next customer, over here, over here, nextplease. NEXTPLEASE, yes, YOU!