While I’m about it. A big queue at the check-out. I mean
big. People with their trolleys piled as if they’re expecting the apocalypse. Ok, that’s fine. Live and let live, and all that.
But I will never understand why people wait till they’ve got past the check-out, wait till everything’s gone through the bar code check, wait till the guy/girl on the till tells them what they owe,
and then — and only then — start fiddling around with their wallets/purses looking for their card (an operation which seems to pose a major muscle motor and cognitive challenge to the aged among us). Or, worse still, start fiddling around looking for change, as nonplussed as if they were dealing with the currency of Ulan Bator. When I get level with the cashier, and I’m the penultimate person, I get the card out of the wallet. Or if I know approximately what I owe, I get the right (approximately) cash out.
It’s ok when one or two do it. It’s when six in a row do it that I get, let us say, impatient. Incipient trolley rage.
I suppose ten years up the road, if I’m still here, I’ll be one of those people…