Queues

I hate queues. Not for the vast number of people ahead of me, but for that one horrible woman standing right behind me!

Why is it that people cannot respect their space? Forget cutting into my space, but how can you compromise on your own little space? How comfortable is it to have your bulging belly bump into my behind? Or risk that 99.9 per cent chance of my hair blowing into your face? And why won’t you realise you bumped into someone when you do? Sheesh!!

The other day, I’d just about finished last minute Christmas shopping and was standing in queue to pay the bill when this girl and her pal come stand behind me. Whoa! I could feel her hot breath on my neck. I turn around meaningfuly, but madam just glances in my direction and is busy chatting to her pal. Then her elbow jabs me in the spine and I turn around again. Madam is still busy and happily unaware of the discomfort she is causing. A few more breaths down my neck and one more jab of the elbow and I lose it. I tell her to please move back a little. She looks me as though I’m some kinda moron for not wanting her so close to me. Ugh!!

Then the last day I was standing in queue at a (wedding) buffet when this ghastly woman kept bumping into me in her hurry to get at the food. Not once, not twice, but sigh… oh so irritatingly many times!

I gave her a ‘look’ (and my looks are quite famous for their meanness)—in vain. I half turned around and growled (literally)—dame didn’t even notice. And as if all this wasn’t enough to rattle anyone, the ‘lady’, and her mom standing behind her, try to push their way into my place when I moved aside to let someone cross the queue. Aaarrgghhh!!!

Country Bumpkins.