Off The Cuff: Queueing up for the vagaries of life

Standing one behind the other, in endless desperation, inane thoughts coming to mind. How many minutes will it take to get to the counter? Will that foot which has lost all feeling ever wake up again? Looking at the watch for the umpteenth time. Looking at it again. Staring around the room with a blank tired expression. Others stare back with similar expressions. Breathing in a cocktail of perfumes that would leave the best of noses in a state of confusion. And let's not even mention the bad odours.

Queues are depressing. They eat away at sanity. We humans spend a lot of time waiting. And the logical offshoot of waiting in decency is a queue. Only thing is that it is not decent or logical. It is torture.

Strangers start talking to one another, just due to the fact that they are standing in front of or behind you. And there always happens to be a know-it-all somewhere among that sea of faces. He or she will offer tips on how long it will take – which is always wrong. Looks as though the person is a queue specialist, very adept in the art of queuing. Makes one wonder why know-it-all is still hanging around. By now know-it-all should have got it down to a fine art and been out of the dreary tragedy in a jiffy. But then when it rains it pours and the monologue continues to beat upon unwilling eardrums.

And doesn't everyone hate the line busters who seem to crop up all over the place? They increase exponentially as the queue gets longer. There are the slinkers who seem to glide into a queue like mist on a cold morning. It's only when one is touched by them one realises one has not seen them before. It's a cold slimy feeling and definitely not nice. And there are those who power their way in, talking loudly and seemingly important. Then there is an uproar of indignation. Tempers fray, blood pressures rise, teeth gnashed, fists clenched. Well, this is getting exciting now, so deep breaths, calm thoughts, think of green fields and flowers!

Ever noticed those who comprise the queue? Plodders – with their heads bowed just moving along. Pushers – poking their papers or files or shopping carts into the person in front of them hoping that will make the queue move faster! Con artists – point out something interesting and while the victim stares, there goes his or her place.

The actual queue itself is quite interesting. Some are ramrod straight (normally found in army barracks and supermarket checkouts which have guardrails on the sides). Others are twisty and double back and then twist again so no one ever figures out what is actually happening. Then there are those that have big gaps in them, especially at schools for a test when some students are too overwhelmed by the situation and decide to make a quick getaway and the person behind is unwilling to move ahead in the forlorn hope that the vanished bloke will return. And then there is a object in place of a person queue – comprising shoes, bags, sweaters and other such inanimate objects.

Happy thoughts cross the mind as one makes it to the front, a few seconds more and the agony will end. Even the worry lines that have carved themselves out on the forehead during that torturously long saga begin to smooth themselves out. Sorry, time's up, counter is closed. All said and done, it's never fun. Anyone heading to the supermarket today?