The
Old Coot is out of line.
By
Merlin Lessler
I
was in a crowded deli the other day. It could have been a coffee house or a
fast food restaurant, they are all about the same when a crowd shows up. Some give
you a number or set up a rope barrier to guide you to the counter in an orderly
fashion; some don’t. I like it when they don’t; I sit off to the side, sipping
coffee and watching the show. I’m a student of the queue. Queue is a corporate
word for line. CEO’s think we don’t mind waiting our turn if it’s in a queue,
rather than a line. I love to watch people in line; it reveals so much about
them.
Lines
wouldn’t be a problem if the fictitious “Soup Nazi” from the Seinfeld sitcom
ran things. If you wanted soup from him, you conducted yourself by his rules:
money in your left hand, step to the counter in one swift motion, speak your
order clearly, quickly step sideways to the cashier, pay, keep your mouth shut,
pick up your soup and leave. He would never allow the undisciplined, sprawling,
disjointed lines that take place at delicatessens, fast food restaurants and other
places that often have customers backed up in a mass of humanity.
Some
people who join a queue seem to have a psychological disorder, like the guy who
keeps a four-foot distance between himself and the person in front of him. I
guess it’s a phobia about bumping into another person. I hate being behind these
guys. I’m afraid someone will come along and take the spot behind the person in
front of him. It happens a lot.
Fussy
people with complicated orders are fun to watch – “I’d like a small coffee but
put it in a “large” cup. I want it with two and 1/2 sugars, 1/2 sweet &
low, 3 squirts of milk (not half & half), a cup of ice on the side and
leave an inch between the coffee and the top of the cup. These people are painful
to be stuck behind, but fun to watch when you’re just observing, almost as much
fun as the people in Dunkin Donuts and other places who order in a zigzag
fashion, giving the clerk a workout: a jelly from the lower right shelf, two
steps over to a glazed on the upper left, three steps back for a plain in the
next section. On and on they go, putting the poor clerk through an aerobic
adventure and taking twice as long as they should. They do the same thing at a
deli counter.
The
worst customer to get stuck behind is the one who doesn’t know what he wants. He’s
waited in line facing a giant picture menu and has a panoramic view of the
display cases, yet when the clerk asks, “How can I help you?” he gets a blank
look on his face and replies, “I don’t know. What’s good?” The clerk starts
rattling off suggestions; each is discarded; I don’t like jelly, I can’t eat
chocolate, I have a bad tooth so I can’t chew a bagel. The game continues until
he finally makes a selection. The clerk quickly throws it in a bag, hoping to
get rid of him but it doesn’t work. Now, he changes his mind. “No, take this
back. Give me the breakfast sandwich, but put the cheese on the bottom, don’t
warm up the bagel, and make sure the egg is not too hot,” proving he knew what
he wanted all along.
The
list of queue performances is endless: customers on cell phones who have to
discuss their selection with a friend - parents with four brats who insist the
kids order for themselves but then veto their selections – absent minded
shoppers who have to run back to their car where they left their wallet, low
talkers, who order in a whisper and then get indignant when asked to repeat
their selection. Queue watching is a pleasant pastime. You don’t even have to
be an old coot to partake. All you have to do is pull up a chair or lean
against the wall and watch the show.
Comments!
Complaints! Send to – mlessler7@gmail.com
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