Why I Like to be in Line

We spend a lot of time in line. Most stare blankly at the back of the other person's head. After all, this is the proper way to queue isn't it? I am not British, so I am far from an expert in the art of the queue. I pay attention to those in front of me, as they provide those wonderful quirky moments that make my existence richer.

That being said, I got to be in line recently. Let's read on!

This weekend, I had the opportunity to spend money on a new cell phone. I suppose I didn't need a new "handy" but I was tired of carrying my old cell phone around.




Time to upgrade my cellular telephony equipment.



I chose my phone and was ready to pay. Fortunately for me, a young lady was in front of me in line. From my eavesdropping, I could tell she really knew her wireless terminology. It sounded as if she was changing her plan, and upgrading her phone (all at the SAME TIME.) I was amazed at her knowledge of the different wireless plans. The sales assistant behind the counter was enthusiastically telling her all the features of her new phone, and she was not only picking up the details of her new phone, she was asking really techinical questions (129G networks and CDMA compatible something-or-other.) The back and forth with them was seemless, perfect. Two experts "talking shop." I could actually see the intellectual, energetic bond these two were forming. The conversation was a delight to watch and listen to. I was really impressed.

This was to be short lived.


As the sales person was removing one of her new accesories (a headset maybe?) from the impossible-to-open hard plastic blister packs, she gasped and remarked with genuine curiosity. The same "how'd you do that" demeanor a young child admires a magician.


"What did you just use to get that open so quickly?" she exclaimed.


"Um, a box cutter." said the sales person, sarcastically. The question, a intellectual sucker-punch.


"Wow! That is the coolest thing I have ever seen! I need to get me one of those."

"Um, yeah." replied the person behind the counter. His tone not even in the same post code as "polite."


The bond of that so quickly formed was no more. Forever severed. The magic was gone. The rest of the transaction was ackward. She tried to pull it back, stammering and asking questions about the phone she already asked and knew the answers to. It was truly painful to watch.

The transaction concluded with a clumsy, "have a nice day." and a "thank you." Even as she left she tried, the "Oh, one more thing..." line, just to try to make herself not look so foolish. The sales associate pretended she didn't exist and continued to assist me with my wireless needs.

Damn you, cutter of blister packs, destroyer of bonds...