The Ten People You Meet While Waiting in Line

The bell rings overhead, signaling yet another person has joined the line. Sooner rather than later, this line was going to be long enough to wrap around the earth, twice. The person in the front of the line was still standing there patiently, saying their order for the third time to the seemingly incompetent sales clerk. The line has ultimately been caused by the woman’s order changing with every time she repeats it and the noise that is surrounding the counter from the building line. Although every line differs in place, time, and noise level, it still seems to contain the exact same type of people.

In every line, there’s that person who creates the queue with either a difficult order or the inability to communicate effectively. This person is also the most ignorant of the people in line because they are unaware of the line and distress that they are causing behind them. They are deaf to the “Hurry up!” being shouted behind them. Instead, the line is making it harder for them to concentrate on the right order because the noise level is consistently rising. The bell rings again.

In every line, there’s that person dressed in the suit or professional dress jabbering relentlessly away on their cell phone. Their voice rises above the rest and the unavoidable “Let me call you back when I get out of this line!” echoes throughout the store. Almost immediately after ending that call, the shrill ringing of a phone call screams throughout the building. Once again they are back on some business call that seems more important than waiting in line for whatever it is. The bell rings again.

In every line, there’s that mother with her screaming baby whose cries are so loud they drowned out the first person in line talking and the ringing of the cell phone. It’s suddenly apparent that the mother is oblivious to the crying bundle, and she is doing nothing to soothe the tears except rock back and forth. Where are the earplugs when they are necessary? The bell rings again.

In every line, there’s that person, accompanying the mother and her banshee baby, with multiple children between the ages two and five. For some unexplainable reason, they feel that playing games involving running serpentines around the feet of innocent bystanders is fun. The mothers instantly become engrossed in a surely riveting conversation remaining oblivious to the children knocking people off their balance and causing a commotion. The bell rings again.

In every line, there’s that person referred to as The Huffer. The person posted halfway through the line with their arms attached firmly in a crossed position to their chest. They don’t do much but mumble unintelligible words most likely about how long the line is and how long they first person is taking. This is obviously something they hate doing and their lives will never be the same again because they wasted five minutes in a line. The bell rings again.

In every line, there’s that group of teenagers that are almost worse than the toddlers. They enter the building and it seems like sound just reverberates from their skin and bounces, multiplying the sound tenfold. They accumulate in the queue and continue growing. At first there’s two and then, looking backwards at the group, there’s more than five. They erupt with laughter and more than ever the earplugs would be forever welcomed. The bell rings again.

In every line, there’s that group or single old person that can’t take the baby, the teenagers, the toddlers, and the length of the line. They are the ones that confront the mothers about how they haven’t raised their children to act appropriately in public places; eventually the mothers will find themselves abducted into one of those generic “Back in my day” stories. After they have finished telling the mothers how it is, they will move to shushing the teenagers. The bell rings again.

In every line, there’s that group of high-minded people, the line-jumpers and the line-leavers. These are the second most ignorant people in the room. They are the ones that leave the line and expect to return into their original spot in the queue. The others are the ones who just waltz into the shop and join the group in the front. Outraged, a roll of thunder is emitted from the queue. The skippers and leavers are banished quickly from their “place.” The bell rings again.

In every line, there’s that VIP that only has to walk into the room and everyone turns to begin completing their usual order. They don’t even have time to take a breath before it is finished and being exchanged over the counter with them and a twenty being flung in the direction of the cashier that is still struggling with the first woman. The bell rings again.

In every line, there’s you. If you don’t fall into one of the above categories, then congratulations, you’re the only sane person in that queue. You recognize that the mothers aren’t doing anything about their kids, that the teenagers are more than annoying, that the person who is ordering is a complete idiot, that the old people have a tolerance level of zero, that the huffing ahead of you isn’t going to fix anything, and that the people who think they are better than everyone else are just highly arrogant. Also, this proves that you shouldn’t be waiting in that line for God only knows how long and instead walking two steps, blocks, miles down the road to find the next store or check-out line. The bell rings again.

The queue continues to grow and it begins to seem impossible that the woman is still placing her order. When the clerk is finally handed money and the woman is given her purchase, there is a universal groan at how small the order was. In the end, standing in this unforgiving line will seem insignificant until the realization that it was insignificant occurs. Only then can one accept the fact that the only thing they got out of the line was the ability to observe the ten groups of people you meet in while waiting in line. The bell rings again.

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