I was ruminating the other day, standing in line at PostShop, that whichever queue I stand in, it's always the other queue that moves the fastest. I speak to loads of people and they say the same thing happens to them. Is there a bunch of us folk who are forever destined to Get It Wrong? Did the Angel of Good-Fortune tick my name off her list as baby-me, all bundled up and about to be handed over to the stork, was sent off to live my life?
At the supermarket yesterday, I decided to try out my theory. I stood examining the queues at the various checkout counters. Mmmm, which was the shortest? Which customer in which queue had the least items? And which small-purchase customer did I think would ask the operator for cigarettes requiring the supervisor to be called, along with the all-precious key to the locked cabinet. All of this kerfuffle would add minutes to any queue-time. (Oops, am I cigarette-profiling? Sorry.)
In the end, I decided to go with the new-fangled check-it-out-yourself option.
Alas, it took me much longer doing this than if I'd queued up waiting for an operator. It was probably my own fault. Silly me, I had bought a camisole at Farmers just prior to my Countdown Supermarket visit and I had plonked the bagged camisole into my supermarket basket for ease of carrying as I rambled the aisles. The self-check-out machine automatically registered the camisole's weight as I checked in and then got in a real filthy mood when I didn't run it across the bar-scanner.
By the time, the supervisor had slowly rolled up and sorted out the problem, all the operator-checkout queues had become devoid of customers, and-I-should-have-gone-that-way-to-begin-with. Sigh.
I was wandering around the Wellington Botanical Gardens earlier in the year and found this cute duck family hanging around the small fountain in the rose garden. I go so gooey over puppies, kittens, ducklings, chicks....