Man I hate it when I’m looking for a big piece of coloured card for one of Isaac’s projects, and I dash into the newsagent that merged with the post office, look around, and they don’t have any. Then further down the road I dash into the post office that merged with the newsagent, and they have plenty, $1 a pop, I’ll take two thanks, and oh damn there’s only one queue, and one guy serving.

I’m in a hurry but I need these now, so I’ll queue. Behind the couple who are paying numerous bills (WE HAVE B-PAY AND THE FREAKING INTERNET FOR THAT, YOU KNOW) and querying why the guy didn’t rip off the bottom bit off the bills (No, he says, we don’t rip off the bottom bits) and buying a magazine (No wait, is it this magazine? Or did I already buy this issue? Hold on now, I’m not sure) and buying stamps (how many do we need? Okay here’s some for overseas. Cards only. Oh, we have to write “Card only” to get the cheap rate? Okay. Now local ones, how many? 1… 2… 3… 4… JUST BUY A FREAKING 10 PACK!!!) and fumbling with their change (WHY DIDN’T I BRING $2 CHANGE, THEN I COULD LOB IT OVER THE COUNTER AND RUN FOR IT) and multiple receipts and making small-talk with the guy behind the counter (I’M ALL FOR A CONVIVIAL RETAIL ATMOSPHERE, BUT I’M IN A HURRY AND THE QUEUE BEHIND ME’S GETTING LONGER) and querying again why the guy didn’t rip the bottom bit off the bill.

Ten minutes queuing, then all of ten seconds for my transaction. And I beat them out the door, too.

Bet they’re the same people who walk slowly down the middle of the pavement, blocking both sides.