Unrepentant line-jumpers know how
to make the cut
By Beth Teitell
Tuesday, September 23, 2003
Is it just me, or is
the frontsies situation getting out of hand?
No matter where you go these days, you'd better be able to make a good case about why you deserve to keep your spot in line or else be prepared to relinquish it to a more deserving person - who, admittedly, has arrived after you, but even so has the right to cut ahead.
Perhaps you have 34 items in your grocery cart, and the customer behind you has only 33. "Do you mind if I go first?" "Of course not, better I should wait seven minutes than you should wait six and a half."
Or maybe you've been waiting for hours in a stationary line at the Delta counter, when a late-arriving passenger appears at the ticket agent's side and bursts out with her query. "I'm sorry," the passenger tells you, "it's just that my flight is about to leave." "Go right ahead, of course your lack of planning should become my problem."
Or you're at the dentist's office, waiting to see the hygienist, and the patient with the appointment after yours arrives early. "Excuse me, but I have less plaque than you. May I squeeze in?"
Sadly, that last example has never happened to me, but the following did:
I was on line in the ladies room at the Lowes Boston Common theater the other night, wishing I was farther toward the front but - like an idiot - accepting my lot in life, when a young woman burst in.
"Does anyone feel bad that I'm in the middle of a movie?" she asked, doing that little shrug thing. "Could I just pop in?"
Could she? Hmm. I'm generally a first-come-first-served person, so my gut feeling was no. But, not in the mood for a confrontation, I kept quiet and averted my glance, like a juror who's voted to convict and can't face the defendant.
While my head was bowed, I thought about the issue of cutting, and I realized that while I didn't think the aspiring budger had the right to go first - for all I know, she was in the middle of "Freddy Vs. Jason" and I certainly didn't want to enable that - maybe the order was all mixed up, from a merit point of view, that is.
Maybe the two older women in front of me should be allowed to go ahead of the bombshell who was first. Actuarially speaking, those two had less time left to see movies thanshe did. Or maybe I should be the one to "pop in." Due to the early-rising habits of two young children who happen to live in my apartment, I hadn't seen a first-run film in months, and was out that night only because I was celebrating my birthday. It could be argued that my right to get to Armani for dinner superseded the movie girl's right to see Freddy slash Jason.
Meanwhile, her plea hung in the chilly bathroom air until finally the bombshell spoke. "OK," she said, gesturing toward the stalls.
And before anyone else could object - "But they're not just your frontsies to give, we're all affected" - a stall door opened and the entitled one popped in.
"I'll be fast, I promise," she said, smiling.
I smiled back, and hoped her stall was out of toilet paper.
