Old People and Corner Shops
After extensive testing and field research, I have come to the conclusion that no matter what time you enter a corner shop, and no matter how empty the shop appears, an old person will make it to the counter before you.
The old person will expect you to give way if they meet you at the counter – peering up at you in a wasp chewing expression through their bottle bottom glasses.
They will then greet the equally old person behind the counter – who they know on first name terms – and begin buying things. Lots of things.
Lottery tickets. Tobacco. Spirits. Stamps. They will then realise they have forgotten something and wander off down the shop to find it – all the while talking to themselves. Only when money is requested will they begin the process of retrieving money from their purse – which will be safeguarded in a gargantuan handbag, within an awful tartan trolley that may as well have razor blades fitted to the axles.
They will pay exact change, which will be counted out within an inch of their nose because their inch thick glasses are obviously the wrong prescription.
Eventually (after heading a parade length queue that now stretches the entire length of the shop), they will shuffle off, and the store owner will apologise to you for your now lengthy wait.
You will then pay for everything inside 30 seconds, and leave the shop – and pass the person you just waited an age for within 20 yards of exiting the shop.