The Unspoken Rules of Standing in Line (And Why I Break Them All)

The Unspoken Rules of Standing in Line (And Why I Break Them All)

We’ve all been there. Standing in line, silently judging the person in front of us who seems to have missed the memo on personal space. Or feeling that phantom phone vibrate in our pocket, knowing that checking it is a one-way ticket to Line Jail.

The Case of the Phantom Phone Vibrate

My personal vendetta against the unspoken rules of lining up began at the DMV. Yes, I know, starting a story with “at the DMV” is like admitting defeat from the get-go. But hear me out. After an hour of watching the clock tick slower than my will to live, I felt that familiar phantom buzz. You know the one. It’s not even a real vibration, more like a figment of your phone-addicted imagination. But there I was, reaching for my pocket like a Pavlovian dog responding to the bell of boredom.

The gasps were almost audible. The elderly gentleman behind me cleared his throat loud enough to rival a foghorn. The woman ahead of me shot me a look that could curdle milk. I swear, you’d think I’d just cut the entire line and offered everyone a sarcastic “What are you gonna do about it?”

Personal Space Conundrum

Then there’s the unspoken rule of personal space. It’s like we’re all playing an elaborate game of “Don’t Touch the Lava,” except the lava is invisible and constantly shifting based on the person behind you. Too close, and you’re breathing down their neck. Too far, and you’re leaving enough room for a family of four to set up a picnic.

I’ll admit, I’m a close-talker by nature. Not in a creepy, invade-your-personal-bubble kind of way, but more like a “Hey, we’re all friends here, right?” kind of way. But in the line-standing universe, this makes me public enemy number one. People start shuffling their feet, coughing nervously, and shooting me “Are you going to rob me?” glances.

The Art of the Line Cut (Or Lack Thereof)

Let’s not even get started on the cardinal sin of line etiquette: cutting. This is where things get serious. Forget the subtle coughs and side-eye; this is full-on confrontation territory. I’m talking raised voices, pointed fingers, and maybe even a thrown elbow or two (okay, maybe not, but it’s definitely crossed my mind).

But here’s the thing: I don’t cut lines. Ever. I’m a firm believer in karma, and besides, I’m far too conflict-averse to even think about it. However, I do enjoy observing the reactions of those who do. It’s like watching a perfectly choreographed dance of passive-aggression.