Touch the Substitute in the Waiting Line

Oh this is quite definitely going to get me in trouble. I even happen to know someone who’s currently a substitute teacher. Envy my social circle, feel the jealousy coursing through your veins.  Just before we get down to anything though, it’s always worth remembering that you don’t actually have to obey every last thing I say that could be interpreted as a command, order or garden variety demand.

When I say touch the substitute in the waiting line I absolutely do not mean that the next time you find yourself standing in a queue for some good or service and discover that someone in your vicinity is an itinerant educator you ought to connect your fingers with their face. Or anywhere else such as fun time region or special place. If you feel such an overwhelming urge bubbling up then try and restrain yourself. Remember that you’re British and we don’t like physical contact. Or if you’re not then at least attempt to get unequivocal permission before any touching occurs.

Obviously I’m talking in metaphor or hyperbole or whatever (it doesn’t really make sense there, I just like the word hyperbole and enjoy setting pronunciation traps for the unsuspecting. Oh yes, I am that kind of evil. Also in a slightly strange mood, not sure why). Or perhaps I’m hedging my way towards addressing a situation when all social protocols have broken down and how you should get through such a thing alive.

Queuing is a very important practice. It’s one of the few methods we have in this world of making sure that the deserving are rewarded. If you want a thing then you should be prepared to do something in order to earn it. Waiting around for an indeterminate period of time seems like a perfectly reasonable way to achieve that. However, when folk attempt to buck the system by barging in or having others to hold their place then you should feel free to touch them. A poke to the shoulder to demand what they’re doing is reasonable. A shove might be going too far. Bludgeoning them to death might be a little frowned upon.

Song choices courtesy of: Julie Fowlis, Frank Turner and Zero 7

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