Since living in the UK I have come to believe that there are certain cultural attitudes which, no matter how long you live in a place, never change.
With the best will in the world I have tried to appreciate that the British like to hold on to tradition, and in some cases I completely respect this. However, on the flip side, in relation to some matters of everyday life I just think they're too lazy and/or ignorant to try and change some infuriating and old-fashioned ways.
Over the course of several years it has sucked the life out of me to simply put up and shut up. And put up I often have.
I used to find it quaint the way people queued all the way out of a shop, for instance a bakery, to get served. I giggled each time I passed a sandwich shop and saw the quiet, single-file line of customers jutting out almost onto the road. In typical obedient British style, these people queued without complaint, the only movement being a shuffle towards that hallowed place at the front of the line. I have done the shuffle myself now, many times.
Once you make it to the counter you get the kind of 'service' that could only possibly be given by an 18-year-old bovine who really couldn't give a small toss what you're having for lunch ("I'll have a mayonnaise sandwich on stale white with extra butter please, oh and hold any salad unless it's that limp piece of lettuce sitting at the back there, under that fly").
The counter assistant (or should I say counter productive assistant) could then do something novel, like ask you what you would like before going about the all-important business of doing what he or she's paid for. But no, they would rather finish telling their hilarious/miserable/highly important story to their colleague before they even acknowledge your presence. And when they finally getting around to even looking at you, let alone asking for your order, they don't bother apologising for the wait because, as I say, they really couldn't care less.
Ironically, you're the mutant in their world, you interrupt them several times a day to ask them for stuff and, like, give them you're f*cking money.
Rant finished.
When I was back home on holiday recently the girl at the checkout at Coles asked me how I was and I almost blacked out, put it that way.
With the best will in the world I have tried to appreciate that the British like to hold on to tradition, and in some cases I completely respect this. However, on the flip side, in relation to some matters of everyday life I just think they're too lazy and/or ignorant to try and change some infuriating and old-fashioned ways.
Over the course of several years it has sucked the life out of me to simply put up and shut up. And put up I often have.
I used to find it quaint the way people queued all the way out of a shop, for instance a bakery, to get served. I giggled each time I passed a sandwich shop and saw the quiet, single-file line of customers jutting out almost onto the road. In typical obedient British style, these people queued without complaint, the only movement being a shuffle towards that hallowed place at the front of the line. I have done the shuffle myself now, many times.
Once you make it to the counter you get the kind of 'service' that could only possibly be given by an 18-year-old bovine who really couldn't give a small toss what you're having for lunch ("I'll have a mayonnaise sandwich on stale white with extra butter please, oh and hold any salad unless it's that limp piece of lettuce sitting at the back there, under that fly").
The counter assistant (or should I say counter productive assistant) could then do something novel, like ask you what you would like before going about the all-important business of doing what he or she's paid for. But no, they would rather finish telling their hilarious/miserable/highly important story to their colleague before they even acknowledge your presence. And when they finally getting around to even looking at you, let alone asking for your order, they don't bother apologising for the wait because, as I say, they really couldn't care less.
Ironically, you're the mutant in their world, you interrupt them several times a day to ask them for stuff and, like, give them you're f*cking money.
Rant finished.
When I was back home on holiday recently the girl at the checkout at Coles asked me how I was and I almost blacked out, put it that way.
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