Patience

As I queued at the stationery shop today, I reflected on how there's nothing worse than being at the back of a slow queue.

 Except being at the back of a slow queue that noone else joins.

At least if someone joins the end of the queue, you have the satisfaction of knowing that if you hadn't joined when you did, you would be behind that person behind you now.  In a very small, insignificant way, you have beaten them.  You have won.

But when you're always at the back, you may as well have been sitting in the cafe next door while they were queuing.  Then you could have strolled casually up to the empty counter and completed your purchase quickly and efficiently. 

Queuing is stolen time. You will never get that time back.  Ever.
If you spent fifteen minutes a day queuing, then that would translate to 91 hours per year.  And if you charged yourself out at an hourly rate of say, $20, then they would owe you a total of $1820 for your time.  It's daylight robbery.

Patience has never been a gift of mine.

Nor has coping with disappointment.

The end.