I had to choose a line. As usual, I chose wrong.
I went to the grocery store early this morning and picked up a basket of goods. I generally take no more than will fit in my day pack; today was no exception.
Basket in hand, I had to choose a line. I stood behind an elderly man whose items had already been scanned. He was reaching into his zippered wallet, so he’d be finished soon. The other line held a woman who hadn’t yet begun to check out. I was golden.
The man ahead of me pulled chaotic wads of bills from his wallet. After laying several on the counter, he began to sort, slowly and with a hint of confusion. It took several minutes, several stops and starts, for him to accumulate the correct bills, asking the clerk to remind him of the amount at least once.
Handing over the bills, the man began dredging his wallet for change to finish the transaction. That took another minute, and he gave more than necessary, requiring some additional sorting.
In the line I didn’t choose, several people had cleared checkout. People from that line were already home and making breakfast.
But there was no urgency. The clerk waited patiently, and quietly returned the surplus change he’d provided. This man was unusually slow, even by the relaxed Thai standards, but there was no toe-tapping, no sighing. People waited quietly for him to complete his transaction at the pace he could master.