The Unseen Choreographer Rule

All of this embarrassment and hostility would be avoided, of course, if the English could just manage to be straightforwardly assertive, and simply say to queue-jumpers, ‘Excuse me, but there is a queue here.’ But no. Our typical responses are closer to what psychotherapists would call ‘passive-aggressive’. The same psychotherapists, reading this, would probably recommend that the entire nation be sent on one of those assertiveness-training courses. And they might well be right: assertiveness is clearly not our strong point. We can do aggression, including both outright violence and devious, ineffectual passive-aggression – and we can do the opposite, over-polite self-effacement and stoical, passive resignation. But we veer between these two extremes: we can never seem to achieve that happy medium of grown-up, socially skilled, rational assertion. But then, the world would really be awfully dull if everyone behaved in the correct, sensible, assertive manner, as taught on communication-skills courses – and much less amusing for me to watch.

And anyway, there is a positive side to the English approach to queuing. Where there is an ambiguity, such as the ‘two cashiers at one counter’ problem described above, we often simply resolve it of our own accord, silently and without fuss – in this case by forming a single orderly queue, a few feet back from the counter, so that the customer at the front can step forward whenever either one of the cashiers becomes free.

If you are English, you may be reading this and thinking, Yes? Well? So what? Of course. Obvious thing to do. We tend to take this kind of thing for granted – in fact, we do it automatically, as though some unseen fair-minded choreographer were controlling our movements, arranging us into a tidy, democratic line. But many of the foreign visitors I interviewed regard these processes with open-mouthed amazement. Bill Bryson comments glowingly on exactly the same typical queuing scenario in his book about England; I met some American tourists who had read his book and didn’t believe him, or at least assumed that he was exaggerating for comic effect, until they came here and saw the procedure for themselves. They were even less inclined to believe my account of the ‘invisible queue’ mechanism in pubs – in the end I had to drag them to the nearest pub to prove that I was not making it up.

The Fair-play Rule

And there are smaller, more subtle, everyday queuing courtesies that even sharp-eyed foreigners may not notice. One of my many scribbled fieldwork notes on this subject concerns a queue in a train-station coffee shop.

Man in queue ahead of me moves out of queue briefly to take a sandwich from nearby cooler cabinet. Then seems a bit hesitant, unsure as to whether he has thereby forfeited his place in the queue. I make it clear (by taking a step back) that he has not, so he resumes his position in front of me, with a little nod of thanks. No speech or eye contact involved.

Another train-station note reads:

Two males ahead of me at information-desk counter, not entirely clear which of them is first (there were two people serving, now only one). They’re doing the pantomime, sideways glances, edging forward, hints of territorial posture, etc. Clever cashier notices this and says ‘Who’s next?’ They both look embarrassed. Man on left makes open-palm, go-ahead gesture to the other man. Man on right mumbles ‘No, s’allright, you go.’ Man on left hesitates ‘Well, um . . .’ Person behind me gives oh-do-get-on-with-it cough. Man on left says hurriedly ‘Oh, allright – ’anks, mate’ and proceeds with his enquiry, looking a bit uncomfortable. Man on right waits patiently, looking rather smug and pleased with himself.

These incidents were by no means isolated or unusual: I have transcribed these accounts from the dozens in my queuing-observation notes precisely because they are the most typical, mundane, everyday examples. Now, I see that the common denominator, the unwritten rule governing these incidents, is immediately obvious: if you ‘play fair’ and explicitly acknowledge the rights and prior claims of those in front of you in a queue – or generously give them the benefit of the doubt where there is some ambiguity – they will instantly drop all their paranoid suspicions and passive-aggressive tactics, and treat you fairly, or even generously, in return.

Queuing is all about fairness. As Mikes points out, ‘A man in a queue is a fair man; he is minding his own business; he lives and lets live; he gives the other fellow a chance; he practises a duty while waiting to practise his own rights; he does almost everything an Englishman believes in doing’.