Shut the Fuck Up and Move the Line

I don’t know if this is a byproduct of the information age or if humans have always been this way and I’m just old enough now to notice it, but I am getting increasingly irritated with other human fucking beings in public spaces.

And no, before you jump to conclusions, that’s not because there are people. I’ve learned to wait in lines. Long fucking lines. I can handle traffic. I can handle inconvenience. That’s not what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about people’s overwhelming need to say stupid shit out loud and be heard during customer service interactions.

The other day I stopped at the bank to pull out cash. I’d just gotten a quote for an air cleaner, pipes, computer, and tune on my new Road Glide, and I wanted to put down a cash deposit so the shop could order parts. Cash saves money, no credit card processing fee. Three percent doesn’t matter on a ten-dollar sandwich, but when you’re dropping five grand on a motorcycle, it fucking adds up.

So I go to the bank. And I still end up paying the three percent, just in the form of my time, standing in line behind idiots.

There were only two tellers. This matters.

The guy in front of me finishes his transaction. He is done. The polite, socially functional move here is to leave, free up the teller so the eight people behind you can handle their shit.

But no. He needed to be heard.

So he just… stood there. Eating time. Explaining some rambling, pointless story about his debit card. “What had happened,” he says, despite the fact that the issue was already resolved. The teller had already fixed it. Already said “thank you,” which in customer service language translates roughly to please go away now.

But he couldn’t.

He kept talking. Kept explaining. Kept looking at her for feedback, like she was supposed to give a shit.

She didn’t.

I didn’t.

Nobody in line did.

Because we weren’t there for Bob’s ATM Card Show. We were there for our own business. Our own lives. Our own limited fucking time on this planet.

And here’s the thing: this wasn’t an isolated incident. I see this everywhere there’s a line.

People saying idiotic things. Demanding attention. Needing validation from absolute strangers who did not consent to their fucking monologue.

You know… kind of like social media.

When I leave my house, it’s usually with a purpose. Okay, fine, most of the time that purpose is a motorcycle ride. But when I end up at a store or an institution, I’m there for a reason. And that reason is not to listen to some unfunny, uninteresting, not-even-clever story that fell out of someone’s mouth because silence made them uncomfortable.

So stop it.

Move the line. Say thank you. Leave.

And yes—I am fully aware of the irony of shouting this into a blog that I hope people read. That irony is not lost on me.

But here’s the difference: You chose to be here. I didn’t choose to stand behind you at the bank while you narrated your personality.