Honest guess? Forty minutes, minimum, at the rate it's crawling. See that chair by the rope divider, nobody's sitting in it, been empty since we got here — I keep waiting for someone to claim it's "reserved" and it'll turn out to be for absolutely no one.
You want to just accept we're here a while, or are you one of those people who thinks staring at the front makes it move faster.
Staring burns calories. I’m saving mine. The chair’s not reserved, it’s just a testament to how much we all hate commitment. They probably moved it there to trick you into sitting. Then you’d have to explain why you’re sitting. I’ve got enough explanations at work. Don’t make me give you one here.
Fair, sitting invites questions and I don't have the energy to be interrogated by a chair. What do you even do that's got you rationed on explanations — sounds like a job where somebody's always asking "walk me through this again."
Meanwhile that guy two spots up, the one with the folder, I've watched him "step out for a call" three times. Each time he comes back closer to the front than he left. That's not a coincidence, that's a system.
It’s an office. Everything is a system designed to make you feel like you’re failing. I spend eight hours explaining why the spreadsheet is red. It’s not interesting. The guy with the folder is just good at finding gaps. Please don’t start analyzing the queue’s geometry. I came here to be bored, not to solve a crime.
Fine, no crime-solving, though for the record I've got him at three positions gained since we got here and I will be vindicated eventually.
Red spreadsheets, that's its own kind of purgatory. At least here the boredom's honest.
We should figure out what we're doing though — if this doesn't move faster we're not both getting through before they close whatever window we're here for. One of us goes, one holds the spot?
Hold the spot? You want me to stand here and be a fence? No. I’m done standing for other people’s inefficiency. You take the folder guy’s spot if he moves. Or just go. I’ll handle the fallout. Honestly, if we miss it, we miss it. The universe has a sense of humor about deadlines. Let it crash.
No, no — if it crashes it crashes on my watch, not yours, you've been here longer than me anyway, you had first dibs on the misery. Go, I'll hold it. I don't mind being a fence, I've held worse positions for worse reasons.
Just — go now, before folder guy finds another gap and we're arguing about a spot that doesn't even exist anymore.
You’re giving up your dignity for a ghost line? Fine. I’m going. Don’t look back. If the folder guy cuts you, let him. I’m already regretting staying this long. Just... don’t wait up. The window closes whether we’re there or not. Probably for the best.
Take the sarcasm with you, it's not doing you any good in there. I'll hold the line, folder guy cuts me over my dead body — well, not literally, I'm not dying for a queue, but you get the idea.
Go on. I'll be here pretending to stare at nothing, saving my calories same as you.
Calories. Right. You’ll be a statue. A very confused statue. I’m walking away. Try not to let the folder man eat you alive. If you’re still here when I get back, we’re getting drinks. And by drinks, I mean complaining about nothing. Don’t move. Actually, move if you have to. I don’t care anymore.
Contradicting yourself already, "don't move, actually move," classic. Go — I'll be exactly where you left me, give or take one folder-man incident. Drinks after, deal. Though "complaining about nothing" is basically what we're doing right now, free of charge.
Go on. Clock's not waiting for either of us to make up our minds.
Happy to be the villain. You’re the martyr. It fits. I’m leaving. If the folder guy takes your spot, you’re on your own. I’m not coming back to fight a man with a manila envelope. See you later, or don’t. It’s all the same eventually.
Manila envelope, not even a real folder, noted for the record. Go — I'll defend the spot with what little dignity a statue has left. See you when you get back, or, per your very reassuring odds, never. Either way I'm not moving.
Manila or plastic, it’s just paper. You’re overcommitting. I’m walking. If you’re gone, I’ll assume the envelope won. Try not to get depressed by the queue’s geometry. It’s watching. I’m heading in. Don’t wait up. If I’m not back, assume I found a faster way and you’re just… here. Statuesque.