The trauma of the 15 yard dash

Football is the opium of the German people. Vereine, or local clubs, now have over six million active members on their books – more than any other European nation, including the footy-mad UK.

But in a country of 84 million people, that means actually only slightly more than 7 percent play the game. However, as any non-German will know only too well, there is another sport enjoyed by, ooh let me see, about the entire adult population of Germany: the 15 yard dash – to the front of queues.

German queues are a nightmare for the British who are drilled from birth to stand politely in line until it is your turn. Worst-case scenario: the queue that doesn’t look like a queue, but more like a blob of people pushing their way towards a counter, onto a bus, into a theatre...the list is endless. This author has even stood in queues that bend around and cut back across themselves, longing for those airport barriers that keep the hoi polloi in check.

And if German queues/blobs weren’t traumatic enough, the 15 yard dash is enough to turn the average Brit, with his repertoire of “sorrys” and “after yous,” into a gibbering wreck.

The usual arena for the game is the supermarket. But you can play practically anywhere: from the ski lifts of Garmisch-Partenkirchen, to the cloakroom at Berlin’s State Opera. Open to people of all ages and from all walks of life, the object is quite simple: to get to the front of the queue at all costs. Such as dignity, politeness, and goodwill to fellow men. There is only one rule: NEVER LOOK THE OPPOSITION IN THE EYE. You look, you lose.

I appreciate it might be difficult for the uninitiated to imagine how the game works, so I’ve drawn a sketch, albeit a rather rough and ready one, to illustrate a typical passage of play (click to enlarge).

This supermarket has three tills. Tills 1 and 3 are open. Till 2 is unmanned. The queues are growing. The game can commence.

Sufficient tutting by queuing customers will ensure that sooner or later till 2 is opened. To get there first you have to be alert, nimble, and utterly ruthless. Because the second a shop employee comes within range of till 2, it’s every Jürgen for himself.

As you can see, the first couple of people in each queue have to weigh up whether it is worth playing at all. The stakes are higher for them because they might end up further back, losing their original position and a good deal of face to boot: a nightmare scenario for any player. The more likely challengers are therefore the people towards the back. Not just because they have less to lose, but also because they have a better view of the approaching cashier.

By this stage the challengers’ eyes will be all over the place, as they scan the arena on the lookout for an employee. Even the spotty apprentice stacking the Happy End toilet paper is ogled like the gatekeeper to paradise.

Someone’s approaching. Nervous shuffling and murmering. It’s a waiting game. The staff member might not be going to open the till after all. One false move and you can end up with egg all over your face. Timing is crucial.

Another danger comes in the shape of the outsiders – people who weren’t queuing at all, but who are just arriving, and have spotted a cashier heading towards a till. They can use their momentum to nip in front of their stationary rivals.

Then everything happens very quickly. All hell breaks loose to the sound of clattering trolleys. Rotund housewives and their even more rotund husbands – adrenaline pumping through their veins – fight tooth and nail to prevent the supermarket from stealing precious minutes of their dreary lives.

And in just a few split seconds, a billion years of evolution are annihilated. Man returns to his most primitive form, grunting his flabby way to the front of the queue clutching not a club but a Dr Oetker “Hawaiian” pizza, a box of Pop Tarts, and a tube of Squeezee Cheese.

Comments

[Cathy]

Hahaha! I know this experience all too well!

[Sally]

After having spent some time in France I actually ENJOYED the queue game in Germany. I'd forgotten that in France they queue for nothing. There is just a throng of people in front of the till, box office whatever. The only thing they will politely queue for is art exhibitions. I stood in an orderly one in front of the Musée d'Orsay two years ago and took a photo of myself doing so as proof!

But my recent trip to Brittany and the chaos whose nom de plume is France brought it all back. Things don't work, people are late and they don't stand in queues. It makes me realise that Allemagne is not such a bad old stick after all.

[mud]

Ahh yes... oh how many times I've been through this experience. But I admit I still have trouble nudging old people out of the even though they have no problem elbowing me. I've found Berliners to be more polite than Schwabens. In Stuttgart it's a free for all :)

[BiB]

Excellent. Lovely post. I thought of it/you today as I experienced PRECISELY this phenomenon at the Extra near Senefelderplatz.

[Prof Shaun T Sheep]

No way. That's my local supermarket as well!!!

[BiB]

Gosh, I hadn't realised your diagram was so supermarket-specific. In which case, it's absolutely perfect. It happened so precisely as you described it. Now that I see you are a soothsayer, can you let me know how the next few years of my life are going to pan out?