QUEUING RULES
'And the Lord said unto Moses, "Come forth!" And he came third, and got sent to the back for pushing.'
In 1946, the Hungarian humorist George Mikes described queuing as our 'national passion'. 'On the Continent,' he said, 'if people are waiting at a bus-stop they loiter around in a seemingly vague fashion. When the bus arrives they make a dash for it... An Englishman, even if he is alone, forms an orderly queue of one.' In an update over thirty years later, in 1977, he confirmed that this was still the case. After nearly another thirty years, nothing much seems to have changed - but English queuing is not quite as simple as Mikes makes it sound.
I saw a headline recently in a Sunday broadsheet, bemoaning the fact that the English had 'lost the art of queuing'. Puzzled, as this was not what my own observation fieldwork had shown, I read on. It turned out that the author had been in a queue, someone had tried to jump the queue, and both she and the other queuers had been outraged and disgusted - but no-one had had the courage to tackle the queue-jumper in a sufficiently forceful manner (they just humphed and tutted), so he had got away with it. Far from constituting any sort of evidence for its loss, this struck me as a perfectly accurate description of the English art of queuing.
The Indirectness Rule
The English expect each other to observe the rules of queuing, feel highly offended when these rules are violated, but lack the confidence or social skills to express their annoyance in a straightforward manner. In other countries, this is not a problem: in America, where a queue-jumper has committed a misdemeanour rather than a cardinal sin, the response is loud and prescriptive: the offender is simply told 'Hey, you, get back in line!' or words to that effect. On the Continent, the reaction tends to be loud and argumentative; in some other parts of the world, queue-jumpers may simply be unceremoniously pushed and shoved back into line - but the end result is much the same. Paradoxically, it is only in England, where queue-jumping is regarded as deeply immoral, that the queue-jumper is likely to get away with the offence. We huff and puff and scowl and mutter and seethe with righteous indignation, but only rarely do we actually speak up and tell the jumper to go to the back of the queue.
Try it yourself if you don't believe me. I had to, so I don't see why you shouldn't suffer as well. Sorry to sound so grumpy, but my queue-jumping experiments were the most difficult and distasteful and upsetting of all the rule-breaking field-experiments I conducted during the research for this book. Far worse than bumping, much worse even than asking people the price of their house or what they did for a living - just the thought of queue-jumping was so horribly embarrassing that I very nearly abandoned the whole project rather than subject myself to such an ordeal. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I hesitated and agonized and procrastinated, and then even when I thought I had managed to steel myself, I would lose my nerve at the last minute, and slink humbly to the back of the queue, hoping no-one had noticed that I had even been considering jumping it.
The Paranoid Pantomime Rule
That last bit might sound silly, or even clinically paranoid, but I actually learnt something from all my wimpish hovering in the vicinity of likely queues, which is that the English do notice when someone is considering jumping a queue. They start glancing at you sideways, through narrowed, suspicious eyes. Then they shuffle a bit closer to the person in front of them, just in case you might try to insert yourself in the gap. They adopt a more belligerent, territorial posture - putting a hand on a hip, 'squaring up' to the potential threat, or ostentatiously turning a shoulder away from you. The body language is quite subtle - perhaps not even visible to a foreigner unaccustomed to our ways - but to an English would-be queue-jumper the non-verbal message is clear: it says 'We know what you're thinking, you cheating little fiend, but don't imagine you're going to get away with it because we're onto you'.
It is important to note that this kind of paranoid pantomime only occurs when there is some ambiguity in the structure of the queue. No-one would even think of simply barging to the front of a single, straightforward, obvious queue. (This is so unthinkable that if it does happen, people will assume that it is a genuine dire emergency, or perhaps an ignorant foreigner.) The potential for queue-jumping only arises when there is some doubt about exactly where the queue starts and ends - when there is a break or gap in a queue due to some obstruction or to allow people to pass through, for example, or when two people are serving behind the same counter and it is not entirely clear whether there is one queue or two separate queues, or some other element of confusion or uncertainty.
The English have an acute sense of fairness, and what in other cultures would be seen as entirely legitimate opportunistic behaviour - such as heading directly for the 'free' cashier when there are two people already waiting to be served in front of the cashier alongside, who have simply not been quick enough to move across - is here regarded as queue-jumping, or tantamount to queue-jumping. I am not saying that English people do not perform this manoeuvre: they do, but it is obvious from their self-consciously disingenuous manner, particularly the way they carefully avoid looking at the queuers, that they know they are cheating, and the reactions of the queuers indicate that such behaviour is severely frowned upon. You can tell by the severe frowns.
Body-language and Muttering Rules
But frowns, glares, raised eyebrows and contemptuous looks - accompanied by heavy sighs, pointed coughs, scornful snorts, tutting and muttering ('Well, really!' 'Bloody hell!' 'Huh, typical.' 'What the...') - are usually the worst that you will be subjected to if you jump a queue. The queuers are hoping to shame you into retreating to the back of the queue, without actually having to break the denial rule and 'cause a scene' or 'make a fuss' or 'draw attention to themselves' by addressing you directly.
Ironically, they will often in these circumstances break the denial rule by addressing each other. A queue jumper can prompt complete strangers to exchange raised eyebrows, eye-rolls, pursed-lipped head-shakes, tutts, sighs and even (quiet) verbal comments. These verbal exchanges between queuers include the standard mutters mentioned above, and some that clearly ought to be addressed to the jumper, such as 'Hello, there's a queue here!', 'Oh, don't mind us!' and 'Oi, are we invisible or what?' Occasionally, some brave souls will make these remarks in tones loud enough for the jumper to overhear, but they will avoid looking at the jumper, and glance away immediately if they should happen inadvertently to make eye contact.
Feeble and utterly irrational as they may sound, these indirect measures can often be remarkably effective. Yes, it is probably easier to get away with queue-jumping in England than anywhere else, but only if you can bear the humiliation of all those eyebrows, coughs, tutts and mutters - in other words, only if you are not English. In my endless queue-watching, I noticed that many foreigners are simply oblivious to all of these signals, much to the mute fury of English queuers, but that most English queue-jumpers find it hard to ignore the barrage of sighs and scowls. Having jumped the queue, they may brazen it out, but one gets the impression that they will think twice about doing it again. In many cases, queue-jumping is effectively 'nipped in the bud' by nonverbal signals alone. I have often seen would-be jumpers start to approach, and then, faced with a scornful eyebrow or two, a warning cough and a bit of territorial posturing, rapidly think better of it and retreat meekly to the back of the queue.