Waiting is never fun, and I am grateful that I carry a book. The room is filled with people in my similar position when an older gentleman in loafers, glasses that qualify more as spectacles, and pleated linen trousers (not pants!) enters. Instead of joining the queue, he starts eyeing everyone up.
“Ok, ok.” He nods with satisfaction. And then to me, “Good. She is covered. Got her book.”
Apparently, he had appointed himself in charge of making sure everyone was occupied.
“Wait. Wait. It’s all about waiting.” Only then does he join the line.
I am also grateful for eavesdropping.