How do some people not fall down more?

I have an occasional blood sugar thing. I don’t know what it is, but sometimes I go all wibbly and if I don’t get sugar quickly I will see spots and pass out. The sugar gives me enough time to get somewhere I can eat proper food that contains bread or some other slow-release carbohydrate. And yes, I do have breakfast. (Incidentally – ‘best’-seeing-spots-incident-ever was on the way to work one morning when I lived in Muswell Hill. I’d got up, got ready, got out, got the bus and suddenly came over all funny at Finsbury Park. I had to sit down in the newsagent’s drinks fridge and the owner had to provide me with a chair while I recovered. To stop people leaning over me to pick up bottles of water.)

Anyway. Nipped into Lewisham today and felt the familiar feeling. No worry, I went to M&S and picked up a chocolate bar and a pasta thing to eat when I got home. Unfortunately I got stuck behind Archetypal Old Woman Shopper at the till.

AOWS: "Can you tell me the price of these pyjamas?"
Me: *thinks* [this is the food section. Clothes are over there. Why didn’t you sort this out before you got to the food tills? Why are you even at the food tills? You have no food!]
Cashier: [searching for label] Sorry, there’s no label on this. You’ll need to take this over there and ask someone to help you.
AOWS: [staring blankly]
Cashier: [realising she’s on a hiding to nothing here, searches some more for any scrap of identifying information. Finally, she finds something on the washing instructions and taps it in] That’s seven pounds.
AOWS: And those children’s jumpers, they should be in a pack of two but I can only find one.
Me: *thinks* I’m going fucking hypoglycemic! Come on cashier, please tell me there’s a simple solution to this…
Cashier: [just swipes them through] That’s eleven twenty-five please.

At this point AOWS starts slowly unzipping her bag. Fumbles for her purse. Extracts money with the kind of care normally seen in brain surgery. Little white spots are developing in front of my eyes. The queue grows behind me. AOWS finally hands over the money then starts, very very slowly, packing away the goods. I have had enough and shove my food forward on the conveyor and move to the packing area, demonstrating my determination to the cashier to get out of that shop before, say, the US elections. The cashier looks a little confused – clearly, good M&S policy is not to start serving one customer until the previous one has gone – but AOWS is taking forever, and is still sorting out her shopping after I’ve paid, ripped open the chocolate bar and begun devouring it for the immediate sugar high.

How do people go shopping, pick up goods and get to the till without realising that at some point they will need to pay for said goods, and therefore it might be an idea to have the money ready, or at least have a good idea where it is? How did the human race ever get to this point of development? Truly, the gene pool needs a little chlorine now and again.

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