There are a number (a large number) of things that I do that either alienate or bother people. Personal quirks and odd "rules" about life and things that people either never think about or don't want to think about. One of them routinely presents itself at the local liquor store, which I visit on an all-too routine basis.
There are two cashiers, separated by a small aisle but no distinct separating dividers. Normally, the store is busy, because we're big-time alcoholics here in Jersey. When both cashiers are occupied, my habit is to straddle the lines and avoid choosing one over the other. I feel it is within my rights as a customer to do so, and you're not going to convince me otherwise.
Last night, there I was, standing in my place. Feet shoulder-width apart with my six-pack of Victory Golden Monkey in hand. It's a fine product. The customer to my left had a cart full of stuff. Mostly that crappy light beer and some snacks. Obviously single and staying that way. The one to my right had a twelve-pack of Coors Light. A waste of money.
As the line grew, another man stepped to the side of me and wondered aloud, "Which line are you in?"
I replied, "The next one," which I figured was the correct response. When the guy with the cart full of junk left, I assumed his space in line, after which, the rest of the customers chose one line or the other.
I turned to the guy behind me and said, "Why wouldn't you just wait for the next cashier? Why choose a line? Isn't that the smart thing to do?" I knew he would nod in agreement, but wouldn't really understand, since he had taken his place behind me rather than waiting for the next cashier. Looking back, I noticed that the rest of them had chosen one line or the other, apparently in defiance of my "next available cashier" method.
Some folks, you just can't reach.