In addition to mothering, wifering and lawyering, I sell tickets at Beaver Creek a couple of days a week during the ski season. You can tell a lot about a person from their approach to an empty line maze at the ticket office.
There are those who walk in and mindlessly trudge back and forth through the stanchions and wait at the end to be called to the window. These souls, I imagine, had a drill sergeant for a kindergarten teacher. Their malleable minds accepted the ways of the world. Follow the rules, stay in line, keep your hands to yourself, don’t make waves.
And then there are the rule breakers, the trouble makers, the rebels without a ticket. They walk right past the “line forms here” sign and straight up to the window. Their attitude: I’m entitled, I’m important, I don’t spend energy on a line without purpose. You just know they were the ones who started the food fight.