Pardon me, eh?


Canadian’s are ridiculously polite…on the outside, that is. Inside we’re thinking something entirely different. Take for instance the fact that we line up for elevators. The building I work in quite possibly has the worst and longest wait for its elevators within the known Universe.  Yet, while elevators 1, 2 and 3 are conveniently ‘parked’ on floors, 16, 5 and 12 – the 4th elevator will eventually glide down (stopping on every single stop) to the lobby.  You just know that only one person gets out.

However, there we are – cued up like good little boys and girls for the oncoming ride. All that is…except for those few individuals that march right past the cue and stand at the front of the line, pretending the nice, neat row of 12 or so people behind them just doesn’t exist.

And we say nothing.

No one speaks up.

We stand there placidly looking at the floor, or our watches or cautiously  glance here and there almost nervously.

But you know what we’re thinking, don’t you?

How DARE she cut in front of the line, why that &!@#@#!!!, did she NOT see the rest of us?! She must not be Canadian! Pft! Next time she’d better at the very least say: Pardon me or excuse me or even sorry! Then, of course, she’s perfectly welcome to jump the cue and we won’t stand quietly staring at her in disbelief whilst showing no expression on our faces, whatsoever. No, we will acknowledge her apology and smile at her. We may even say:

Oh, that’s ok!

And that, my friends, is what really goes on in our Canadian heads.

True story.

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