Is it just ME?
Or are dawdlers really infuriating?
I’M NOT exactly Speedy Gonzales myself, and yes, as I age I search for words that somehow slip under the sofa cushions when they used to be on the tip of my tongue — but if I struggle, I will find another way to explain instead.
Hand gestures, charades, I don’t just stand there saying umm, well, umm, waiting for the next ice age while I rifle through the brain Rolodex.
I don’t take ten minutes to get to the end of the sentence, speaking like someone playing a 45rpm vinyl single at 33rpm. Get on with it, I’m silently screaming, while all but winding them up like a vintage car.
The world is divided into the buzzy and the bumblers. And as I’m one of the former, it’s fair to say slow people make me very, very tense.
It’s especially irritating when you’re in a presentation and someone is reading aloud from the agenda, and
Get on with it I silently scream, tempted to wind them up like a vintage car
you’ve already scanned the document while they’re still on the first, um, erm, line. I want to shout: ‘Spit it out chop chop!’
And then there are the office idlers, who stroll when everyone else is sprinting, who want to have long chats about their favourite yoghurt, and who never jump up when there’s a task to be done, or a parcel to be signed for and, more importantly, when it’s time to get a round in.
They’re watching dust drift through the air, looking doubtful over whether ‘think’ is in their job description.
Speed it up, please folks, tectonic plates are colliding while your idea of multitasking is chatting and standing upright.
Home doesn’t even bring respite. When my partner decides to cook he takes five hours to produce spaghetti.
Trips out are no less fraught — he’ll still be deciding which coat to wear when I’m in the car with the engine revved. The temptation to run him over instead of opening the door is strong.
So, dawdlers, hear this: be faster! Whatever it takes, just get going. Life is a-wasting while you are emptying the dishwasher one spoon at a time.