The Meanderthals and me

This article was published in the Canberra Times in March 2010

They are the 'meanderthals' – people who display an almost primitive ignorance of social graces as they amble down the footpath two or three abreast. As well as dawdling along with prams, this species also enjoys coming to a sudden standstill, oblivious to those around them, so that they can elucidate a particular point in their conversation, hands flapping and eyes blinkered. While their distribution is widespread, they seem to particularly favour the very busiest and narrowest of footpaths, mainly in my neighbourhood.

Wherever there is a meanderthal, one can also expect to find their co-dependent, 'homo erestless'. These are the people who anxiously hop around behind the group, darting from one side to the other, assessing if there's room to pass. Generally, homo erestless are a passive aggressive bunch so, rather than actually verbalising any complaint, they'll huff dramatically under their breath while clipping at the heels of their arch-nemesis. Yeah, that'll teach them.

Maybe Guns 'N' Roses were on to something when they sang, “All we need is just a little patience”. Whether it is irritation with slow walkers, people who take forever to dig the coins out of their purse at the supermarket, or any form of telephone menu system, impatience seems to be the emotion that unites us these days.

Reports from the UK this week have suggested that Generation Y, having grown up in a culture where they have never had to wait for anything, are suffering academically due to their expectation that nothing is worth waiting for. In a world of instant turf, instant coffee and instant messenger, we've all turned into Veruca Salt imploring that we “want it now” and to be forced to wait, even for a few seconds here and there, could damn well nearly kill us.

To further illustrate the point, take a close look at the controls the next time you hop in a lift. More often than not, the only one showing any visible sign of wear will be the 'close door' button.

For years there has been debate raging on the internet about whether this button actually does anything at all. Conspiracy theorists suggest that it acts purely as a placebo for our impatience, creating the illusion that we are really in charge. Whether we don't want to wait for some indecisive slow coach to wander over to 'our' lift or because we can't bear the thought that the automatic door close might not kick in for another five or ten seconds, the desperate repeated jabbing of this button points to the same ill – the self-belief that we are far too important and special to be held up by other people and pointless tasks such as standing still.

And then there's that other sub-set of button pushers – the pedestrian light abusers. These people will hit the button with such force and repetition that you could swear the Department of Transport has an employee at each set of lights, watching for just the right amount of ferocity and urgency before turning the walk light on. A peculiar characteristic of these slightly desperate and edgy people is that they seem to have very little sense of shame as they pummel yet another button into submission. And when of course the light eventually does change, they'll smugly glance around at all the other pedestrians with a look that says, 'See? You've just got to show these buttons who's boss!'

What is most curious about impatience is that we know it is essentially futile. All that irritation bubbling away doesn't teach anybody a lesson, it only corrodes us away from the inside. We are just creating extra stress for ourselves while not making a jot of difference to a world that doesn't care either way if we are home in time to watch the news.

As an antidote to my own severe case of impatience, I have started going on long walks with my two-year-old. Sure, it can be painfully slow and frustrating at times as we stop to pat stray cats, run sticks across paling fences and collect fallen leaves, but generally speaking I feel more relaxed for slowing things down a little.

In fact, I've come to realise that maybe the meanderthals aren't the selfish, ill-mannered lot that I had made them out to be. Maybe we should be preserving their species as I have a sneaking suspicion that they are the ones who know how to relax and who are actually enjoying life and all it has to offer. Perhaps we should all take a lesson from Mae West when she said that "anything worth doing is worth doing slowly”.