Standing on the fresh meats aisle of Morrison’s, I realise that the human race will not survive another thousand years. When I think about war, political and corporate corruption, I can never fully escape the horrific realisation that all these things are being controlled by people. You want a measure of how competent people are? You needn’t look further than the difficulties faced by a group of three people trying to walk down a five person wide shopping isle.
Agreed pathways blocked. Trolleys parked hap-hazardly. An old woman stares at a peach and before thinking to say “excuse me” someone equally absent minded gently battering rams her with their four wheeled wrecking ball. The isle comes to a standstill. Shopper’s mouths agape. No one really reacting. This is how car accidents happen. Wars.
Why should a race that can’t manage to navigate a super market safely be trusted with weapons of mass destruction?
I consider saying something. I decide that what these people need is a strong leader to slap them back into line:
“You, green-shirt, stand there. Woman in red go through. Short boy pick up that old woman. Old woman pick up that peach.”
Shopping at the speed of thought would be an instant reality and all thanks to the benefits of dictatorship.
I sigh. Look longingly at 300 g of turkey steak. I just want to eat. I don’t want to rule this supermarket with an iron fist. When we submit unquestioningly to a loud voice and strong hand gestures we may find efficiency but at what cost? Our humanity?
No, for the sake of keeping our humanity we must protect that freedom and with it the freedom to fail at basic tasks such as picking up a piece of fruit or stepping once to the left. We’re nothing without our free minds… our stupid, dull, barely functioning minds.
At this point I realise that I’ve had time to think out this entire diatribe and yet people still haven’t figured out this “look where you’re going and be willing to step slightly to the side” policy. The fluctuation between acceptance and outrage begins another cycle.
I catch a glimpse in the corner of my eye; a man trying to reach the chicken. I apologise and step aside. I’d cost him a good four seconds of his life whilst I’d been blaming everyone else. Am I no better?
This is my sacrifice. This is my weekly shopping.