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Conformity (and Pink Pancakes)

Is it just me and my slightly rebellious spirit - or are there are a lot of illogical rules 'out there' that people seem to follow mindlessly like conforming robots.

For example:

The basket-only checkouts at supermarkets state that you have to have less than 15 items. So why, when I had 12 items was I asked to move to a different queue because I had chosen to use a trolley and not a basket? Could the weasly wrinked woman not figure out that it is quite tricky to seat a 20 month old in a basket? Of course I argued my case - but she just made a strange gutteral noise and nodded towards the words 'baskets only'.

Or for instance, public toilets. This probably won't make any sense to men - but us women frequently have to queue for a wee. I find it very odd that we will all queue politely, looking at the floor to avoid eye contact or the pressure of having to make polite conversation - when there is perfectly good vacant disabled loo to use. Now I know the activists among you are going to shout me down - but most women take about 20 seconds to do a wee and about 45 seconds to do anything more and that includes wiping. I figure the chances of someone needing to use it in that 45 seconds is slim. But yet when I do the obvious thing and use the vacant disabled loo I hear gasps and mutterings from those waiting in the other queue. I figure that at least I have given them something to talk about.

Or when the annoying sales cold call comes just when you are about to have tea or put the kids to bed. In my experience most people either avoid picking up the phone if they don't recognise the caller ID or they very politely and apologetically explain why they don't want the product or service on offer. I have a different approach. I pass the phone to my toddler who then proceeds to talk 'baby talk' down the phone. Just as I can hear the caller getting slightly confused I tickle my toddler. I figure that the job of cold-calling must be pretty mundane and if I can cheer their evening up, what better way than to listen to a toddler giggling down the phone.

I don't really do conformity for conformity's sake - and I'm sure the psychologists among you will tell me that it stems from some deep-rooted issue from my childhood. Maybe all those pink and blue pancakes damaged my cerebral cortex, or maybe I climbed too many trees which put strain on the nerves to my spine. Maybe it has something to do with being a redhead or just maybe I have learnt that life has a little more spice when you question the status quo and are not afraid to be yourself.

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