IF the chance of getting it right is 50-50 it should happen half of the time. Instead, in these incidences it seems the odds are always against you:
Last time you opened the top, you’re pretty sure, and had to battle through the bloody leaflet. So this time, older, wiser and hungover yet again, you open the other end and once again the leaflet’s there blocking you from relief. Either it’s a design of anticipatory evil genius countering you at every turn or witchcraft.
Inserting a USB
How can a 50-50 choice take three attempts? Try it one way up, won’t fit. Turn it around, confident, and same f**king problem. Turns out you were right the first time, so why didn’t it fit first time? How can such a simple piece of technology beat you repeatedly?
A light blows? No problem, you’re an adult with a drawer full of spares, but you bring one back and it’s a bayonet fitting and the socket’s a screw-in. Fine, shit happens, you go and buy more bulbs. The next bulb that goes is a screw-in but all your bulbs are bayonets? Are they morphing while your back’s turned?
One cord opens them. The other closes them. It should be easy to remember given you do it every day, but your brain seems incapable of retaining the information. So every morning you swipe everything off the kitchen windowsill trying to open it, and every evening you get the f**ker jammed at the top instead of shutting it. This is why people have curtains.
The easiest way of branding yourself an idiot in a public space, you approach this challenge to your intelligence and immediately begin second-guessing. Pull? Or push? No matter which it is you’ll make the wrong choice and yes, there are people behind you, and yes they will step in to help and open it effortlessly while you feel as small as Rishi Sunak.
Passing a stranger
You’re headed towards each other on a narrow path. One of you must yield. Being British, you’re each eager to show how accommodating you are so you step left as they do then step right as they do and now you’re performing the exotic dance of mating birds right there in the street. The only comfort is the other person entirely blames themselves.