The Sensible
Citizens' Lobby
I drove into the car park
of the superstore and noticed one remaining
parking space. The letters SCL where painted on
the tarmac - initials with which I was unfamiliar.
I nevertheless parked in the bay.
A staff member in a
florescent jacket approached my driver’s
window. ‘Hello Sir’, he said, ‘can
I ask why you’re shopping here this evening?’
‘Well,’ I replied,
‘it’s six PM on Christmas Eve, and so I
thought it was about time to buy some cards and
presents and food for Christmas.’
‘In that case, Sir,’
he responded, ‘I’m afraid you
can’t park in this space.’
‘Why not?’
He pointed to the sign in
front of the space. It read Sensible Citizens
Only. I looked puzzled.
‘There’s been a
recent change in the law,’ he explained,
‘brought about by the actions of a pressure
group called the Sensible Citizens' Lobby or SCL.’
‘Who are they?’ I
asked.
‘The SCL is made up of
all those organised people who plan well in
advance to avoid last minute panics.’ He
looked furtively around and then whispered
conspiratorially, ‘The Smug, Condescending
Lot, we call them. Typically, for Christmas, they
will have bought all the things they need, or
ordered them on the Internet, by the end of
October.’
‘My Aunt Elsie’s
like that,’ I said. ‘I always receive
her Christmas card on 1st December.’
‘Exactly,’ my
informant concurred. ‘The SCL argued that,
despite advance planning, there would always be
items that they unavoidably needed to purchase
from shops at periods of peak business, and that
it was totally unfair that they should have to
waste their time queuing with morons like us who
gave no thought to turning up, like sheep, at the
busiest times.’
‘So the SCL get
priority for car parking?’
‘More than that,’
he replied. ‘Because they were so organised
and had so much free time to campaign, the new
law contains numerous special rights for them.
For example, Store Security moves other shoppers
out of the way for them, and they get served at
special, high priority checkouts.’
I glanced at my watch.
There was no time to learn more, so I accepted my
banning from the parking bay and spent the next
half-hour looking for another parking space. I
then battled my way into the crowded store and
commenced a three hour shopping expedition. It
would have been quicker but Store Security kept
roping-off aisles to allow members of the SCL to
quietly shop, undisturbed.
As I stood in an hour-long
check-out queue, I noted the almost empty SCL
checkouts and a few relaxed and unhurried member
of the SCL passing through them.
I had no time to think
further about the SCL during Christmas and New
Year as there were so many last minute jobs to do.
I was so exhausted by the first week in January
that I was ill for a week. When I finally
recovered, my Christmas shopping experience came
back to mind.
I Googled the SCL and
discovered that their privileges extended beyond
shopping. For example, SCL members would
naturally organise their daily activities to
avoid travelling during rush hours. Should they
be compelled, due to some unusual circumstance,
to travel at such times then they were able to
use bus lanes or drive on pavements to avoid
association with the mindless, habitual occupants
of traffic-jams. In addition, they were provided
with exclusive seats on public transport. I now
remembered the signs on busses which instructed
commuters to give up their seats if needed by the
disabled or members of the SCL.
At first I was furious that
these smug, arrogant advance planners could have
priority over the rest of us. Then I began to
examine my own behaviour. Why did I manufacture
Hell for myself with last minute shopping for
Christmas and other events? Why did I spend an
hour and a half commuting to and from work when I
could do the journey in twenty minutes if I left
suitably earlier or later?
I bought a year planner and
completed it with the timely activities required
to prepare for the year’s predictable events.
Shopping for next Christmas was substantially
complete by the end of March.
Furthermore, I was able to
use the planner and my early Christmas shopping
receipts as evidence to support my application to
join the SCL.
Christmas Eve arrived once
more. My phone rang at five PM. It was Aunt Elsie
with whom I would be spending Christmas Day. She
explained that Great Uncle Walter had
unexpectedly arrived from Australia and would be
joining us for Christmas dinner. I noted that I
had no present for him.
Ten minutes later, I drove
into the car park of the superstore and parked in
an SCL bay.
A staff member in a
florescent jacket approached my driver’s
window. ‘Hello Sir’, he said, ‘can
I ask why you’re shopping here this evening?’
I explained my unexpected
necessity to get a Christmas present for Great
Uncle Walter and showed the young man my SCL
membership card. ‘I thought I’d get him
a case of reasonably priced claret,’ I said.
‘No problem, Sir,’
said the willing attendant. ‘You just wait
here, and I’ll run and get it for you.’
He returned within five
minutes with Walter’s gift.
Whilst he was away, I had
watched the crowds of shoppers struggling to push
laden trolleys back to their cars through the
snow.
‘Why do they do it?’
I thought to myself as I drove from the
superstore entrance into the bus lane for my five
minute journey home.
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