Queuing

I like to think that the Swiss admire the English in many regards. Wishful thinking, you might say, but in one respect, we stand head and shoulders above the rest. Queuing. Very drole, you might think, but true. “You’re English. You like queuing.” No. There is a misunderstanding here. We don’t like queuing. We are just good at it.

The Swiss, by contrast, don’t really like queuing at all. I am on very dodgy territory here, handing out potential insults to my hosts, but it is my observation that in a queue, one minute a person is behind you and the next minute, without any fuss or jostling, they are in front of you. Nothing physical, you understand. Just the knack of spotting the moment. A sort of friendly competition.

Queuing at the ski-lift brings out the same sort of qualities. The English glare has no effect here, so it is necessary to remain vigilant, alert, and with elbows pointing outwards.

Ed, my son, as an experienced economist is obsessed about efficiency. He has made some professional observations on this.

Here is a picture of him being obsessive and making professional observations.

He contrasts this with other types of socially competitive activities – sorry, if this is getting a bit technical. He pointed out, as we stuck our poles out sideways, to stop a flanking movement at a ski chair lift, that in these scenarios, one person’s gain is another person’s loss. “DO YOU ACTUALLY TEACH YOUR KIDS TO SNEAK THROUGH LIKE THAT?”

Ed compared it with the behaviour of motorists at road works on motorways. Motorists see the sign that says that the motorway will narrow to one lane in one mile. 90% will immediately move over to the appropriate lane and the other 10% will scream down the outside and sneak in at the end. “WELL, IF YOU HAD BROUGHT THE LITTLE BRAT UP PROPERLY, I WOULDN’T HAVE NEEDED TO PULL HIM BACK BY HIS COLLAR.”

Of that 10%, half will feel a little bit guilty, and the other half will think that the rest of us (Did I really include myself in this?) are just dumb. If we all went to the end of the lanes, and then pulled in, we could all be happy. It would also avoid those ridiculous occasions when there is actually no lane closure, the construction company having failed to remove the sign, and we all sit in a queue for 30 minutes, before realising that it is the equivalent of a road repair April Fool’s joke. Ed says that this is to do with Zero Sum Games. “CAREFUL ED, SKIER IN THE RED IS PLAYING THE ZERO SUM GAME AND IS ABOUT TO TAKE THE OUTSIDE SEAT.”

Ed points out that there is a difference between these examples and fighting for a place at lunchtime at the Parsenhutte Self Service Restaurant on the Davos ski slopes. Here, the strategy is to find the places, reserve them with your ski helmets or gloves and then spend 20 minutes queuing for your food, before taking your seats. A quick survey of the tables shows that one third of the places are taken by people eating, one-third by people, who have finished, and are talking, playing cards, reading a book, or just dozing. The other third, (you’ve guessed it) are occupied by Ski-helmets, or gloves, which are neither eating, reading, talking, nor playing cards. They could, just about, be said to be dozing.

Ed says that in economic speak, this is a wasted resource. You know that line. “If all those people waited until they had their food before sitting down, there would be more space for everyone.” Everyone knows it, but everyone has to follow the obvious rule. It’s a mug’s game to be the only person who doesn’t grab the table while it is there. He says that this is the "Prisoner’s Dilemma", which is a technical expression. “OK ED. I’LL WAIT HERE, WHILE YOU GET THE FOOD – AND WATCH OUT FOR THE LADY IN THE PURPLE SKI SUIT.” (The lady in the purple ski suit could have had her own blog entry – suffice to say, she did not like queuing, was in a dilemma and therefore should go to prison).