If you choose from 3 lines, 2 will be faster than you. The mysterious fate at the checkout counter where 'defeat' is guaranteed the moment you join a line

A little test of luck after finishing your shopping at the supermarket.
That moment when you look at the several checkout lines and secretly try to figure out, "Which line will be the fastest..."

"Alright, this one looks (I feel like) less crowded!"

Even though you thought that when you joined, you suddenly look to the side and see the line next to you, which you joined after, moving along smoothly.

In your own line, the person in front might be desperately searching for a coupon, the register might suddenly run out of paper, or for some reason, a slow process of counting coins begins...

"Could it be that the checkout gods hate me?"
"Why is it that whenever I choose a line, it always comes to a dead stop?"

Hasn't everyone had the experience of sighing to themselves like that?

Today, I would like to talk about what I've researched on my own regarding this slightly sad and mysterious daily puzzle of "why the line next to me always moves faster."

The slightly sad fact that "if there are 3 lines, 2 will be faster than you"

Actually, this phenomenon of "the next line looking faster" isn't just because I'm particularly clumsy; there was a "rule of numbers" hidden behind it.

For example, let's assume there are three checkout lines.

When you choose one of them, statistically speaking, what is the probability that your line is the "fastest"?

By calculation, it is only "33.3%".

On the other hand, the probability that "either of the other lines (the two next to you) is faster" is the remaining "66.6%".

In other words, the moment we join a line, we are destined to witness "someone moving along more smoothly than us" with a high probability of two-thirds.

The more checkout lines there are, the stricter this probability becomes.

In a large supermarket with 10 lines, the probability that you are the fastest is only 10%.

For the remaining 90%, you will be watching "the person next to you passing you by."

They say "the grass is always greener on the other side," but regarding checkout lines, the reality is that even mathematically, "the probability of the next line being faster is much higher."

When I learned this, I felt a bit of a weight lifted off my shoulders, thinking, "Well, that's why the next line looks faster, isn't it?"

The "slightly unfair habit" of memory that the brain plays on us

But I also think, "There must be times when my line is the fastest, right?"

Admittedly, there are times when you join the most efficient line and finish checking out in a flash.

However, another 'mystery' gets in the way here.

That is a 'quirk of our brain'.

When checkout goes smoothly, rather than feeling happy and thinking, 'Yes, that was the fastest!', we are usually thinking about something else, like 'Maybe I'll go to that shop next,' and we leave the store without really being conscious of that 'speed'.

In other words, time spent without any trouble doesn't really remain in our memory.

On the other hand, when the line stops.

The impatience and stress of thinking, 'Oh, I need to get home quickly!' leaves a strong impression on the brain.

As a result, only the unpleasant memory of 'I waited but it didn't move at all' is clearly stored.

In reality, there must have been days when the checkout wait ended surprisingly quickly.

Yet, our brains can't forget the times we were slightly 'at a disadvantage,' and we may have convinced ourselves that 'I always have bad luck'.

Waiting in line is 'time for a deep breath'

Up to this point, I have talked about numbers and how the brain works.

'I understand the logic, but being made to wait is still a bit tough,' is the honest truth, isn't it?

However, lately, I have been trying to think about it this way.

Leaving the supermarket, rushing home to cook dinner, cleaning up...

Adult life is full of things to do.

Thinking of it that way, those 'motionless few minutes' at the checkout counter could be called 'an official break time where no one scolds you and you don't have to do anything'.

That time when the person in front of you is slowly taking out their wallet.

Instead of getting frustrated and thinking, 'Hurry up,' try taking a break and just zoning out.

Thinking things like, 'That person is carrying heavy bags for their family, good work,' or 'The cashier is busy but they are so polite and cool.'

In that way, you can turn 'time spent waiting' into 'warm time spent observing those around you'.

Recently, I have been intentionally trying to join the 'more relaxed-looking line'.

When I decide to join a line thinking, 'I'll take five minutes to rest my mind here today,' strangely enough, even when I see the line next to me moving faster, I've become able to see them off with a kind heart, thinking, 'They must be in a hurry, please go ahead.'

A small, quiet 'time for myself' called waiting in line.

When you think of it that way, doesn't that time you used to spend feeling frustrated start to feel a little bit like a precious 'break time'?

A small five minutes for yourself

Tomorrow, when you find yourself disappointed at the supermarket checkout again, thinking, 'I should have chosen the other one...', please, try to laugh and forgive yourself for that.

That is just you following the laws of probability, and it is also proof that you worked hard all day today and used your brain until you were exhausted.

While smiling bitterly and thinking, 'The grass was greener on the other side again,' you wait for your turn with your basket. Perhaps those few minutes of clumsy, peaceful waiting that happen everywhere are actually quite luxurious and happy moments.

Now, the register is open.

May your walk home today feel just a little bit more pleasant than usual.

▼ For those who want to observe a bit more 'wonder'

The frustration of waiting in line and the despair of resetting a password. A prescription for the heart to laugh off the absurdities of the digital society.

On a morning when you fail at choosing a checkout line, you might also be betrayed by the 'tupperware lid' in your kitchen. It is a comedy invited by a 1mm misalignment.