I'm not a forward planning kind of a guy.
Most events see me arriving monumentally unprepared for whatever it is I have had several hours/days/weeks/months to prepare for. Luckily for me I have a very positive outlook. Consequently my view of the resulting experience is usually along the lines of "well, given that I did fuck-all to prepare for that, it seemed to go OK".
But even I know that if you're standing in a queue, in a canteen, with a sandwich in your hand there is a pretty high likelihood that the lady sitting at the head of the queue behind the till-shaped object is going to be asking me for some money in the immediate future.
Apparently, the lady from marketing with the dubious taste in blouses and the cheese and pickle baguette is not equipped with this blindingly obvious snippet of information and is genuinely surprised when asked for £2.50.
She is also unaware of the location of her purse in the bag slung over her shoulder that clearly warps space-time to a degree that makes the tardis look like a £149 shed from B&Q, judging from the amount of time it takes to locate it.
If only it'd extend the temporal distortions out a few feet so that I could get my 10 minutes of lunchtime back.