Tickets to a concert, a dinner buffet, collecting food stamps. These are things people don't generally mind standing in line for. Paying taxes? Not so much.

At the Revenue Services Centre, along the Mandela Highway in St Catherine, the doors are about to open for the day and there's already a bunch of agitated people standing outside. Among them is a man I heard someone call Tank.

Now, Tank has the kind of face you expect to see on Wanted posters at your local post office. He seemed close to 300 pounds and his hair was pointing skyward. His scar-riddled face displayed annoyance and he wore earrings in both ears.

Tussle of words

Tank sported a nifty pair of short pants and sandals and was holding a brown envelope while leaning on the glass door of the building.

"Cho b#@!! Look how long mi deh yah inna di sun hot! Open di door, man!" shouted Tank.

This, even as the doors were being opened. The crowd that had gathered outside stormed the entrance and rushed inside, each person wanting to get to the head of the line. There was something of a tussle between Tank and a woman called Marva, whose chest had been plastered with baby powder and whose nose had more rings than her ears.

"Hey knock-knee gyal! Yuh come yah come see mi. Go tan up round a back!" Tank said.

I froze, and so did the people around me, because by the looks of him, Tank was not someone you wanted to get into an argument with.

Marva however, had no such reservation.

"Knock-knee like yuh Muma! When yuh come yah mi already deh yah long time!" she yelled back with equal feistiness.

This preceded a heated furore between the two that only subsided when a burly and alarmingly hairy woman intervened. She had on a police uniform and this seemed to affect Tank personally.

He offered Marva the front space in line and even started whispering sweet nothings in her ear while the cashiers started getting themselves together.

Line no shorter

Meanwhile, more people started showing up and the line almost reached back to the front door.

"Everyday dis place pack up! Ah wah di government really ah do wid di whole a di money weh dem a collect?" shouted Winston, a 39-year-old shop owner, as he walked in.

Ding! The little light flashed at the counter and people started moving up in line. The trouble though, was that people kept coming, so the line didn't seem to be getting any shorter.

In walked Walker, a self-employed cabinet maker. He was still peeved at having to return to the tax office. Apparently, he had showed up the day before without the proper paperwork.

I heard him mumbling to himself in line behind me, so I turned to ask him what was the matter.

"Dem people yah man! Dem just ah harass man so. Come tell man bout mi owe dem money. How dem know how much money mi ah meck? Dem just waan teck weh di likkle hustling so," he lamented.

Ding! The little light flashed again and everyone in line shuffled forward.

Walker continued. "Dem seh mi never did ah mek no payment. After mi never know seh mi suppose fi do dem ting deh! Cho, star," he said.

Scent problems

Now, Walker went on to say a number of other things, but truth be told, I heard very little. You see, the stress seemed to have caused poor Walker to neglect certain hygiene-related responsibilities, so it wasn't easy getting close to him.

Plus, he was a soft speaker. I quickly made up an excuse and turned back around.

Just my luck though, the woman ahead of me smelled like papayas and was fanning herself most forcefully with a handkerchief, This only sent the scent to me faster. She was speaking quite loudly on her cell phone.

"Deloris! Look from when mi ah call yuh! Mi see Marlon last night outa lane. Marlon, man! Patsy one time man. Yes! Him same one. Yuh waan si him too, look big and nice," she said, smiling. By now, almost everyone in line was looking at her, but she didn't seem bothered by this at all.

"No man, she and him left long time. Mi give him mi number. Who? No man, nobody naw goh tell har," the woman continued.

Behind me, someone spoke out.

"How di line nah move? Government waan collect wi money and we still haffi wait! Ah wah so?" the man shouted. Several people in line nodded in agreement.

By then I realised that I would not have been able to get through in the time that I had budgeted, so I decided to leave and return the next day.

As I walked out, I heard someone mutter something about me being crazy if I thought I would return to my space in line.

robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com

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