MEN ARE FROM MARS. GOD KNOWS WHERE WOMEN ARE FROM.

I know that in the caring, sharing noughties we’re all supposed to be equal but let’s face it, we’re not. And nowhere is this shown more sharply than in the difference between the sexes.

Two incidents over lunch have just driven this home.

First I popped into the local Wellcome for a few staples. I did my usual sprint round the aisles, grabbed what I needed (nothing more, nothing less) dodged the aimlessly wandering females and headed to the check-out. Now when a man gets close to the front of the check-out queue he is generally aware that at some point in the near future he is likely to be required to pay for something, so there I am, second in line, with my wallet in my hand, my debit/EPS card already poking out the top for easy access, and what cash I have easily to hand ready to make the payment expected of me (I have to have both out because obviously I have no idea how much things cost. I never ever look. I buy something because I need it. Within reason the cost is irrelevant. In this I believe I am like all men.). So there I am . Ready to pay and get out of the shop and out of everyone’s way as quickly as possible

In front of me is a woman. She has a basket overloaded with goodies. While this woman stares into the air with a detached look on her face. The woman behind the check-out is using her beeping scanner thing (stop me if I’m getting too technical) to check all the items through and then at the end, inevitably, says something along the lines of “that’ll be HK$500 please”. We then have a scene I have seen a thousand times. The woman looks surprised, then confused, then perplexed. Then she grabs at her handbag and starts ferreting around inside. Finally she locates her purse. Then she can’t get it open. Finally she remembers the calsp that has been there for the whole 10 years she’s owned it and abracadabra. Then she asks how much the bill was, because she has the memory of a goldfish. Then she counts her cash. Not enough. Inevitably. Go for the card you might think? No. She asks again. Perhaps the amount required has been magically reduced? Sadly not. Perhaps she does have enough cash after all. She counts it again. No. None of it has reproduced in the last few seconds and she’s still short (of cash I mean). So what’s next? A card obviously. But which card? There are millions in there. I have four and one of those I only carry because it’s a work card. The decision takes hours. Then there is the signing, the checking of the receipt. The sudden realization she has to now remove the items she has bought from the counter so the next person, i.e. me, can get to it. What a fiasco.

I have seen this happen all over the world and every time the person messing about is a woman. It has never, ever, been a man., anywhere, ever. Why? How? Women do most of the shopping on this planet so you’d think they would have things fairly organized when it comes to paying, but apparently not. Men however can be in and out of a shop in seconds, including having paid.

My next stop was then the bank. After doing my business there, so to speak, I thought I’d stock up on cash for the weekend so I join the ATM queue. The person in front of me is a woman. Her we go again I thought, and we did. She gets to the machine. Open bag, find purse, open purse, find card, find bit of paper with PIN number on it, glance suspiciously over shoulder at curiously red-faced gweilo male who is muttering to himself and waving a carton of milk in a threatening manner, put card into machine and enter PIN number (hand and bag covering keypad during this operation despite the little piece of paper with the number on it being clearly visible – 7631 for those that care (Citibank ATM’s only use 4 digits) – and then finally we’re under way. This part is pretty quick. Money? Yes. Amount? $XXX. Want anything else? No. Excellent. Card comes out. Money comes out.

At this point a man would simply stick both in his pocket and walk away and sort it out later, or at a pinch have his wallet already in his hand and open and put the various components in their respective compartments in a matter of nano-seconds and walk away.

But not a woman. Oh no. That would be far too easy. For some reason this woman has put her purse back into her bag. This means she now has to open the bag, find the purse, remove the purse, open the purse, find the right compartment and put the card and money into the right spots. Of course she can only do this right in front of the machine so that no-one else can get close to it. If only she knew how close she was to being maimed and crippled for life by a gweilo armed only with a pint of milk and a loaf of bread.

COME ON LADIES. IT'S NOT THAT DIFFICULT TO THINK AHEAD A LITTLE. SHOPPING REQUIRES PAYMENT. CASHPOINTS REQUIRE PURSES/WALLETS. THINK ABOUT IT.