The ticket machine tried to fuck me.

Not in a literal sense. But there was definitely some sense of buggery going on. Allow me to explain.

I went to an office, with the intention of handing in a form. “Take a ticket” the sweet young lady said, “and then take a seat, and wait for your number to be called”.

Fixated by the beauty of the secretary, I took a ticket and lined up (which I wasn’t supposed to do…) waiting, without having glanced at my ticket. A minute later, the number 4 was called. Hmmm, I wonder what my number is?

I looked at my ticket. Why don’t you guess my number?

10?

20?

50?…

No. My number was 707.

That’s not a typo. My number was SEVEN HUNDRED AND SEVEN. Needless to say, I did not stand in line a wait. I had places to go.

I’ll pop back there in a week, and see if my number is ready to be called.