Below the counter service

I went to make a payment at the City of Cape Town today, and was told to go to the correct cashier cubicle. I arrived and there was no-one, so I stood in the (obviously wrong) line, hoping someone else can help me. Suddenly, as if by magick or teleportation the cashier appeared where I was just a minute ago. From under the counter. With cellphone in hand. She was chatting away happily, as if the previous night's Internet blind date wasn't the 10th psycho in a row after all.

I made it to the front of the wrong line though, so I wanted to pay.
"You have to pay at the next counter."
"I know, I know, but did you see that? Did you see that?" was what I wanted to say.

I ambled back over, made eye contact, slipped my slip under the glass and there she went again. Under the counter.

Thank goodness an overwhelming sense of calmness crashed down on me from nowhere, effectively rendering what I wanted to say into "hmmm," so I proceeded to fill out my cheque. The moment she popped up, I asked: "To whom should I make it out?"

Bad move.

She turned her back on me and continued chatting. I had enough time to let the calmness infuse me once more, my hands might have been reaching to the heavens briefly, so instead of tapping on the window and shouting insanely, I took out my own cellphone and took a picture of her conversation, which was really going well, I must add.

And that's that. Eventually her conversation ended, I paid, and I left. Amazing, really. Both of us.