It’s always the same. You sit patiently under the glass, with a little tag beside you, and lights shining on you, and you wait. Then one day, a nervous looking man or woman scans over all of us, focusing mostly on the little tag with the numbers on. The lady with gloves on takes you out, and you’re analysed, then you’re put back. If you’re lucky enough, there’s a nod, and a credit card is passed o...