I RECKON life is all about people. They have the power to make your day or drive you down into the depths of depression or screaming in rage.

And I don't mean just those who are close to you - it's anyone you encounter in your daily business.

The everyday chore of parking your car, for instance. You must have driven round and round a supermarket car park and after sitting eyeing a potential vacancy for what seems like hours, you are just about to drive in and some pig - usually a harassed mum with three yelling children - races in ahead of you and will not back down.

What a contrast with the kind motorist who not only exits a parking bay to make sure you get in, but then hands you his unexpired ticket saying "It's got another two hours on it, mate."

Most English people will not put up a fight when they are pipped to "their" spot. Sometimes they get out and remonstrate, but more often than not they don't want to cause a scene, so the queue jumper gets away with it.

A little while ago in the United States, a little old lady was about to reverse carefully into a vacant space when a car containing four men raced in and beat her to it. They got out of the car laughing - she got a pistol from the glove compartment and shot them all dead.

Once you are inside the supermarket, still fuming from a parking episode, it's every man for himself with the crazy dodgem-cars experience of manoeuvring a trolley. Many observe the rules of the road down the crowded aisles but some are intent on causing a pile-up of M25 proportions. You can leave the place cut and bruised by careless trolley drivers more intent on bagging a bargain and getting out of there at breakneck speed than observing the aisle-way code.

Shopping is a hit and miss experience at the best of times. If you get a pleasant assistant, you can come out of the store feeling all is well with the world.

Shop assistants fall into two categories, depending which training school they went to. One is the Attila The Hun School Of Customer Care, where the customer is the enemy to be slashed in the jugular before they've even tapped in their pin number. Before they can graduate and earn the right to wear the uniform, the trainee assistants have to complete an obstacle course where they are given a razor sharp sword and have to lop off the turnip heads of as many customer scarecrows as they can. The winners are ceremonially awarded a badge of aggression which they wear with pride.

The other school is The Customer Is King Academy, where students in their sleep have to rehearse the mantra "Good morning, sir. How can I help you? Please, thank you, nothing is too much trouble, my face is aching with this smile but have a nice day."

It must be something to do with the hectic pace of life that has us constantly seething to bursting point with rage, but people are so quick to complain these days. And yet they rarely have the time to say thank you or well done.

We all like our egos massaged occasionally - well, regularly actually.

If your boss bawls you out for a mistake, you can take it if he or she also congratulates you for a job well done. Too often this simple pat on the back is forgotten in the rush to move on to the next job, yet it can make a happier workforce and increase efficiency.

I imagine - I have to - it is a nice, rosy glow of a feeling when a boss says "Thank you. Good work, Hearld."

So anyway, back to the supermarket. You've survived the jousting tournament in the aisles, you've spent the last few years left to you because you chose the wrong queue, you've only withered a little under the glare of the check-out person, and you get back to your car.

That's when you notice someone has clipped your bumper on the way out, or some overweight hulk has put a dent in your door struggling to get into their vehicle. Do they have these problems on the moon?

Updated: 09:01 Tuesday, October 18, 2005