Obligallop

obligallop (ob-li-GAL-up), noun. The small, entirely unnecessary jog you perform when a stranger holds a door open for you from an unreasonable distance. You are walking calmly along a cobbled street, perhaps eleven metres from the door of the bakery, when the shopkeeper spots you and, generously and catastrophically, decides to hold it open. The distance is far too long to walk and far too short to run. You are now, by the unwritten laws of politeness, obliged to do something with your legs.

The word joins oblige with gallop. A fanciful story traces it to a draughty old monastery, where somebody held a heavy door for a monk carrying an unwise number of candles, but nobody has ever found that monastery, and the story is best enjoyed as a story. What is certainly true is that the word describes something almost everyone has done, usually while holding a bag, a coffee or a very full umbrella.

The defining feature of the obligallop is that it is not actually any faster than walking. The arms swing. The shoulders bounce. A bag thumps against the hip. The feet make a busy, shuffling noise on the cobbles. And yet the overall speed is almost exactly unchanged. It is not really transport at all. It is gratitude wearing running shoes, a small public performance that says, “I see your kindness, and I am hurrying, sort of, in return.”

Usage: “I obligalloped the entire length of the high street for a shopkeeper who then held the door for four more people, which rather undid the urgency.” Advanced cases involve a double obligallop, when two people hold doors for each other at opposite ends of a corridor, and a gentleman in a tweed jacket who, on a busy market morning, was once seen obligalloping from shop to shop for an entire hour, greeting everybody and buying nothing at all.

Behind the joke is a very ordinary piece of everyday courtesy. Holding a door for someone is one of the simplest kind gestures people make, and most of us feel a gentle pull to respond, whether with a smile, a thank-you or a slightly quicker step, so that the other person is not left waiting. The small awkwardness of the distance is really just two strangers trying to be considerate to each other at the same time.

So there is no cure for the obligallop, and no need for one. Somewhere today, a stranger will wait three extra seconds for you, and you will perform a slightly silly little run to thank them, and you will both pretend it was necessary. If you are the one holding the door, feel free to smile and let them walk. And if you are the one doing the jog, enjoy it. It is one of the kinder pointless things people do for each other.