Thursday, January 26, 2006

Shopping cart incident.

I'll make no secret of it: I do not return shopping carts to the cart-yard when I am done shopping. I've always said that leaving the carts out on the lot equals job security for the poor lowest-rung dolts who work for the store. However, I have no problem with letting someone who is just about to *enter* the store take my cart once I have unloaded my groceries. I'm done with it — what do I care? This coincidence is so rare that it can hardly cost any lot-dolt his job.

Today, however, made me reconsider my likelihood of handing off a recently-unladen cart. There I was, closing the trunk of my car, when an older gentleman with a white beard asked if I was done with it. I communicated a very unmisinterpretable "She's all yours," and he nodded and took the thing away. I got into the car and thought very little of the transaction.

While I was readying the controls for driving, I noticed the man walk up to the entrance of the store. He pushed the cart into the cart-yard, walked into the store, and picked up a hand-basket.

I shoved my keys back into my pocket and strode directly into the store. How DARE he. I found him around the gourmet packaged snacks area and made no disguise of my anger. "How DARE you insinuate that I am too lazy to return the cart to its proper area!" I said. "How DARE you carry out such an insult right before me!"

He played the chicken and tried to back away from me, upsetting a small display of breadsticks and cheese. I saw my chance and pounced.

Thinking quickly, I pulled a cold salami out of a refrigerated deli display and shoved it down the front of his pants. "I hope it's expensive, because you can't return salami you put in your PANTS!" I yelled. With that, I quickly strode out the door and sped off for home. I hate getting tangled up with idiots and the way they solve unusual problems. So much standing around.