Return Your Shopping Cart and Bask in the Glow of Divine Favor
Give thanks for this opportunity.
[This blog will always be free to read, but it’s also how I pay my bills. If you have suggestions or feedback on how I can earn your paid subscription, shoot me an email: cmclymer@gmail.com. And if this is too big of a commitment, I’m always thankful for a simple cup of coffee.]
Go to any grocery store parking lot in America, and you’ll likely see an abandoned shopping cart strewn about in the concrete wilderness.
Sometimes, they’re jack-knifed on a curb. Sometimes, they’re chilling out in a parking space. Occasionally, they’re dangling lonely in the driving lane, whether by the carelessness of their previous attendant or the cruel character of basic physics.
There are people who feel angry upon observing this.
I don’t feel angry. I feel perplexed. I feel bad for the person who has abandoned said shopping cart, leaving it orphaned, adrift from its family in the queue only yards away.
That person is completely missing out on the easiest cheat code available to any adult in present-day America who struggles with the chaos and uncertainty of this era and could benefit from the satisfaction of completing this simple act.
Walking a short distance to return your shopping cart may be the greatest bang-for-your-buck return on investment you'll ever get as an upstanding citizen.
It’s way easier than making your bed. It’s only slightly more labor than washing your hands. It takes less time than the duration of an average television commercial and a tiny fraction of the journey you just spent pushing said cart around in the store.
It has wheels. It is now empty, which means it’s very light. It is now a metallic and plastic cloud which can be gently pushed home.
You are the wind pushing it home, friend.
See how it glides upon the pavement? See how it reacts to the gentlest push? It wants to go home, and it only needs minimal effort from you.
Hum your favorite tune as you stroll along. Allow your mind to briefly wander and percolate on simple and stimulating questions:
Why do dogs love us so much? What will be Beyoncé’s Act III album? What is the most delicious type of pie?
None of these require a definitive answer; they are simply the garnish on a joyful act that makes you feel just a little more like a responsible adult.
While walking, you think to yourself: It really should be criminal how good it feels to return your cart compared to the effort it takes.
You pass one or two orphaned carts on your way to the queue. Perhaps they were left there by someone for a really good reason.
They are lonely. They want to go home, too. You take all of five seconds to pop your current cart into them. No carts left behind if you have anything to say about it.
You are now about to double or triple your happiness. What a bargain. What a turn of fortune. What amazing luck. That person’s loss is now your gain.
You silently give thanks for that person providing a wonderful opportunity to feel such accomplishment for so very little effort.
You park the cart(s). They are home. They are grateful, these inanimate objects.
Please, you think, the pleasure was all mine.
You walk back to your car. Your purchased items are properly stored. Your cart has been returned.
The world may be full of chaos, but in this moment, you have found brief serenity in the tumbling sea of society.
I’m so proud of you.
Brilliant! I'd also recommend that if you've just parked and are walking towards the store, and you see someone who appears to need some extra help, or has small children, you can ask them if you can take their cart back for them. It takes about 10 seconds. I'm on the autism spectrum and I like order, so I've been know to push the carts in the corral into order when they're in disarray. It also bothers me when people can't seem to figure out that the smaller carts should go in one side and the larger carts in the other side.
Always!
My husband's best friend used to say, "What are we, heathens?" . Miss that man so much.