Cartial Blockages

I haven't been blogging a lot lately. It's because I'm in a "dark place." I'm in a "dark place," because I loathe my job. I know, I know, I'm lucky to have it.

Being in a dark place, has its upsides, though!

It makes me cranky!

And who doesn't love a good rant?!

I'd like to know something.

Does everyone who takes a shopping cart at Publix have to check one of those "I HAVE READ, AND I ACCEPT AND AGREE TO ABIDE BY THE TERMS AND CONDITIONS LISTED ABOVE BEFORE USING THIS CART" boxes, before getting a cart at Publix?

And is one of the terms and conditions that, if there is some sort of impediment blocking one of the lanes of traffic in the aisle of the grocery store, that all grocery carts presently parked in the aisle, must be parked directly adjacent to that impediment, thus blocking the entire aisle?

Seriously. I'd like to know. Because, without fail, when I'm doing my after-work-screw-you-all-I'm-starving-and-have-no-dinner grocery runs, INVARIABLY I have to move at least three carts out of the way while trying to maneuver the aisles, because, although the other 95% of the aisle has no display or parked cart, some asshole parks his or her cart directly across from a display or parked cart.

Like, what's the deal with that? Are these people retarded? Or just unforgivably inconsiderate? I wish I could profile the type who does it, but it's like EVERYONE does it! Men, women, old, young, black, white, green, everyone! (Except me. I caught myself accidentally doing it the last time I was shopping and instantly corrected my error, chastising myself.)

It's sooooooooooooooooooo exasperating having to wait while Stella stares at cans of Vienna Sausages or Neil picks out a packet of Rice-A-Roni. If Stella's and/or Neil's cart wasn't blocking the entire aisle by virtue of its position, I wouldn't be held up by their sad choice of processed foods.

And so, a while ago, I made a decision.

I decided my time was not going to be held hostage by some idiot's cart placement while they selected a bottle of Kraft salad dressing, or stooped to buy the mayonnaise made with olive oil. (Ooh! How continental!)

I move their carts for them.

Un-civilly.

I either wrench them out of my way, or sometimes I just bang them out of the way. "Oh, I broke your eggs? BOO-HOO-HOO! MOVE YOUR CART, DOUCHEBAG!"

Actually, that would get me killed, but I find that a tug n' reverse or a bump with my cart, of the impeding vehicle, or a curt "'scuse me," generally gets my point across, and moves me down the aisle. If people apologize, I find that a sarcastic, dead-eyed smile is the proper response - after all, they're not sorry.

Where I grew up, people have bumper stickers all over their cars (my parents included) that say "Choose Civility;" just one of the greenie-hippie sentiments prevalent in Howard County.

"Scruck that," I say, while I'm at Publix - I'm not in Howard County anymore, this is the M.I.A., bitches. I consider that I'm doing some sort of grocery store vigilante justice, and performing a public service, keepin' it movin'.

Civility to the uncivil is for pussies.