No More Mrs Nice Stepford

We went to the grocery store on Monday. We used to go every Thursday because that is when the new sales start and when the pet store gets their delivery of crickets, but recently I have been trying to cut back on our spending at the store and the first step to that is to visit less often. I can go once a month and spend $300 or I can go every week and spend $100. I am really not sure how this happens other than impulse buys and non-essential purchases. Dave Ramsey would be so disappointed with my lack of self control.

Anyways, it was a bright sunny day when we pulled into Aldi parking lot. Not wanting to juggle all the bags and diaper bag and baby and such, I left the bags in the car.

*Side note* if you don’t shop at Aldi, number one, you should, but number two, they do not supply bags like other stores do. This is a way that they cut costs and are able to lower their prices. You either bring reusable bags or steal boxes off the shelf. I have a very nice collection of bags that I have hoarded over the past few years.

I always hate bagging all my groceries in the store where everyone is staring at me and there is grid lock from people trying to bag and people trying to check out and people trying to leave. It is just silly. I never used to bag in the store until Little Darling came along and it was winter and it just seemed cruel to keep a one month old sitting in the cart while I bagged the groceries in my trunk. However, it is summer, and she is almost 9 months old, so I decided it would be fine to leave the bags and bag in the trunk when we got done.

We entered the store and went about our shopping.

It was pouring rain when we walked out of Aldi. Not like a light drizzle that you can just walk briskly to your car, this was a torrential downpour complete with thunder and bolts of lightning. Awesome.

Thankfully, I keep LD’s hat and hoodie in the diaper bag so I hastily shoved them on her and we made a break for the car. Thank Jesus for automatic locks, I yanked the door open and stuffed her into her car seat promising to only be a minute while I rammed groceries into random bags. My frozen chicken was hanging out in a bag with my canned corn and my pretzels somehow got stuck into the insulated cold bag. I didn’t care, I was getting soaked and all we had to do was make it to Walmart and back home. As I got the last of the groceries stashed safely in the trunk and slammed it shut, I was also slammed with the horrible realization that I had to somehow get the cart back to the front of the store

*Side note* At Aldi they do not have cart returns or cart pushers or cart attendants or anything that involves an employee dealing with carts. Their carts have a coin slot in them and you have to put a quarter in to get a cart, when you are done shopping and return your cart to the corral, you get your quarter back.

It may not seem like a huge deal to just leave the cart in the parking lot and lose a quarter, but I felt bad, there is a huge sign asking you not to leave carts in the parking lot. I never abandon my cart, its not a responsible thing to do. I didn’t want to walk away from the car to put it away either because Little Darling was happily playing in her car seat. What if someone stole the car? What if someone kidnapped me and she was left sitting the car? The possibilities are really endless, although not real probable.

I was saved from making a decision though because a very nice luxury sedan pulled into a spot just a few spaces away from me. I could see a well dressed business man in the drivers seat getting his things together to exit the vehicle. As soon as he opened his door and stepped out I yelled through the rain.

“excuse me?! Do you need a cart!?” *insert desperate smile*

“oh, no thanks I don’t need one” *pauses and looks at me, drenched, with my Baby on Board sign on my car and smiling wildly* “But I can take yours back if you’d like me to”

I was so happy! Here was this good samaritan, helping me out when he wasn’t going to gain anything, except a quarter, he would get my quarter. But still, I happily pushed my cart over to him gushing my thank yous and blathering about the baby in the back seat and the rain. As I got to his car and handed over my cart, the scene changed.

Out of nowhere, this large fat greasy man who had been loading groceries into the back of his beater van saunters over. He shoves his cart in the general direction of my good samaritan and says:

“well, if yer taking hers, ya might as well take mine too”

He actually walked further away from the store, and a longer distance, to give the cart to Mr. Nice Guy than he would have if he had just turned around and walked his fat ass to the cart corral and turned in his own cart. I was livid. Here was this fat guy taking advantage of my nice guy! I had an excuse, I am a mother with a small child in the vehicle and it is raining. You are fat and lazy and don’t want to waste your precious calories walking to return your own cart.

Nice Guy was obviously just as shocked as I was because he stood utterly speechless for a good 30 seconds while Fat Guys cart rolled forward and banged into his legs. His hands were still firmly clasped on the handle of my cart and I could see the twitching begin in his eyes.

What he wanted to do was turn around and tell Fat Guy to eff off and go return his own cart, its the least he can do since Nice Guy, who obviously has a job, is probably paying taxes to take care of Fat guy with his handicapped parking sticker and his dirty wife beater shirt. But that’s not nice, that’s not polite. That’s not politically correct. So, Nice Guy bends over and takes it and tells Fat Guy that yes, sure he will return his cart for him. I thanked Nice Guy again and quickly muttered an apology as I walked away, but I could already see it in his face. Nice Guy will probably never offer to help a poor drenched mom in the parking lot again, because it just opens him up to be taken advantage of. Pretty soon he would be carrying a reflective vest in his trunk and using his lunch break to run everybody’s carts back to the cart corral, because GOD FORBID someone walk their own lazy ass back to the store to put their cart back.

Now I know what you are going to say, how do I know that Fat Guy doesn’t have a medical condition? How do I know that Fat Guy doesn’t have a job and is just enjoying his day off? Try this one on for size- I don’t care. I am sick of giving everyone the benefit of the doubt while they continue to suck off the government (in turn, sucking off the good American people who work for a living). I have lived in this area long enough to know that the vast majority of people are unemployed and not even pretending to look for work. It is a badge of honor around here to tell how you don’t work and get away with it. So, no, I don’t care. And if it happens again, I may just say something. I am at my breaking point with people who mooch off the government and expect the rest of us to take care of them, acting as though they are not only better than me, but they are entitled to better things than me because they are wily enough to beat the system. I am constantly standing in line with my cart full of generic brands and bare minimums while the dirty greasy and morbidly obese people in front of me stand with their iPhones and perfect manicures loading their name brand junk food onto the belt with their prime rib and redbull, handing over their EBT card when the cashier reads the total. When did it become that those who contribute to society live on bread and water while those who contribute nothing live like kings? It seems a little backwards. Where is the incentive to go get a job? Where is the incentive to be independent and take care of yourself? Oh, whats that? There isn’t any? Yea, I thought so.

No more Mrs. Nice Stepford, I am sick of being politically correct.

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