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| Shopping Carts |
| 11.07.07 (7:52 am) [edit] |
I don’t ask for much in life…the little things keep me happy. Like not needing a blowtorch and a pair of Vice Grips just to remove the protective seal from the new coffee creamer container in the morning. Or not being the second person in the "12 items or less" line, stuck behind some old lady who has a coupon "somewhere" for every stinking one of her 21 items. Yeah. Small things make me smile. Equally small things can, unfortunately, make me postal. Take shopping carts for example. I test drive shopping carts. Whenever I hit Home Depot, Lowe's, WalMart…any store where I need a cart…I first take my cart for a short spin. In fact, before I even pick a cart I have usually already started scanning shoppers who are leaving. I check out how their cart handles, whether it has a wobble, a pull, or one of those damned interminable squeaks. If the cart looks good, I make a beeline for the person just so I can get first dibs. Of course timing is critical. If I move in too soon it becomes kind of awkward. I mean, do I stand there and watch them unload? Do I offer to help? If it's a guy with the cart he'll probably think I'm gay or something, and kick my ass. If it's a woman she's probably thinking parking-lot abduction, and with my luck she'll be packing. The problem is there are others out there like me…lurking… watching the same cart with envy. If you look around some time, you'll see them hovering by their cars, waiting for an opportunity to pounce. If two of us go for the same cart it's like hyenas fighting over a hunk of gazelle meat. The thing is, the cart I pick can make or break my day. Admit it…you know exactly what I'm talking about. It's a nice sunny day. You take a casual drive to the local WalMart to get some basics (and to watch the cultural phenomenon of course). You're in a great mood as you grab a cart, and push your way through the noisy slotted entry floor, past the automatic doors and the sometimes-drooling greeter. Then, once you are inside and ready to shop, you notice it. At first it's just a slight vibration. You figure it's an anomaly. Perhaps it's the cart next to you. For a moment you convince yourself of this, so you start to walk at your normal pace, and that's when the sound increases and the realization hits you - you have a right-front wheel wobbler. I don’t know exactly what it is about wheels that wobble, but they are freaking annoying. The wheel starts to vibrate uncontrollably, increasing in noise and intensity as you walk. It causes more commotion that the twin ADHD 8-year old boys fighting over the last Spiderman suit in the toy section. It drowns out anything on the intercom. It causes faint blips on the local Righter scale. It's even better at a place like Home Depot when you have one of those flat-bed carts. In those cases it's not just the wobble. It's usually accompanied by some completely unexplained banging. Wobble-wobble-wobble-WHAM !-wobble-wobble-wobble-WH AM! What the hell is up with that? Somebody want to tell me how a friggin cart wheel can actually make a banging sound loud enough to scare the birds in the rafters? Then there's the squeaker. I love these because it's a very unique sound. Kind of like a metallic version of nails on a chalkboard. It causes young children to cover their ears and point, and objects to vibrate off the shelves. It's an unholy sound. Even when I find a good cart, there are things that can go wrong. I remember being in Home Depot once, tooling along in what seemed to be a brand new flatbed cart. It handled like a dream, with wheels that were whisper quiet. I felt like I was driving a big rig as I picked up speed heading to the wood section. Then one wheel snagged onto a small chunk of broken kitchen tile, no bigger than a dime. You'd think that this heavy-duty, two-hundred-pound steel cart would go right over it, but nooooooooo. Instead it jammed between the wheel and the smooth concrete floor. The sound that emanated from this could cause ear drums to bleed. If I ever become filthy rich (which oughta happen right about the same time someone confuses me with George Cloony), I swear I'm going to buy my own custom cart, and bring it with me whenever I shop. |