So I must ask why, out of the multitude of shopping carts in a store, particularly a grocery store, I always seem to choose the one that has problems. It either has a squeaky wheel, or it pushes hard, or one wheel is out of round, or it pushes like a car needing an alignment job, or...
I'm thinking there should be some type of job security out there for someone who can be a fulltime cart repair person. Perhaps that can be my new profession, or at least my second one. I try to be as inconspicuous as possible at a grocery store. There really should be no pomp and circumstance surrounding the spending of hundreds of dollars on a few items that fill only three sacks (or, if you're into green, fill only two bags that are brought from home).
There I am, headed down the breakfast meat aisle, when all I hear is "sqwaak, thud, sqwaak, thud, sqwaak, thud." It doesn't help that I cannot seem to find the lean hog meat that we consumers are supposedly demanding these days. The judge just put an ultra-trim hog on top of the class at the county fair, but that gilt apparently did not make it to the grocery store. I think some cull sow wound up on the cooler shelves. So now everyone is looking at me, wondering what--or who--is making that awful noise. No, the "sqwaak, thud" noise, not the noise somewhat loudly complaining about the lack of lean hogs.
I throw in some of the leanest fat bacon I can find, then head on toward the dairy products. "Sqwaak, thud, sqwaak, thud." What!!! That's highway robbery--three bucks for a dozen eggs. Oh, I see. They're from cage-free, organic, free-range hens. Well that explains it. Maybe those egg producers could donate a little of their profits to getting these free-roaming grocery carts fixed. I don't get three bucks for a dozen eggs and my hens most definitely are free-range and cage-free. Heck, I have no idea where they range all day long--unless I spy one out in the pasture chewing her cud with the cows.
This cart is really beginning to annoy me. I am no longer inconspicuous (like I ever was!). I wander on over to the bread aisle, herding ole thump-a-long as I go. It's got a nice beat, but you can't dance to it. Holy smokes--$3.65 for a loaf of bread and the wheat producer gets how much from that loaf? Of course, with nearly four dollar fuel, it's obvious the grocery store can't afford to buy oil for the cart wheels.
Well, it's a good thing this grocery shopping has nearly come to an end. I'm nearly worn out from the push me-pull me that's holding my little pot of gold ('er food). Yep, think I'm gonna pursue that idea of becoming a shopping cart repair person.