One thing I see in my neighborhood and in many surrounding neighborhoods is a weak sense of community. Too many of us...ok you...are turning inward. You're folding in on yourself like a fallen souffle. You're looking out for number one without a care for your neighbor. This is no good people. We need to take pride in the community and it starts simply with a quick 'hello' to a passing pedestrian or picking up garbage, or more importantly not frigging littering in the first place.
Today I want to look at one specific aspect. Naturally it starts with a short story. I was at my local grocer the other day. A woman decked out in the finest Lulu Lemon garb walked her cart to her Porsche Cayenne (nice ride by the way). She loaded her groceries into the car, moved the cart into the parking spot behind her then moved to the passenger side of the vehicle. Noticing a slight grade to the pavement I stayed put—stayed ready—as always.
As predicted a wind kicked up and the cart was off the races. The races being the driver door of a sweet classic 1965 Mustang. I wasn't having any of that. I hustled to the cart and grabbed it three inches before it made contact with the Stang. Lady Lulu Lemon heard the rescue and snuck a peak. We made eye contact.
"That would have ruined someone's day," I said not so subtly.
"Huh," was all she gave me.
"By huh, do you mean, thank you?" I asked offering a free etiquette lesson.
Well, I'm here to tell you that the combined eye roll and sneer would stop a grizzly bear in it's tracks. Good thing I'm no bear. I began wheeling the cart back to the corral only I slowed once behind the Cayenne. Obviously a two hundred and six pound brother with a sunny disposition and shopping cart in tow shows up on the Porsche back-up camera. Lady Lulu is forced to lock up her brakes for fear of running over the good samaritan brother. In truth I was ready for her to take me out and gun it toward me. My plan was to jam the cart under the tires and not so effortlessly shoulder roll my way to safety—cause I'm kinda ready like that, ha!
Her hands go up in full-on tortured exasperation.
"Sorry," I said. "Just returning somebody's cart."
Perhaps you could say I was being a little shit but I believe eggs must be broken to make a world-a-better-place-omelette. And baby, we've got to do it one cart at a time.
The good news is I have a plan to incentivize community members to return carts to the corral so nobody's car gets dinged and parking spots are available to all good people. Cash—The cold hard kind. By the way this will be part of my platform when I run for mayor.
We'll use parking lot surveillance cameras. If you don't return your cart you go on a list. And you will find an added 15% fee on your grocery bill. For those us that return carts to where they belong we'll receive a 10% discount on our grocery bill because the surveillance cameras will alibi us out. The remaining 5% of proceeds from cart-lot-infraction-proceeds will go to local charities.
Boom! There it is. If you violate, you pay. Play by the cart etiquette rules of decency and decorum and you win. I hereby bring down the gavel, baby!
Today I want to look at one specific aspect. Naturally it starts with a short story. I was at my local grocer the other day. A woman decked out in the finest Lulu Lemon garb walked her cart to her Porsche Cayenne (nice ride by the way). She loaded her groceries into the car, moved the cart into the parking spot behind her then moved to the passenger side of the vehicle. Noticing a slight grade to the pavement I stayed put—stayed ready—as always.
As predicted a wind kicked up and the cart was off the races. The races being the driver door of a sweet classic 1965 Mustang. I wasn't having any of that. I hustled to the cart and grabbed it three inches before it made contact with the Stang. Lady Lulu Lemon heard the rescue and snuck a peak. We made eye contact.
"That would have ruined someone's day," I said not so subtly.
"Huh," was all she gave me.
"By huh, do you mean, thank you?" I asked offering a free etiquette lesson.
Well, I'm here to tell you that the combined eye roll and sneer would stop a grizzly bear in it's tracks. Good thing I'm no bear. I began wheeling the cart back to the corral only I slowed once behind the Cayenne. Obviously a two hundred and six pound brother with a sunny disposition and shopping cart in tow shows up on the Porsche back-up camera. Lady Lulu is forced to lock up her brakes for fear of running over the good samaritan brother. In truth I was ready for her to take me out and gun it toward me. My plan was to jam the cart under the tires and not so effortlessly shoulder roll my way to safety—cause I'm kinda ready like that, ha!
Her hands go up in full-on tortured exasperation.
"Sorry," I said. "Just returning somebody's cart."
Perhaps you could say I was being a little shit but I believe eggs must be broken to make a world-a-better-place-omelette. And baby, we've got to do it one cart at a time.
The good news is I have a plan to incentivize community members to return carts to the corral so nobody's car gets dinged and parking spots are available to all good people. Cash—The cold hard kind. By the way this will be part of my platform when I run for mayor.
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| Lady Lulu Lemon |
We'll use parking lot surveillance cameras. If you don't return your cart you go on a list. And you will find an added 15% fee on your grocery bill. For those us that return carts to where they belong we'll receive a 10% discount on our grocery bill because the surveillance cameras will alibi us out. The remaining 5% of proceeds from cart-lot-infraction-proceeds will go to local charities.
Boom! There it is. If you violate, you pay. Play by the cart etiquette rules of decency and decorum and you win. I hereby bring down the gavel, baby!
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