There, I’ve said it.
Orange is the new black, right?
In my defense, the first time I committed cart robbery I was tired as only a single mom can be. And had been that way for so long, I thought I was on my game.
It all began in the dairy section. I needed a container of sour cream that was so high up and far back on the shelf, I was sure I’d need a Harlem Globetrotter to reach it.
Along came a six-foot-tall woman who saw my dilemma and kindly nabbed the sour cream for me.
I thanked her and put it in the cart next to me, pushing off to the deli.
About five minutes into my deli foray, I heard an announcement to all shoppers, indicating someone had taken a cart that was not theirs. Could that person kindly return it to the Customer Service counter?
As I put some freshly baked French bread into my cart, I thought it an odd message to broadcast. Most people who take the wrong cart realize it very soon after doing so.
In the soup aisle, the announcement came again, this time a bit louder and more vehement.
I chuckled, rolled my eyes and said to the woman standing next to me surveying the chicken stock, “Boy, you REALLY have to be out of it to take someone else’s cart and not notice 20 minutes and two announcements later.” We laughed, a bit condescendingly, at the poor misguided soul who was pushing someone else’s Twinkies. I mean, really.
It hit me in the cracker aisle, as the third announcement blared over the store’s intercom system.
I had Twinkies in my cart.
I don’t buy Twinkies.
Turns out, I also had beef jerky, marshmallows and instant hot chocolate.
Yep. You guessed it. None of those were my items.
And I realized—I’m the idiot they’ve been paging for the past 20 minutes.
Imagine my mortification when I realized that it was the kindly giant from the dairy section who awaited me in Customer Service. She had helped me and I responded by absconding with her groceries—Twinkies and all.
After laughing and some good-natured ribbing, I found my cart back in the Dairy section (I guess I was the only cart nabber that day, as it was still intact where I had left it) and we made the item by item switch.
But I cannot.
I’m usually caught in the act about an aisle over. And I’ve done this probably half a dozen times now.
I’d like to wax eloquent about my first victim’s poor eating habits or any of the others’ exasperation. But I can’t right now.
I think I need a nap. Before I head out to the store.
Look sharp, people. I might be headed your way.