Yesterday I had to run to the grocery store to deposit a check at the bank and pick up some dinner. When I arrived the parking lot was littered with carts (no corrals right now the lot is under construction) but I wasn’t about to grab a cart from outside lest I burn my hands. (AZ sun…)
So I walked into the store… NO CARTS ANYWHERE. Humph, fine, I will get my bare minimum stuff and go. I got toothpaste, mac-n-cheese, and smoked sausage. I did NOT get the watermelon that was calling my name because there was no way I could carry it out to the car – or even to the checkstand – without hurting my hugely pregnant self.
I took my stuff up. The cashier, who was about 12 years old, I swear, brightly asked, “Did you find everything you need?” I said, “sure, except for CARTS. You might want to call for someone to do a round up.”
Her (vapid, vacant) response?
“Oh yeah. The guy who was supposed to get the carts didn’t come in today so we are all trying to figure out what to do about it.”
Um, how about send someone ELSE out to get the carts????
(Just so you know, they were not understaffed. There were several checkstands open and several people stocking shelves around the store, some of whom were actually just standing around.)
Oh well, it is my least favorite grocery store anyway.