Dear old people and moms who insist on bringing their 17 children with them when they go grocery shopping,
I think it's time that we had a little space between us. We've had a good run, but I just want to see other people.
It's not me, it's you.
Here's the thing. When I go grocery shopping, I bring a list. My goal is to get into the grocery store, get the things on my list and get out without any head-on collisions or eruptions of swear words in my mind or under my breath.
You mean well, but you make my life a nightmare every time we're together. We're just no good for each other.
Moms, let me start with you. When you turn your shopping cart sideways, I know it's not your fault. It's probably an outer manifestation of your inner hormonal imbalance. I can't hate on that. I won't. But when your cart is sideways, absolutely no one can get past you. You're not trying to be rude, but you really, really are being rude.
When your kids run up and down the aisle, yelling, pulling each others' hair and yanking items down off the shelves and leaving them to lay in the middle of the floor, I know you probably don't even see or hear that. You've tuned out. You've given up.
But I need you to understand there are other people on this planet who are forced to share spaces with you and your lovely offspring, sometimes. These people feel like smashing their heads against cinder blocks when they're around your kids for more than five minutes. These same people go as far as to consider spanking your kids for you, since you seem unwilling to do it yourself. We just would like you to either pretend to be their mother, or hire a babysitter and leave them at home. Word?
Old people. Bless your hearts. You lived a good life and ran a good race. You're sweet. All of you. Hard candy and Wheel of Fortune keeps you totally happy, and I respect that. But, when you walk into Walmart and I see that glazed over look on your face that tells me you probably aren't going to remember who you are or why you're at the store for at least another 30 minutes, it makes me want to go home.
The problem is that if I do, and I come back later, there will be another version of you -- just with a different name.
Sometimes, you like to use the electric carts. It saves wear and tear on your limbs. I get that. The problem is that you are dangerous. You back up without having any idea of who is behind you. You dart out into oncoming foot-traffic and scare the ever-loving doo-doo out of innocent people who just want to buy some bananas.
I'm not saying you should never leave the house, but maybe the grocery store is where you should be trying to prove you're still independent.
Ultimately, I know you all are probably not going to take my suggestions. Both of your groups own a certain sense of entitlement, due to what you've been through. I don't blame you. Having babies and being old is hard. I couldn't do it. You rock.
So, I'd like to propose a compromise.
You're not going to stop being inconsiderate, because you believe that's your right. Fair enough. So, instead of you changing who you are, how about we come up with a visitation schedule?
From 8am to 3pm, Walmart and every other grocery store is all yours. Bring your kids. Use your carts. Park sideways. GO NUTS!
After 3pm, normal, considerate human beings have dibs. Shoot, we'll even give you guys the weekends.
Sound good?
I don't want to rush you. Take your time. Talk it over, but I think this is a good deal for everyone. Get back to me when you get a chance.
Sincerely,
Decent people everywhere
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