Tonight I went to Sam's Club with my father, Jerry, who is now asleep in his underwear on the couch. Every time I go to BJ's Wholesale with Jerry (this is our first time together at Sam's) he gives me the option of driving the shopping cart. I recall that before puberty the notion of getting behind the shopping cart was privilege enough to make me and my siblings fight over the honor, usually running the bottom of the cart into my mother's ankles several times in the process. But after age 12 or so, I would usually find myself at another section of the store, looking for a sale on Parental Avoidance. Since 16, the honor of driving the cart has been paltry compared to driving the motorized cart that got us to the store. Now, years later, I question why my father acts like the mall Santa handing out lollipops when he asks if I want to "take the wheels."
The shopping carts at Sam's are the biggest I've seen outside of Home Depot. However, it is not the size of the carts that I wonder about, but how we use them. At one point my father leaned over to me and said, almost pretending that we were halfway into a conversation, that "all that iced tea is finally making its way so I'm going to find the men's room." In his absence I was to "watch the cart and make sure nothing happens to it." And for the first time I thought to myself, what would happen to it? Would something get stolen? What if something did? It wouldn't matter! It's not like we owned anything in the cart. It's not like we couldn't replace anything if it were taken from the cart. And it's especially not like someone would walk past and think to themselves "Hey, how convenient for me, bwah ha ha! Ten pounds of presently unrefridgerated Sam's Club ground chuck for me to purchase just as if I were in the next aisle where they are currently located! This is my lucky day!
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