Listen, you aren't the first person to do this, so I don't mean to target you. Or maybe I do, I don't care. Maybe you'll read this. Maybe you can't read. Maybe you, like the others, are just having a very difficult time grasping something that involves such little comprehension.
I don't blame you, really. You're probably in a zone. Got all your groceries on the belt and what not. Big ol' tub of butter, bread, some greens, plus a bottle of wine. Just one bottle though! Have to pretend you have it together. But I know better.
I know you're wound up so tight that slapping the grocery divider down like a clapperboard is very important to you. Shows you're in charge! And studying the bill screen like a damn hawk as the cashier scans each item tells me you're a penny-pincher extraordinaire. Nothing gets by you.
My guess is you also want that border wall built. It's the only logical conclusion I could come to when you emphatically decided to add to something that was already working in the first place.
My hand basket.
I'm sure you're unaware of my history with these wonderful creations, so here you go. I bet they're a terrible hassle for you, being older and all, probably arthritic hands, but I digress. My hands can still grasp onto them for now at least, so I use them more than say, your giant shopping cart. There's two to one odds you're going to just leave that cart wherever the fuck you want in the parking lot, instead of rolling it into to the cart corral. You can't bother to be inconvenienced!
No, no. Go ahead and pay with that check. Everyone totally still does that. Myself and all the others behind us will wait.
Anyway, back to the hand basket. Mine, to be exact. Well, not mine, but the store's basket. It's there, on the belt, in front of me. Empty, as I placed all my groceries that were in it, over to the left of it.
Here's where it might get tricky for you!
My groceries are on the left of this now empty basket. Your groceries are to the right of this empty basket. I am not buying the basket. The basket is - are you ready for this - separating our groceries. Just like that divider you hastily slammed down.
Now, I'm going to go out on a whim here, but I think the cashier is a pretty smart lad. Looks young, probably in school. I am going to guess that he sees my basket and realizes it is separating our groceries. The basket, you see, is the divider. Yes, it can be! He gets it, and other cashiers have before. I get it, which is why I put it there. You, along with a few other dimwits before that, do not seem to get it. Why is that?
Are hand baskets not allowed to be dividers in your tiny little world? That doesn't seem fair. They are quite versatile, you know. It can be a basket, it can be a storage unit. Hell if you're light enough it can be a small step stool. I wouldn't advise adults using it for such though. It can also very well serve as a grocery divider. Incredible, right?
In closing, I ask if you could possibly convene with some of the other short-sighted peers to discuss just how truly possible it is for a basket to serve as a divider. You just have to embrace it. There is no need for an actual divider stick in this sense. But perhaps you just enjoy vigorously handling long black sticks. And hey, that's none of my business.
I don't blame you, really. You're probably in a zone. Got all your groceries on the belt and what not. Big ol' tub of butter, bread, some greens, plus a bottle of wine. Just one bottle though! Have to pretend you have it together. But I know better.
I know you're wound up so tight that slapping the grocery divider down like a clapperboard is very important to you. Shows you're in charge! And studying the bill screen like a damn hawk as the cashier scans each item tells me you're a penny-pincher extraordinaire. Nothing gets by you.
My guess is you also want that border wall built. It's the only logical conclusion I could come to when you emphatically decided to add to something that was already working in the first place.
My hand basket.
I'm sure you're unaware of my history with these wonderful creations, so here you go. I bet they're a terrible hassle for you, being older and all, probably arthritic hands, but I digress. My hands can still grasp onto them for now at least, so I use them more than say, your giant shopping cart. There's two to one odds you're going to just leave that cart wherever the fuck you want in the parking lot, instead of rolling it into to the cart corral. You can't bother to be inconvenienced!
No, no. Go ahead and pay with that check. Everyone totally still does that. Myself and all the others behind us will wait.
Here's where it might get tricky for you!
My groceries are on the left of this now empty basket. Your groceries are to the right of this empty basket. I am not buying the basket. The basket is - are you ready for this - separating our groceries. Just like that divider you hastily slammed down.
Now, I'm going to go out on a whim here, but I think the cashier is a pretty smart lad. Looks young, probably in school. I am going to guess that he sees my basket and realizes it is separating our groceries. The basket, you see, is the divider. Yes, it can be! He gets it, and other cashiers have before. I get it, which is why I put it there. You, along with a few other dimwits before that, do not seem to get it. Why is that?
Are hand baskets not allowed to be dividers in your tiny little world? That doesn't seem fair. They are quite versatile, you know. It can be a basket, it can be a storage unit. Hell if you're light enough it can be a small step stool. I wouldn't advise adults using it for such though. It can also very well serve as a grocery divider. Incredible, right?
In closing, I ask if you could possibly convene with some of the other short-sighted peers to discuss just how truly possible it is for a basket to serve as a divider. You just have to embrace it. There is no need for an actual divider stick in this sense. But perhaps you just enjoy vigorously handling long black sticks. And hey, that's none of my business.