I’m sure someone nearly gets maimed in Walmart just about every day, but you don’t realize the perils that lurk in plain sight (usually sporting a mullet or wearing some kind of Duck Dynasty apparel) until they run into you.
Let me first start by acknowledging the elephant in the room: I shop at Walmart. At some point in our cultural experience, Walmart became the Nickelback of bargain shopping, but that doesn’t change the fact that sometimes Walmart is cheaper than Target. Even the most devoted Target shoppers should be able to concede that truth. We all know that braving the bedlam in the Walmart parking lot and risking being seen in Walmart is how the corporation compensates for its low prices; shopping at Walmart costs you less dollars, but more dignity.
My boyfriend and I had picked up a few things, and we were traveling at a speed of level five Walmart Hurry.
Walmart Hurry: the unprecedented semi-run you break into when you realize your shopping has finished that someone looking at the batteries might be fixin’ to steal your teeth.
We were rushing to the self-checkout – a gilded, often malfunctioning utopia that separates the bourgeoisie from the proletarians in the grocery store. My boyfriend was navigating with the cart, and I had pulled out ahead to get there early so I could resolve any error messages or phantom unaccounted items in the bagging area. I every bit as determined as I would be if I were securing us space on a lifeboat of a sinking unsinkable ship. I leapt over unattended children and ducked around domestic disputes, but I saw a possible obstruction ahead: a man in a motorized shopping cart.
I approached Motorized Shopping Cart Man with considerable caution, because the only thing more terrifying than the people on foot at Walmart are those operating machinery. He was stopped right in my path at the gift card display. He had glasses reminiscent of Junior Soprano and, and he didn’t appear to be disabled in any motorized cart-requiring way you could immediately identify by sight (so it’s possible he may have had an intellectual disability). As I got closer, he was turning the handlebars in the opposite direction. I assumed he was moving out of my way. I kept walking.
Instead of pulling over, the very moment I was in front of his cart he gunned it and smushed me against the magazine rack on the end-cap of checkout line five.
I have thankfully never been hit by a moving vehicle, be it a car, bike, or motorized shopping cart, so as Motorized Shopping Cart Man’s metal basket pressed into my thunderous left thigh and pinned me against the latest issue of Cosmopolitan I wasn’t sure what I should do. I was uncomfortable, but not hurt. I was confused. But mostly, I felt very awkward and vulnerable because a strange man has never shoved me against a magazine display with his motor shopping cart in Walmart before. Should I say excuse me? Do I yell at him? Should I threaten legal action?
“Iiii’m sorrry!” he started in a nasally voice.
I had no reason not to believe him, but I was certain he had seen me coming.
“I didn’t even see you. I’m so sorry… I didn’t see you.”
As the full apology began to unfold – it mostly consisted of repetitions about how he didn’t see me – he still hadn’t reversed his cart to let me free. I struggled against the cart, and finally he backed up far enough to let me out. I muttered a quick, “It’s okay,” and continued heading to the promised land. Now I really had a reason to get out of Walmart. He was still apologizing when I looked back and made a, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SEE THAT” face at my boyfriend. When we were reunited at the checkout, I asked, “Did you see that guy ran right into me?”
“Yeah, I was going to come up to him and act pissed, but I thought you’d get mad.”
“I was sure he saw me. I wouldn’t have kept walking otherwise!”
“He looked right you. There’s no way he didn’t see you. It was almost like he thought this was going to be a Disney movie, and if he hit you, you’d fall in love with him.”
Now, I’m okay – no scratches or bruises (thx left thigh, you da real MVP) – and I think Motorized Shopping Cart Man will be able to live with the guilt of potentially maiming me in Walmart, but I want this incident to make a difference in the world. This can’t have all happened for nothing. Perhaps it’s a sign. Maybe there’s something more we should be doing.
Maybe we need to crack down on who’s allowed to use the store-provided motor carts.
Normally, I don’t think twice when I see someone on a motor cart in the store. People need to shop, but some of them may have trouble standing or walking. I understand! What person would want to scoot around the store tempting the disdain of all the other shoppers who are stuck schlepping around, carrying their jackets and other paraphernalia? I assumed every motor cart user’s intentions were pure, but what if some people truly don’t deserve the in-store motorized cart? What if some people are not qualified to operate the in-store motorized cart?
Prior to my accident, I assumed there was some sort of screening process to use the in-store motor cart. Maybe you go to customer service, sign some kind of waiver that releases the retailer (grocer, etc.) of all legal liabilities resulting from crashes, take an eye test, demonstrate why you actually need the motor cart, and maybe even take a test drive around one of the aisles just to prove you’re a safe operator. In Walmart, I assumed their outfit would accommodate a full service motorized cart DMV, complete with a practice track that tours around the stockroom.
But now I think it’s all a lie. There’s no vision test. There’s no proof of need required. There’s no background check. ANYONE CAN USE A MOTORIZED CART!
I was lucky enough to have an end-cap to save me from getting run down, but you may not be. The next time you’re in Walmart or any other store, keep your eyes open, especially around the motorized cart operators. You may not be safe.
