Wholly Worthless

I took a spin through Whole Foods one day and, as always, noticed the exceptionally healthy-looking customers shopping there. Dressed in expensive workout clothes and shoes, these folks were handpicking the freshest, organic fruits and vegetables, bagging Fair Trade coffee and nuts from the bulk bins, choosing wild-caught salmon, and selecting beef from cows raised without hormones and antibiotics. They chose soaps scented with real essential oils, $4.99 a bar, rather than the store-brand soap I buy at $1.99 for three bars; ionized alkaline water for $2.99 a bottle, while I serve mine from the tap. I selected just a couple items with the intention of going to my regular reasonably-priced grocery store for the bulk of my groceries.

 I guess she deserves to splurge after the workout she must have had earlier today, I thought, noticing a young woman’s sixty-dollar bottle of champagne as well as her perfectly-sculpted legs unmarred by any trace of cellulite. I happened to be behind her at checkout and then exited through the same door. Turns out, her car was just a few spaces from mine, so I watched as she put her bags in the car, pushed her shopping cart to the curb, got in her driver’s seat and drove away. Her cart was left there, almost certain to come into contact with any other car attempting to use that space. Never mind that there was a shopping cart corral a few yards away.

I don’t get the attention to personal health and fitness, yet being too damn lazy to put a shopping cart in its proper place. Wholly worthless, even if you are shopping for pricey things at Whole Foods.