Articles & Essays

With the trappings went my holiday spirit, because the aisles were peppered with hazards, threats that lawmakers only consider regulating when they occur on the highways.

I'm talking about those guilty of talking while shopping.

Some folks think it's nothing to operate a shopping cart with a cell phone laminated to an ear. But a shopping cart is a vehicle, people. A pileup in the freezer aisle is not pretty. The result can be cardboard penguins that won't soon be smiling as they display their free coupon offerings.

I find the talk-while-shopping people more annoying than moms with kids spilling out of their carts. The moms have a good excuse for being distracted, bless their hearts. Usually, they'll at least try to rein in the chaos.

On a recent shopping trip, I encountered the prime offenders who put me on the verge of aisle rage.

Grocery Gabber No. 1: This woman parked her cart in the exact center of the aisle (is there an app to determine that?) and proceeded with an important conversation that required her full concentration. I think it had something to do with a gentleman named Tiger Woods.

I pulled up and stood there, because I couldn't get around her on either side. She glared at me as if I were deliberately eavesdropping on her top-secret discussion about celebrity gossip and gave me The Stare of Death, the kind of look you'd give someone who steals a parking space from you in a packed lot. Then she deigned to move her cart two inches to one side.

Grocery Gabber No. 2: A different, but no less potent, threat. Jaws flapping and basket swinging on her arm, she plowed down the aisle like a point guard on a fast break, oblivious to everything in her path. I avoided taking a charging foul by plastering myself against the cereal shelf.

Grocery Gabber No. 3: A sneaky one. He alternated between staring vacantly while blocking high-traffic shelves (juice, eggs, etc.) and suddenly lunging in random directions. He was talking to his spouse, who was going through the contents of the pantry and refrigerator at home to find needed items. He had arrived at the store with no list.

Perhaps I'm just bitter because my cell phone is so old that it's ONLY a phone. No MP3 player, no GPS, no app that converts it to a spirit level. It does have a camera, but it has a tendency to take photos of the inside of my purse. I guess that's my version of butt-dialing.

Once I'm in the supermarket, my phone has fewer bars than a dry county. I can't do what Grocery Gabber No. 3 was doing, which is probably the second most common use for cell phones. The widest use, from my unscientific observations, is to call people and ask, "Where are you?"

And the gabbers keep on talking in the checkout line, as if the phone is a scuba tank providing their only air supply. They swipe a credit card and roll out, never acknowledging that the person at the cash register exists. People complain about the lack of service in retail today. Maybe it would help if shoppers, once in a while, recognized that a human being is assisting them, not a robot bar-code swiper.

But the dangers of talking while shopping far outweigh the social issues. All I'm asking is that the next time you grab a grocery cart and pick up that phone in the frozen pizza aisle, please, think of the penguins.