Sunday, November 7, 2010

An Open Letter to the Management of Giant Store #0127

I imagine, when you brought in the little mini shopping carts with the "Customer in Training" flags, that you were hoping to attract families just like mine. You know, families with young children? Children who might want to push those carts?

I think it may have been a flawed plan. My family already patronized your store. My kids were content to sit in the front of that funny cart with the plastic car attached in front. They got to cruise the store in their low-rider, honking the horn and steering from their side-by-side steering wheels. I got to keep my kids contained. We were happy.

Why did you mess with a good thing?


Now we are a chain of three shopping carts instead of the one cart we used to be. We block traffic in the produce aisle. We obstruct the yogurt selection. We can simultaneously select a box of cookies, knock over a cracker display, and nip an old lady's ankles. This mama didn't give permission for the cookies and that old lady didn't think your green carts are that cute.

And my ankles. My ankles are not delighted, either. How convenient that you sell adhesive bandages. You should consider moving them to an earlier aisle.

I know you think the carts are a draw but given the way my child will drive straight while looking backwards, or stop without in the middle of the center aisle to exclaim at her favorite characters on the balloons above, I wonder if you might be alienating all of the non-kid-toting shoppers far more than you're enticing the kid-toting shoppers.

(The ones like me. Who have to be there anyway. Because we run out of milk about fourteen times a week.)

The little carts exasperate me, and I tend to think my kids are pretty amusing. The opinion of the rest of your shoppers, I think, is far less forgiving.

I hope you'll consider this bit of feedback in the helpful tone in which it was intended. Don't tell my kids I wrote to you, okay?


(For the sake of peace, cheese selections were made without restraint. Then, quietly, cheese selections were handed away to a stockboy amidst the distraction known as The Great Yogurt Drama of Aisle One. Do you think your stockboy minded the extra restocking chore? Feel free to ask him. Also note, L wore her firefighter boots. She was the only one among us to remember that protective footwear is essential to grocery shopping and unscathed ankles.)

Much love,

Robin (noteverstill) Pin It