I may have latent anger management issues.
I love my grocery store. I do not love the people who shop at my grocery store. They seem to have an inflated sense of personal space entitlement. Leaving carts in the middle of the produce aisles, despite the steady stream of people who pass through there. Stopping to talk with neighbors, carts parked parallel to one another, in the middle of the store's main thoroughfare. Strolling slowly arm in arm through said crowded section as if it were a farmer's market on a leisurely Saturday morning.
I'm thrilled that some people have the time to slow down and savor the spectacle of broccolini and jicama, the scent of cilantro or coffee beans, or the glory of the gourmet cheese aisle. But why not do so on, say, a Tuesday morning rather than during the crush of a Saturday late afternoon? I just want to fill my cart with my weekly staples, pay, and get the hell out of there.
There needs to be some kind of driver's ed course for shopping cart operation, the establishment of some rules of right-of-way. If you're trying to decide between varieties of Frosted Mini-Wheats, kindly pull your cart over to the side so that others may pass. If I'm staring at the same shelves of marinara sauce as you are, acknowledge my presence by moving slightly to the side so that I can grab a jar of the good stuff without having to elbow you aside. If you're waiting in line at the registers, don't angle your cart in such a way as to block access to people trying to navigate the lane perpendicular to the registers. And for the love of all that is holy, look both ways before letting your cart drift slowly into an intersection as you're overwhelmed by the end-cap of lovely handmade holiday soaps.
Remember, people, I can only grit my teeth in aggravation for so long before my jaw shatters. And the student health insurance doesn't cover that kind of damage.