An Open Letter To The King Soopers Parking Lot Attendant

I could not help but overhear your whining to the manager on duty regarding the broken cart-pushing machine while I was waiting in the checkout line with my steaks and diapers. I wish I could say I felt sympathy for you, kid, but you are nothing more than a spoiled bitch. Back when you were still playing with your own crap and watching Sesame Street, I was pushing carts for Uncle Sam Walton without the aid of mechanized transport. The Slushy Gutter Crew toiled and labored in that godforsaken parking lot, but we all took pride in pushing cart trains into the warehouse with our youthful exuberance and brawn. We also took pride in pushing those same carts into the lake behind the warehouse, playing Nerf football games when the manager’s backs were turned, daring each other to climb into the hydraulic bailing machine and turn it on, loading eight flatbeds full of merchandise into a motorcycle gang‘s refrigerated truck and kicking boxes across the asphalt. In short, suck it up and push the carts in yourself, princess.

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  1. My wife just shakes her head at me, because every time I see some 16 year old using those machines I start calling him a pussy.
    Man up and move those carts yourself boy! Back in my day they were 25 pounds of steel, and we pushed them through the snow with VW’s.

  2. 100 degree days on black asphalt…toxic hot dog water…attack dogs in parked cars…playing video games at Red Robin…still hanging with the same dorks 15 years later…car exhaust in your grill 8 hours a day.

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