Tom was a great guy. This was a fact unanimously decided upon in eighth grade, by a kilted schoolgirl named Madison who Tom offered his best number two pencil to for a scantron test, and Tom’s mom. It was nearly five years later now though, and nobody cared if Tom was a great guy. Tom was a horrible grocery bagger. In his defense, how was he supposed to know that Meredith wanted her milk in a separate bag from her Clorox? Or that Jonathan actually wanted his eggs and bread in the same bag as his can of salsa? Worst of all— how could he ever be expected to know how to fill Old Ethel’s two floppy reusable bags with 46 cans of small carrots in a way that wouldn’t break her arms as she carried them up the stairs? Tom did not know how GrubVille’s all-star baggers knew these things, but he sure didn’t. These questions went on a long list of issues Tom did not know the answer to, right under why anyone would choose not to go through the self-checkout line in the first place.

          Tom was deemed so bad at bagging after Ethel’s unfortunate incident that he was demoted to a scanner, one of those sad scanners who stand behind the conveyor belt as other employees do their bagging for them. Of course, that hadn’t lasted long either, what with Chad the bag boy being a cutthroat man of ambition, eager to have all of register 9 for himself. So it goes, just as soon as Tom had been a scanner man for a month, right when he began to daydream about impaling himself on a customer’s plastic conveyor belt divider, he was approached by the bane of his existence, Dan the boss.

          “Tom.”

          “Good morning Da—”

          “Chad will be taking over your register.”

          Dan the boss, a bald middle-aged man with droopy eyelids, a tight mouth, and a questionable goatee, looked at Tom eagerly, hungry to see devastation in his eyes. Tom smiled, nodded, and removed his items from the small drawer he had been given.

          “Cool. Should I head over to register 10?”

          Dan the boss did not smile but emitted noises of pained laughter.

          “No, no, no. I think we’ve established that you’re not really cash register material. Not like Chad, over there.” Dan flashed Chad a thumbs up.

          Tom was sure this dig at his register abilities was supposed to be insulting, but he could not really find it in himself to be phased by this information. He looked into the devilish eyes of Chad, who was now standing right next to him and filling up the drawer with his personal items, having been losing sleep waiting for the day he could leave the plastic bag carousel and make his mark on the world. Tom cautiously stepped away from him.

          “Fair enough. Where should I go?”

          Dan looked at his clipboard, which made him feel like a powerful man, as only he knew that the paper had nothing but horse sketches on it. He looked to Tom.

          “Well, you’re going to be doing a routine cycle around the entire store, finishing at the parking lot.”

          “So, I’m a Shopping Cart Attendant?”

          “If a fancy name makes you feel better about yourself. I don’t want to see any empty carts obstructing the aisles Tom. God help me, that is such a liability. You know I have high blood pressure after the Ethel situation. If I see one shopping cart sitting unattended for over five minutes, you’ll be receiving the hospital bills when my heart explodes, and you will never be hired by another GrubVille again. Understand?”

          Over Tom’s shoulder, Chad’s beady eyes sparkled with glee. Tom kindly nodded.

          “Yes, sir.”

          As soon as he was out of Dan the boss’s fiery gaze, Tom ran through the GrubVille aisles with glee. He was free. Free from the confines of the tiny cash register rectangle that enclosed him. Free from Chad’s constant attempts at sabotage. Free from the endless judgment of Dan and his clipboard with the horrible sketches of horses that he didn’t think Tom could see. Tom had the whole store to himself now, and if there was one thing he could excel at in this GrubVille- in this life— he knew it was attending to shopping carts. And just like that, skipping jovially past aisle 7, he spotted his first abandoned cart, right in front of the overpriced granola bars.

          Tom smoothed his vest and approached it purposefully. As he placed his hands around

          the gray metal handles, he felt a surge of empowerment. He had always been more of a shopping basket man himself, and to stand at the helm of a cart brought on a feeling of maturity. He was adulting, and from here forth he decided to shake off the awkwardness of his youth, to be a new, suave man. Unfortunately, just as Tom was about to commit to this notion, a small hand landed on his. Tom looked up and was met with a familiar gaze. It couldn’t be.

          “Tom?”

          Tom almost threw up in his mouth. “Be smooth,” he told himself.

          “Madison?” His voice cracked.

          Madison let out a shrieky little laugh and threw her arms around him. Tom’s brain exploded. He had not seen Madison since they graduated eighth grade. Tom had once had an extremely obvious and unreciprocated crush on Madison, the lowlight of this being when Tom offered Madison his best number two pencil for the Spanish final exam, assuring her that he had one for himself. The only one he had for himself had a broken tip and no eraser, which consequently led to Tom scratching holes in his scantron, failing to change any of his answers,

          and getting a 12.

          “I’m sorry I didn’t know this cart—”

          “It’s been so long! How are you? Oh my gosh, you look so good!”

          Madison analyzed Tom in a way that made him feel a strange mixture of flattered and extremely uncomfortable.

          “I’m good, I’m good, you look great too.”

          Tom faked a cough as he said this last sentence, trying to diffuse the sound of any emotion or warmth in his voice. He looked up at her and smoothed his hair back.

          “What are you doing here?”

          “Oh, just buying granola.”

          Tom leaned against a shelf like a seductive noodle.

          “Cool. I love granola.”

          “This is so crazy. When you get off shift do you want—”

          “TOM AISLE 13” a voice blared from the intercom, rattling throughout the store. It was the nefarious voice of Dan the boss, coming to ruin Tom’s joy, as it usually did. Tom ignored it and nodded inquisitively.

          “Would you want—”

          “TOM AISLE 13 NOW. WE HAVE A SEVERE EMERGENCY. NOW.”

          “Shouldn’t you go?” Madison gestured up to the intercom.

          Tom shook his head. Dan was not ruining his moment. This was not happening.

          “Please Madison, just finish your sent—”

          “EMERGENCY NOW. EMERGENCY NOW. EMERGENCY NOW.”

          Tom closed his eyes and pretended he was anywhere else with Madison right now, anywhere else but this godforsaken neighborhood GrubVille. He sighed.

          “Stay right here, I’ll be right back.”

          Tom went to touch her hand but decided at the last minute to offer a weird, limp fist

          bump. Then, before she could reciprocate, he took off sprinting to Aisle 13. This had better be a really horrific emergency, he thought. There better be a bear on the loose, or a badger, or a shoplifter, or— a shopping cart. A red, abandoned shopping cart sat in Aisle 13, laughing at Tom. He buried his frustration in his chest for a moment, deciding he could wait until later to throw Dan the boss through a window. Tom grabbed the shopping cart, hopped on the back, and began to race past the refrigerated lunch meat, past the sample containers that were always out of samples, and towards the front of the store. A familiar, annoying shout over the intercom:

          “THOMAS.”

          Tom ignored the voice and pedaled his foot on the side of the cart to gain speed.

          “THOMAS.”

          “WHAT?” Tom screamed up into the ether.

          “GET OFF THE BACK OF THE CART THOMAS.”

          Tom rolled his eyes and proceeded to soar through the aisles.

          “Okay, yep, one second!”

          He was so close to the front; all he had was a few more yards before he could add his vehicle to the shopping cart lines and run back to Madison.

          “GET OFF THE BACK OF THE CART THOMAS.”

          Tom briskly hopped off, cart lines in sight, and began to speed walk his cart over. Just before he could drop it off, the weasel that is Chad popped in front of him.

          “Hey Chad, can you move please? I’m really in a hurry.”

          Chad’s eyes gleamed. His nose twitched.

          “Actually, Dan told me to tell you that he wants you to backtrack to where you found the cart and walk it back correctly.”

          Tom laughed. Chad laughed. Tom laughed louder. Chad laughed louder. Tom stopped.

          “I’m not doing that Chad.”

          Tom forcefully tried to push his cart past Chad, who stubbornly grabbed a hold of it.

          “Dan’s the boss, Tom. You were a hazard to customers. Take the cart back and walk like the employee handbook describes.”

          Tom slowly slid the cart forward.

          “Chad. If you don’t move—”

          “What Tom? What are you going to do? We both know I will have you fired in a second. A second.”

          Chad slid the cart backwards. Things escalated rather quickly from there.

          Arms locked, brows furrowed, the pair aggressively pushed the shopping cart into each other with full force. Tom was taller, but Chad— more vicious. He hopped onto the lower track of the cart, leaned forward, and head-butted Tom. Tom attempted to swing the cart around and hurl the goblin off but foolishly failed to compensate for the squeaky, defunct back wheel— a universal shopping cart trait. Using the technical difficulty to his advantage, little Chad hopped inside the cart and began slapping Tom across the face, his grimy paws showing no mercy.

          “You evil little—”

          “You have no place in GrubVille and I will get you out of here if it’s the last thing I—”

          Mid-screech, Chad’s face suddenly softened into a smile and turned slightly to the left of Tom. His hands went to his hips as he sat up in his cart cubby.

          “Hi welcome to GrubVille! Can I help you with anything?”

          Chad’s quality customer service and unmatched desire to be “Employee of the Month” proved an invaluable opportunity for Tom, who saw his chance and took it. He left Chad behind with a soccer mom, wondering which aisle had evaporated milk in it, and dashed away as fast as humanly possible. A man on a mission, he sped through customers without a second glance, accidentally knocking over merchandise and alarming several people in his wake. Finally, he arrived at aisle 7. He caught his breath, lowered his expectations, and turned the corner.

          It was empty. Tom sighed. A box of Nature Valley bars sat on the ground. He picked it up, smoothed it off, and placed it back on its shelf. Of course Madison had callously left it on the floor, just like she had more than likely lost his number two pencil in some bleak high school hallway, or slowly let it become a stub of lead, never bothering to sharpen it. Tom made his way back to the front of the store slowly, filling his emotional void with empty baskets and carts along the way. He didn’t need love. He had grocery vehicles.

          His first sight upon reaching the registers was Dan at aisle 9, comforting Chad, who held a cold refrigerated soda from a nearby fridge to his ribs. Dan looked up at Tom, unenthused.

          “Tom?”

          “Yes, sir?”

          Dan nodded his head towards the parking lot.

          “Out on the far island, waiting for you.”

          Tom looked up in disbelief, a red giddiness spreading over his face.

          “For me?”

          Dan the boss just nodded, uninterested, and let out a sigh. Tom brought his hand to his hair and stood, mouth open, unsure how to process this information. Could it be? Was Madison really waiting for him by her car? Was she trying to pull a Jake Ryan on him? Was he Molly Ringwald?

          Tom, deciding that this was the beginning of a new era, a wonderful romantic subplot in his life, gingerly placed all of his collected baskets into their stack, pushed his carts into a corner, and smoothed out his vest. Maybe good things really could happen to him in GrubVille. With a newfound confidence and optimism, he strode over to the automatic doors, not even hesitating to make sure they would open in time.

          Once outside, he looked at the ground and wiggled his eyebrows around a bit, preparing a somewhat seductive smolder. He strutted to the far parking lot island which sat in the distance, obstructed by a green vehicle. As Tom rounded the side of the car, mere feet away from his destiny, he prepared himself for what he might come face to face with. Would she admit that she had loved him all this time? Pull the number two pencil out from behind her ear and tell him that she had never thrown it away— couldn’t bring herself to? He took one more step, slowly brought his eyes up from the ground, and found—

          That over the course of fifteen minutes, Madison had somehow transformed into a red, boxy vehicle, stranded on a curb. Tom nodded in acceptance. So—not only had Madison deserted him, but her grocery cart as well. She had maneuvered it up on a thicket of weeds, though the return area was just a few feet away. Tom calmly walked to the shopping cart and wheeled it down. He could hear Dan’s screams in the distance, telling him to hurry up. He could hear Chad’s tiny footsteps on the pavement, racing to finish what he’d started. There was nothing left for Tom here.

          With a final fleeting glance toward GrubVille, Tom mounted his plastic steed, shouted “Giddy up!”, and began to ride off into the sunset— toward the highway, against the wind, and with no particular destination in mind.