That’s when I saw him.

He had just exited his SUV, parked directly in front of a sign clearly indicating the illegality of said park job. I don’t know whether he saw the sign, but I do know it would have been kind of hard to miss.

At this point, you’re probably worried. Worried about what this guy might be blocking — a fire hydrant, maybe a driveway. Worried about how much his ticket might cost — poor guy. That sucks, right?

But fret not, dear reader: He had his hazard lights on! It’s OK, really. No trouble here, folks — he’s acknowledging his boneheaded parking, so it’s quite alright.

What the hell makes someone think this is OK? This guy parked his car, drew attention to himself by flipping on these bright orange, flashing lights, and walked away. Two blocks away. It’s not like he was getting out to drop something in a mailbox eight feet away.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been prompted to vent in writing about this subject. As a columnist for the school paper in college, I wrote about this same matter in what I believe was my first column at that paper. I went back and reread it, and though it’s a bit amateurish, it’s pretty amusing, if I do say so myself.

You can read it here (see page 8 in the PDF, labeled as 9 in on the printed page). It’s probably worth checking out, if for no other reason than to see the awesome hair I was rockin’.

Photo courtesy of ettlz on Flickr

During my last visit (a quick trip to find some ciabatta bread; the Breadsmith was out!), though, I noticed a few things that bugged me. The magic of WordPress lets me get these things off my chest and, simultaneously, creates the illusion that people are listening and actually care. So here goes nothin’.

Dear Kowalskians:

Your fancy ceramic tiles in the store are nice and all, so congrats on that. But have you ever actually stood in a grocery store with hard tile floors? I was there for about five minutes and started to get a headache from the noise of the carts rattling all over the place. And if I were pushing a cart, it would have been the retail equivalent of driving over those grooves carved into the side of the freeway to wake me up before I veer off the road. Unnecessary.

Remember above when I said something about this being a “quick trip”? I lied. Admittedly, it was during the post-work, cookin’-dinner evening rush, but I quickly grabbed one thing and then waited in the express check-out line. One more time: I waited. In the express line. In a store like yours, where it seems a lot more folks are carrying little baskets than pushing big, full carts, maybe it makes sense to have more than one express line. After all, when there’s six folks in line, it quickly ceases to be “express.”

Of course, those things little nits at which I’m picking, making arguably too big a deal about too little. But there’s another thing that really bothers me, and I think it’s a bigger deal: the silly arrangement of your check-out lines. You know, that wall of magazines and impulse bait you have that separates the cashier’s side of the register from the customer’s side.

Here’s why it’s silly: I have to wait in line several feet behind away from both the cashier and my designated “stand here while you pay” spot. Then, when it’s my turn, I have to approach the cashier with my goods, back up three feet, and walk down the other side to my pay spot. Meanwhile, while I approached the cashier with my goods, the over-eager customer in line behind me has already started shoving forward, so I have to squeeze between her and the magazine rack to jump over to my side of the aisle.

It’s logistical chaos. And the worst part is, I see absolutely no purpose for it. I hope I’m missing something, but even if I am, it better be something big because this is just silly.

</rant>

Photo (of the Kowalski’s in my home town of Lakeville) courtesy of Bill Roehl on Flickr