Yeah, so I already wrote this in my LiveJournal. So sue me. It's not like you're paying for it.

One afternoon, at about 4:30 or 5:00, I was working in housewares as usual when I heard someone page me (that hardly ever happens), saying, "John in housewares, please come to the front of the store for shopping carts. John, to the front to get carts." (from the parking lot.) I had never done that before, except like twice the first summer I worked at another Wal-Mart, but that time, someone actually told me what to do, and I knew where to bring them, and I think I had someone help me escort a long train of carts inside; also, occasionally I have seen people working in pairs at this Wal-Mart to bring in long trains of carts; so when they called me to the front, I fully expected there to be someone waiting for me, perhaps with several other people, to organize some team effort in pushing carts in from the parking lot.

But no. I didn't want to do it anyway, because I'm just stubborn and kind of lazy when it comes to summer jobs, and I didn't want to be forced to break out of my rut and learn something new. (I hear a moral coming onnnn...) So I went to the service desk, pretending not to have heard why I was paged. They called the person to ask, and told me it was for shopping carts, and I didn't know where to go or what to do, and these people couldn't even tell me where to go. I assumed it was one of the two entrances, where I'd find someone. I walked to the left, no one; I walked all the way to the right, and then out the door into the parking lot, and no one was to be found pushing carts (which I guess is why they called me!). So I went merrily on my way back to housewares to do my normal perfunctory duties (hey, look, a GRE word!). About two hours later, I happened upon a couple managers talking to probably Tina and Becky in housewares, and I walked up to them to ask a question for a customer. After that, they asked me in a slightly displeased and unsatisfied way, "Did you hear you were called to get carts earlier?" And I said yes but I didn't know what to do or how to do it. They said, this time in a sort of condescending way, You just go gather both stray carts and the carts that are already in their corrals, and push them inside. (Actually, I bet they were even less specific than that. "Where exactly do they go? I think I know. How long should I do it? How many should I get? Thanks for the help!")

So I went outside with a bit of a bad attitude, thinking, Fine, I'll go outside and push carts to my little heart's content. It's 6:00 now—it might just take me 5 hours to get done bringing in carts! You didn't say when to stop! You said get carts, period. So that's what I'll do.

And naturally, when I got way out to the far end of the parking lot, with the pleasant, warm, dusk air, and no bustle of carts and people, and none of that incredibly annoying intercom-lady's voice, and especially no customers to pester me with questions I don't know the answers to, I loved it! I guess most of my friends know I like solitude a lot. (I always loved Schopenhauer's saying, "He who does not enjoy solitude will not love freedom.") I was all alone, doing this thing completely on my own, in my own way, at my own pace, and no one was around to bother me! I think if I had only gotten the carts that were in the overflowing corrals near the entrance, I wouldn't have liked it as much, because being way up at the back of the parking lot is much different from the front.

I did this for a good hour and a half, making myself tired, hot, and sweaty in the process. I rounded up bunches of stray carts that lazy people (possibly the same lazy people from above!) and rednecks and other general lowlifes had left in the middle of the parking lot, connected them in series of 8 or so, and slowly guided them to the front. Then I went back up top and gathered a few more. Then I took a few that were already in corrals. I was kind of bad at it, but I wasn't in a hurry. I was happy, and I was at ease, and I enjoyed it. Luckily, by the time I was tired and annoyed enough at these difficult carts to not like it so much anymore, it was high time for lunch (which is dinner, but that's the lingo).

So anyway, as you already surmised, the moral of the story is you should approach new situations and new experiences not with misgivings, distrust, and a bad attitude (and, as I so often do, stubbornness), but with...the opposite of those things. (Hey, I haven't mastered my vocabulary words yet.) Also solitude is usually a good thing. It's never terrible to be all alone with your thoughts and emotions.