I’m not the smartest person. Not even close. But I’m also not the dumbest person. I think. Maybe. The jury’s still out, and frankly, I’m not smart enough to serve on that jury.
I do, however, really like smart people.
I like people who understand quantum physics even though there’s absolutely no way they could get me to understand it. They could use puppets, interpretive dance, or those little plastic atoms on sticks from high school chemistry class — doesn’t matter. My brain would still make the Windows shutdown noise.
I like people who can contemplate the vast expanse of the universe without their heads spinning. Meanwhile, I think about space for thirty seconds and suddenly I’m staring at the ceiling wondering if we’re all just thoughts in some cosmic being’s shower, and whether that cosmic being also forgot what they were thinking about mid-shower.
I like people who understand knots and how to tie them. I’ve watched the same YouTube tutorial for a bowline seven times and I still tie my shoes like a six-year-old.
I like smart people who read the directions before they try to do something. I am not one of these people. I have built entire IKEA shelves backwards. Twice. The same shelf. I took it apart and rebuilt it incorrectly in a different way.
I like smart people who think about the consequences of their actions before they jump in. I once painted myself into a corner. Literally. Not metaphorically. I had to wait three hours for the floor to dry while sitting on my kitchen counter eating cereal directly from the box.
I like smart people who don’t react on emotion. I have yelled at inanimate objects. My printer knows what it did.
I like smart people who really, truly understand financial markets. I thought “diversifying my portfolio” meant buying different flavors of the same frozen pizza.
I like smart people who try to save the world. I’m just trying to remember where I parked.
I like smart people who spend their lives looking for answers in science and research, while I spend mine looking for my phone. It’s in my hand. It’s always in my hand.
I like smart people who discover and invent new things. I once “invented” a sandwich that already existed. It’s called a club sandwich. I was very proud of myself.
I like smart people who believe in evidence. Who are willing to accept new evidence and adapt their beliefs instead of doubling down like they’re defending their fantasy football lineup.
Smart people make the world better. They solve impossible problems while I’m still trying to open childproof caps.
That said.
You know who I don’t understand?
People who don’t return their shopping carts.
Especially — and I cannot stress this enough — especially the people who park in the farthest spot from the store and then leave the cart right there next to their car, abandoned at the edge of the parking lot like a metal monument.
Think about it. They specifically chose the farthest spot. They walked all the way to the store. They shopped. They walked all the way back. They loaded their groceries into their car — which takes more effort than pushing an empty cart twenty feet.
But returning the cart? That’s beneath them.
These are the same people who treat “15 items or less” as a suggestion. Who reply-all to company-wide emails to say “thanks.” Who microwave fish in the office break room.
The only people who get a pass on the cart thing are the ones who physically can’t return them. Everyone else — you’re not just leaving a cart. You’re leaving a small confession about your character at the far end of the parking lot.
And while we’re at it: zipper merge, people. It’s not complicated. It’s literally in the name. You know what happens when a zipper doesn’t zip right? Your fly is down. Don’t be the open fly of traffic.
No, you are not special enough to drive around the entire line of cars and cut in at the front. And I’d bet actual money that the Venn diagram of “people who don’t return their carts” and “people who cut the merge line” is basically a circle.
And finally: people who use their phone as a screen while driving. You’re piloting a two-ton machine at 60 mph, and you’re watching TikTok? I can’t even walk and text without running into a pole.
So yes, I like smart people. I admire them. I aspire to their level of patience and curiosity.
But mostly I like decent people. The ones who return their carts. Who zipper merge. Who put their phones down. Who understand that civilization is basically a collective agreement to occasionally do mildly inconvenient things so the rest of us can get on with our day.
You don’t need to understand quantum physics to be a good person. You just have to walk the cart back.
— Signed, the old man yelling at kids on his lawn
Even that's Odd 
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