Jeans

Sometimes when I work at Target, they make go out into the parking lot and collect shopping carts until the store closes. When they do this they give me a walkie-talkie (sweet) and a really cool beat-up reflective vest (so indie). Then they refer to me a the Cart Attendant. When they do this, it gives me a lot of time to evaluate my life to this point, but mostly to sing the same lyric that is stuck in my head over and over again. During this time, I have decided that I no longer want to be called a cart attendant. I would prefer to be called a Cart Wrangler. You see, carts are like cows. Actually they are not. But I still collect them and put them back in the places.