“I don’t understand what this has to do with the communications director position. Why exactly are we going to Walmart?” Scott sat in the passenger seat of the Model X while the interviewer, Fran Travers, drove, pulling into the farther spot from the front doors of the retail giant.

“Because I need to pick up a few things, and what we are going to discuss is all about the position, and nothing about our conversation is what I would consider private or confidential. So, are you ready?” Fran pushed a few buttons, opening the doors. A few seconds later, the car turned itself off. Fran wore a nice pair of khaki slacks and a button-up blouse, a conservative but casual look that looked very different from Scott’s three-piece suit, tie, and wingback shoes.

Fran took note of his frustration, a look she’d seen in her last three interviews. “So I need to get some milk, eggs, cheese, and snacks for my kids for school this week.” Fran didn’t carry a wallet, just a tiny bag that resembled a coin purse from the 1960s, something her mother would’ve used. “Tell me something, Scott,” she asked as they walked to the entrance. “What do you see?” They passed four people pushing carts back to their respective cars. The first is an older woman with a pug in a harness, pushing a cart with three items, all light enough to carry to the car. If she could hold the dog, she could’ve held all three items in her other hand. The second was a gruff construction worker with an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. His fingers were tapping his legs as he walked out of the store, a scowl on his face. The last person, a large man pushing his cart slowly back to his car, loaded with chips, candy, a few cases of beer, various processed meats, and three loaves of white bread. His forehead was beaded with sweat, and he looked like he was struggling with the cart.

“People coming out of Walmart, either with the things they wanted to get, or nothing at all, frustrated that they couldn’t find it.”

Fran nodded, grabbing a cart from the cart corral inside the sliding doors. “Follow me.”

Walking through the produce department, both watched the various employees stocking shelves, breaking down boxes, and changing price tags on shelves. Scott walked with his hands in the pockets of his slacks as Fran took her time, walking down each aisle and looking at various items. “What’s your favorite breakfast food?”  

“Black coffee,” Scott replied without the slightest hesitation.

“Just black coffee?” Fran asked.

“I don’t like eating anything before 10:30.”

“So you aren’t a bacon, eggs, sausage, pancakes kind of guy?” As the questions continued, Fran saw the frustration on Scott’s face. “You aren’t a waffle guy, are you, Scott?” she smiled.

“Look. It’s not like I don’t want this job, but I’m curious; how does breakfast and shopping for your children connect with the communications job?”

Several more inane questions followed between Fran getting eggs, milk, cheese, chips, fruit rollups, and a couple of yogurt cups for herself. Scott answered with one word or two, nothing of any substance. Fran mentally noted the answers and how he treated the staff inside Walmart and the other patrons they passed.

Checking out, Fran put her groceries on the belt, Scott never once offering to help. None of her interactions with Scott surprised her. Fran had four other superior applicants with shiny resumes. Scott’s resume was one of them, but she decided her interview with Scott was over the minute they got out of the Tesla. One last question needed an answer before returning to the office.

Taking the groceries out of the cart, Fran put them inside the frunk, the front trunk of the Tesla, watching Scott. He glanced around the parking lot but didn’t offer to help Fran. Opening the Tesla doors, Scott jumped in, Fran leaving the cart right next to the car. She waited to see if he would return it to the cart corral. He didn’t.

“There is a lot you can tell about a person when they are outside a workplace environment. I take interviewees here because I want to know about their character. It’s not something you can see on a resume. I’m curious, Scott. Is your frustration with the interview or me, personally?”

Scott’s face reddened. “Neither.”

“Fair enough,” Fran said, putting on her seatbelt. The drive to Fran’s office was quiet, with Scott sulking in the passenger seat. Getting out, she collected the bags from the frunk, one of her coworkers coming outside and snatching bags from her. “Let me get that, Fran,” she said, smiling. “Happy to help out!” She scurried away, leaving Fran with Scott. Fran shook Scott’s hand. “Thanks for coming in today. We’ll be in touch either way. Have a great day, Scott.”

“Wait. That’s it?” Scott halfway shouted at Fran. “An interview at Walmart, and that’s all?”

Fran smiled. “Yeah. Tells me a lot about you.”

“What do you mean? I’m a great employee.”

“Yes. All of your supervisors said as much.”

“Then why are you leaving me outside without discussing my credentials?”

“Scott, you have an excellent work history and outstanding credentials and come highly recommended by several people I know and trust. Do you remember the three people we passed?”

“You mean after we got out of your car? No. Why would I care?”

“Because I do, and I saw three struggling people, each with their own stuff. With all three of them, a smile would’ve gone a long way. I know because I did smile. Not once did you offer to help me find the things I needed, load those items into the car, or put the shopping cart back.”

“You didn’t put it back either,” Scott protested, doing his best to put it back on her.

“You are right, I didn’t. The best test of character and integrity is what someone will do when noticing a lone shopping cart at the grocery or retail store. Do you take it and put it up? Or do you push it off to the side, expecting someone else to take care of it.”

“This is all about one lone grocery cart?”

“I didn’t need those things for my kids. We needed them for the office. Jamie? She’s not an assistant to me. She’s my boss. We work together here. So, I’m sorry, Scott, but I won’t be bringing you on with us. Good luck to you.”

Fran walked back into the office, Scott kicking at the sidewalk, cursing under his breath, “A freakin’ shopping cart? Seriously?”

What about you? Would you leave a cart in the parking lot? Or return it where it belongs?

Leave your thoughts in the comments below.