Part 2: The Collapse of Civilization, One Dumpster at a Time

By a guy who has seen people miss a dumpster from three feet away and somehow blame society.

By A. Kings

Since writing Part 1, I have continued my scientific research into the growing entitlement epidemic.

By “scientific research,” I mean standing around observing people and wondering how humanity ever managed to invent electricity.

The results have been deeply disturbing.

Let’s begin with dumpsters.

Now, a dumpster is not a complicated device. It is essentially a giant metal box specifically designed to receive trash. It has one purpose. One.

every spring and fall when dumpsters come to our neighborhood, I encounter people who appear to believe the objective is to get the garbage as close to the dumpster as possible without actually putting it inside.

The result resembles an archaeological dig.

Broken furniture.

Mattresses.

Old televisions.

An entire ecosystem of discarded household items arranged around the dumpster like worshippers gathered around a sacred shrine.

The dumpster itself remains largely empty.

I can only assume these people approach it, stare thoughtfully at the opening, and think:

“That’s close enough.”

At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone abandoned a 1987 Buick beside it and called it a day.

Then there is parking.

Parking has become less of a practical exercise and more of an artistic statement.

Some people park across two spaces because they don’t want anyone scratching their vehicle.

Fair enough.

Except the vehicle in question is usually a fifteen-year-old Nissan held together by faded paint and pure optimism.

Others park diagonally.

Some park sideways.

I’ve seen vehicles positioned in ways that would leave military strategists scratching their heads.

One fellow recently parked so badly that his truck occupied one parking space, part of another, and what I believe was a neighboring ZIP code.

It looked less like parking and more like an emergency landing.

Driving, meanwhile, has evolved into a fascinating psychological experiment.

Some drivers treat neighborhood roads as if they are competing in the Monaco Grand Prix.

They accelerate toward stop signs with the enthusiasm of a fighter pilot approaching an aircraft carrier.

Children playing nearby?

Dogs being walked?

Human life in general?

Minor details.

Then you encounter the opposite species.

These drivers move at a speed normally associated with continental drift.

You get behind them and begin aging visibly.

You start the journey with dark hair and dreams.

By the time they’ve completed a left turn, you’ve qualified for Medicare.

And indicators.

Indicators deserve their own chapter.

Apparently, many modern vehicles now come equipped with turn signals that can only be activated through an advanced subscription package.

Because nobody uses them.

Instead, drivers prefer the exciting game known as “Guess What I’m About To Do.”

Will they turn left?

Will they turn right?

Will they stop suddenly?

Nobody knows.

Not even them.

Let’s move on to shopping carts.

Scientists estimate that returning a shopping cart to the designated cart return area requires approximately twelve seconds.

Yet for some people, this represents a burden comparable to crossing the Sahara Desert on foot.

So they abandon carts wherever fate may take them.

Parking spaces.

Curbs.

Grass.

Occasionally another dimension.

I’ve watched a strong, healthy adult push a fully loaded cart around an entire supermarket, load dozens of items into their car, and then suddenly become physically incapable of moving the empty cart another twenty feet.

Remarkable.

It’s a medical mystery.

Then we have the loudspeaker people.

You know them.

The ones who walk through stores having full-volume conversations on speakerphone.

Apparently private conversations are now community events.

Suddenly everyone in aisle seven knows that Sharon’s cousin is dating a mechanic, that someone’s gallbladder surgery went well, and that Aunt Carol remains furious about Thanksgiving.

Nobody asked.

Nobody cares.

Yet somehow we’re all participants.

And what is it with people watching videos in public without headphones?

Every waiting room, restaurant, airport terminal, and doctor’s office now contains one person blasting TikTok videos loud enough to communicate with satellites.

A hundred years of technological advancement brought us wireless earbuds.

And somehow we’ve decided not to use them.

Then there are elevators.

The entitlement epidemic thrives in elevators.

People stand directly in front of the doors before passengers have even exited.

The doors open and there they are.

Waiting.

Blocking.

Breathing.

Like medieval soldiers preparing to storm a castle.

The concept of letting people out first appears to have vanished entirely.

Perhaps it was removed from the school curriculum.

Speaking of public spaces, let’s discuss littering.

I witnessed a man throw a fast-food bag out of his car window recently.

Not accidentally.

Deliberately.

As if Mother Nature had personally requested extra packaging.

What goes through someone’s mind at that moment?

Do they imagine woodland creatures appearing overnight to clean up after them?

Perhaps a highly trained squirrel sanitation department?

And finally, there are the people who believe every rule applies exclusively to everyone else.

The speed limit?

For other people.

The no-smoking sign?

For other people.

The quiet hours?

For other people.

The leash requirement?

For other people.

The shopping cart return?

Definitely for other people.

These are the same individuals who would lose their minds if someone inconvenienced them for five seconds.

The modern world has become a fascinating place.

We have cars that practically drive themselves.

Phones more powerful than the computers that landed astronauts on the moon.

Access to nearly all human knowledge in our pockets.

And yet somehow a growing percentage of the population struggles with concepts like “throw trash in the dumpster” and “park between the lines.”

Perhaps that’s the real mystery.

Not whether civilization will survive.

But how civilization survived long enough for us to get here in the first place.

Still, hope remains.

For every entitled idiot blocking a road, abandoning a cart, or creating a landfill around a dumpster, there are decent people quietly doing the right thing.

Returning carts.

Cleaning up after their dogs.

Parking properly.

Using headphones.

Behaving like functioning members of society.

To those people, I salute you.

You are the thin line standing between civilization and complete chaos.

The rest of us appreciate your service.

The pigeons probably do too.

---

Thanks for dropping by my little corner of the world. If the story gave you a chuckle or made you pause and think, a like would be mighty kind. And if you’re feeling adventurous, well, hitting that subscribe button is like pulling up a chair and staying a while—always room for one more.

I subscribe back, by the way. It’s my way of saying, “Welcome to the club—snacks are in the back, good times up front!”

---

Your comments make me smile, sometimes laugh out loud, and every now and then, they nudge me to dig a little deeper, write a little better. So, stick around—who knows what we’ll stumble upon next!

---

My book, Hidden Alignment is still available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle for those interested. Link and QR code below.

Link: https://a.co/d/0enjFI6f