When I was a kid, my mom once asked me if I wanted to go throughout town with her while she bought my father’s underwear and filled the car with gas. I didn’t respond. What did she want me there for? What sort of dilemmas was she planning on running into out there, and how was I supposed to help? I imagined her sitting at a gas pump on a busy afternoon, cars lined up around the corner honking at her, a finger pressed thoughtfully to her chin thinking to herself, “Should I get regular or premium gas? Oh, how can anyone know which one to choose? If only my 9-year-old was here with me. He’d know what to do.” I stared at her until she shrugged her shoulders and walked away. I then turned back to my Nintendo 64 and led Link through the water temple.

Since then I’ve tried to stay away from crowds as much as possible, but I become a downright hermit during Christmas season. Somehow we’ve managed to both rush around from store to store and then leisurely peruse the unneeded product nobody really desires, but everyone really wants.

Yes, I guess there are certain places where moseying is appropriate—Main Street at high noon before a revolver duel and down to the ice cream parlor after an early dinner. Yet the only place people seem to want to mosey through is Costco with extended family. How many people does it take to buy the family’s groceries? One, max. The family’s senile dog suffering from hip dysplasia even has the ability to complete this task, and yet, for some reason, people want to bring their children, siblings and parents with them to waste their lazy Saturdays perusing a warehouse, filling their carts with the same old items. The old adage has never been more true: Misery loves company.

If my recent excursions to Costco have been any indication of today’s youth, it seems when asked if they’d like to go shopping, they respond with a hearty, “Yeah, Mom!” The generation that has never had more entertainment at its fingertips is bored with it already? I don’t get it. Why doesn’t Grandma stay at home and watch episodes of “Antiques Roadshow” while the kids illegally download pirated video games and movies like normal people? I know you think your family’s pleasant to be around, so you want to flaunt them to the public. Don’t kid yourself. We all think they’re the worst, even if we smile when Junior is having a fit. Yes, your lack of discipline is very charming.

I can already hear a few readers retorting, “Some people don’t have sitters. Some people are forced to bring their kids with them.”

I don’t have a problem with a mom and her kids. I get that. Just keep their little limbs away from my cart. I won’t stop, especially if I run over them. My issue is with eight-person families strolling through the lanes arm in arm like we’re in a game of red rover, parking their carts in the most inconvenient places just to filch a sample of salt-injected salami medallions or a half-teaspoon shot of organic almond milk. Go home. Who are these monsters?

And really, we can substitute Costco with any retailer—the issue’s the same. Most people today are incredibly greedy and inconsiderate. Look at Black Friday, the devil’s holiday. People die on Black Friday, mostly from getting trampled. Stop. Think about this for a moment. In 2012, people in the U.S. were trampled to death for a couple hundred dollars off a flat-screen TV, by people who probably own at least two TVs and have three old computer monitors tucked away in their linen closets.

The first question asked in my senior year economics class was, “How much is your time worth?” We had to respond with an hourly figure. Most people threw out responses around $50 an hour. To me, my time was and still is priceless. It’s something I’ll never get back. Why people spend a fortune at a camping supply store for tents to sleep on Best Buy’s sidewalk, beginning on Monday and missing Thanksgiving dinner for a cheap mid-range laptop is beyond me. Do they realize in the process of saving $300 after 96 hours of waiting they’ve told their managers at Wal-Mart $3.12 an hour is an appropriate wage to pay? I can only hope not.