“Five stars for persistence,” Béatrice said, taking hold of the supermarket cart.

She had come in only for milk and tea, but the cart’s front left wheel was stuck sideways. At the first turn, it headed firmly toward the potatoes. Béatrice pulled it back, the wheel squeaked, and her elbow caught a net bag of potatoes. She grabbed it near the floor and put it in the cart. It was no longer an accident. It was a purchase.

To balance the potatoes, Béatrice placed a five-liter bottle of water on the right. The cart did go straight, but only when she pushed it quickly. Beside a display of paper towels, the bottle shifted, the cart spun around, and gently knocked three rolls into the aisle. Béatrice loaded them inside because, under the supervision of that wheel, she no longer trusted herself to return them to the display.

She reached the checkout by walking backward; in reverse, the cart rolled perfectly. Béatrice bought the milk, tea, potatoes, water, and paper towels, then posted her review that evening: “Spacious, sturdy, and prepares its own shopping list. Not recommended for forward travel. Flawless for reverse parking.” She kept the five stars. After all, an opening promise should be honored.