This morning I received an email with a video attachment that hit close to home.

The short clip showed a young woman loading groceries into her SUV. She finished, then shoved the empty shopping cart across the open parking space next to hers, turned away, and got in her car. The cart stopped when it hit the side of the next vehicle – which happened to be a black and white police car.

The officer got out, walked the cart over to her vehicle, and instructed her to open her window. He tried to explain what she had done, she argued back, not listening. The policeman removed his handcuffs from his belt. He locked one on her door handle, one on the shopping cart, said “Have a nice day,” and walked away. The video was entitled “Instant Justice.” I loved it. I reminded me of what happened last week.

For two different medical reasons, I have a handicapped parking hangtag. When I pulled into the last designated space at Walmart, the woman in the regular parking space next to me was finishing unloading her groceries. I shut my car down, reached across for my purse, then tried to open my driver door. It was blocked by her empty shopping cart. One of those huge, feed-a-family-of-7-with-two-Dobermans-sized carts. Across the width of her car, I could see her hopping in. I lowered my window, discovered I couldn’t budge the cart by myself, and waved both arms. “Hello, helloooo, helloooooo.” Either she heard the desperation, or she caught a glimpse of the flailing, white-haired hysteric in the Honda.

I was grateful she got the message and came back between our cars. She grudgingly pushed the cart forward three feet, leaving it beside my front fender. “Sorry,” she muttered and walked away. When I got out, I spotted the cart corral directly behind us.

I had worried what her reaction might be. I spoke nicely and thanked her, but hey, ya never know any more. Would she be apologetic and courteous or rude and profane? Maybe everyone having the ability to record on their cell phones has tamed some of the aggressors.

As I pushed the cart into the store, I thought about all the parking lots we use. I hadn’t really considered them as battles arenas for cart wars.

I think Aldi, the German grocer, has solved the problem in a way Americans understand: Bribe them. They essentially say, “Use our carts for free, but we want a deposit. You may have your quarter back when you return the cart to the corral.”

Imagine. A measly quarter. And yet it keeps us all in line, returning the carts. No door dents, no blocked spaces, no hot tempers, no F-bombs or extended digits. Civilized. Put your quarter in, do your thing, get your quarter back. Genius.

I’ve even observed over the years a kindness evolution in the Aldi parking lot. Since I always had a quarter ready in my hand, it seemed easy to offer it to someone finished with their cart before they returned it to the corral. But years ago, one lady wouldn’t accept my coin. “Be my guest,” she said. I felt warm inside for the rest of the day.

Naturally, I paid it forward that afternoon, and now, on every shopping trip I try to do the same. It’s not about nobility or the quarter… it’s about the same warm feeling from that first day, and I’ve watched it grow. It’s such a simple little gesture, and some people even stop to chat. Aldi doesn’t care – their parking lot is still free of runaway carts. And maybe contented shoppers buy more.

Years ago, I lived in a little rural town in Connecticut. I shopped at an independent market with a smallish parking lot. Many scattered carts would have ruined parking availability, so they appealed to their patrons’ better natures. They posted a blue sign across the top of the store splashed with clouds. It stated: “Be an Angel and bring a cart in with you.” The word angel was topped with a gold gilt halo. And boy, did their suggestion work.

I was a young mother, always hauling a purse, a tote bag, and an increasingly heavy baby carrier. Shoppers often walked over to me to hand off their cart. It was easier for them not to return it, and much easier for me not to schlepp my load across the lot. I never forgot Southbury Market’s “Be an Angel” instruction. It was as if the entire store and I had a bond to treat each other nicely.

Sometimes we just need to be asked to do something nice – to nudge our good instincts. I’d like to feel that more often. It would be so much better than dreading road rage in the parking lot. Maybe if I just stand outside with a few rolls of quarters ….

Marcy O’Brien lives in Warren, Pa., and is a member of the National Society of Newspaper Columnists. She may be reached at Moby.32@hotmail.com