When no one's watching

Most supermarkets require a pound coin to unlock a trolley. When you return the trolley, you get your coin back. It’s a simple system that keeps things in order. People bring the trolleys back instead of leaving them scattered around the car park—or worse, taking them home, which I remember seeing years ago when I lived in an area where that happened often.

But it seems that some supermarkets don’t have this system at all. There is no coin, you can just pick up a trolley…. and this made me pause.

What happens then?

I haven’t come across any articles or research about it. It just left me with a quiet question:

What do we do when we have nothing to gain… and when there are no consequences?

Do we take the trolley back because it's the right thing to do, knowing that someone else will have to deal with it if we don’t? A member of staff, another shopper, someone trying to park?

Or do we simply carry on with our day, not even thinking about it—just returning to the car, driving off, forgetting the trolley completely?

It makes me reflect on this deeper question:

Who are we when nobody's watching?

How many of our actions are motivated by reward or punishment—something to gain or something to lose?

And how many come from a deeper place in us—a sense of care, integrity, consideration?

I’m actually writing this from the gym (I know, I should probably get back to my leg presses soon). But I had to write these thoughts down before I forgot them.

I look around and notice things… Weights left on the floor. Bars resting on the walls instead of being returned to the racks. No mats downstairs because they’ve all been left upstairs. It’s not a big deal, but still—it makes me think.

What if more of us acted like someone was watching? Or better said—what if more of us acted like we cared?

The world would probably be a little less messy. Not just the visible mess, but the subtle mess we leave behind when we stop caring about the small things.

I can’t control what others do. But I can take responsibility for myself.

And ask myself gently—

Where in my life do I behave like there’s no coin to collect?

Where do I leave little messes behind—emotional or physical—thinking they don’t matter?

Where do I expect someone else will clean up after me, or carry the weight I didn’t return?

And more importantly—

Where can I show up with more care, even when no one sees it?

Not because I have something to gain.

But because it feels good to live in a way that’s thoughtful, caring, and kind.

I don’t always get it right.

But I try.

And that trying… that awareness… is also a kind of love.

Love,

Rosie x