Alright, I give up. I’ll go to Costco.
Although not technically my first trip to Costco (I snuck in over fifteen years ago when my son had a birthday party at the nearby bowling alley and walked around the store eating free samples of all their food offerings), this was my first adventure to the mecca of shopping for massive quantities of crap nobody in their right mind needs. (My apologies to all my high school and college English instructors for that last sentence… and this one.)
We needed some basic items from the store (detergent, fabric softener, dish washing pods, napkins, toilet paper, etc.) as we always run out. You don’t want to be out of toilet paper when the time comes. So, as my wonderful daughter has a membership, I went in to get my very own card so I could join the masses who had nothing better to do than shop during Black Friday weekend.
Security is tight at our store, as are the aisles and parking lot. I entered, stated my name, and was told what to do. I felt a little like Jerry Seinfeld as he entered the Soup Nazi’s store for the first time. There is no fooling around when it comes to Costco.
I was instructed to walk through the secret passageway to the Help Desk and get signed in. I asked to get a card, showed my driver’s license, and was told to stand on the X to get my picture taken. I did so. In a quick minute, I had my Costco ID. Pure gold, Jerry, gold. I was all set. Sneaking back through the secret path, I showed the chief of security my card and smiled. She let me in.
But first, I needed a cart. She said they were right outside the entrance. I looked around the corner and saw a cart as big as my first apartment. If you put a tarp over it, three people could live there comfortably. I sighed, grabbed my cart and was off.
It’s a crowded place. I knew that. There are also tons of Costco employees everywhere asking if you want insurance, a cruise to Mexico, a ninety nine inch plasma color TV, or a sample of a gluten-free, vegan green bean smoothie but not one person in the store could tell me where the laundry detergent was.
I walked up to ask one lady who was giving away free samples of hand sanitizer where the coffee was located. I had to wait a minute because she was discussing home recipes with a fellow co-worker. She finally was done and I asked about the coffee. She gave me a look and actually huffed. (Yeah, I was surprised too.) She rolled her eyes, raised her arm, and pointed. She said, “It’s somewhere down there.” I did not see her picture at the front of the store for ‘Employee of the Month’.
When I was leaving the store, the clerk at the front door checked my receipt. I was telling her that this was my first time in the warehouse and I was hoping to get a map of where everything was in the store. She looked at me and said, “You know, that’s a great idea!” I was incredulous. How can a store the size of Montana not have something like this? Or perhaps an app to find stuff or send out a beeping signal if you’ve somehow left the county and can’t find your way home?
Obviously, I made it out. Before I left, however, I started drooling at the $1.99 hot dog and soda special just past the checkout. I hadn’t eaten lunch yet (really dumb move on my part) so I succumbed to the temptation and got a slice of pepperoni & lemonade. I made sure my cart was close by.
As I sat down eating my ‘delicious’ slice, another guy came by and asked if he could sit near me as it was crowded. I said “Absolutely.” We exchanged a few pleasantries and went back to eating. I felt like I was in the TV commercial where the lady gets a BarStucks coffee and there’s no place to sit. Another woman moved her stuff, they begin talking and now are BFF’s. (Spoiler alert, didn’t happen.)
I was almost done when another woman came by, asked the other gentleman if she could sit next to him, with her back to me. He said yes. As she had her back to me, I said, “Aren’t you going to ask me? I have to sit and look at your back!” She laughed. (I’m such the comedian.)
I threw my napkins away and headed to my car with the jumbo shopping cart secure in the knowledge that we would not soon be out of toilet paper, napkins, or fabric softener.
As I unloaded all my purchases into the back of my HRV, I’m just wondering how the three-pound container of M&M’s got into my cart.
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