I love the fact that I can buy so many of our family’s sundries at such great prices – I even love the fact that everything in the store is mega-sized, it doesn’t bother me that I have to buy 1lb of mustard at a time or that a pack of deodorant contains enough sticks to last me 3 years.
What I hate is the ‘I can’t afford NOT to buy this’ spell I fall under every time I enter those air-blown warehouse doors. $6 for 4 jars of pasta sauce!? I’ll take it! $4 for a whole rotisserie chicken!? Throw it in the cart! A 10,000 pack of post-it notes for just a few bucks!? Sure, why not!! A TV console marked down $100!? (rubbing my eyes…really!??) Hey, at that price, I can’t afford not to buy it!
I enter Costco with such joy, eyes spinning like slots in Vegas, trying to take in all of the new inventory (‘cause there’s always something new at Costco) – I pile my cart so high that I can hardly make the turn to the checkout line, I sneakily eyeball everyone else’s booty to make sure I didn’t miss any hidden treasures, I proudly stack all of my great finds on the conveyor belt, flash my ‘I’m so cool’ membership card for all to see…beep. Beep, beep. Beep. Beep, beep, beep, beep…uhhhh, maybe I went a little over board??? Beep. Beep, beep, beep…That’s when the hate side of the relationship starts to build – when that total flashes, in the blink of any eye, across the cashier’s display screen -- and I am, by the way, convinced that the Costco cash registers process faster than any other register on purpose…so that the shock of your total doesn’t hit you until you stare blankly at the employee who is charged with checking your receipt at the exit… Are they there just to rub in the fact that because it takes him/her soooo long to inventory your receipt (looking over, under and sideways through your cart) that you probably/most definitely just became another Costco victim??
And, then I leave. Tail between my legs. Shoving giant boxes of goldfish, contact solution, ballpoint pens, diapers and frozen chicken breasts into any open space of my car. Driving my loot home, rear of my car sagging under the weight of buyer’s remorse – it hits me: ‘that dang Costco got me again!’
But, this whole Costco phenomenon is a lot like childbirth…you swear you will never do it again for all of the pain and discomfort it caused you, but then you find yourself saying a few weeks later: ‘hey, are we out of Kleenex??? Yeah? Ok, well I’ll make a Costco run tomorrow, write down what you need on my list’ …and it starts all over again…