December 28, 2007


(For your convenience, I've decided to fill this with Wikipedia links.)

Don't get me wrong, I like Costco. There are lots of things to like about it. Them. Itthem.

I like that I can go there and basically be fed an entire meal of free samples.
I like 30-packs of dress shirts and obscenely large tubs of mayonnaise. I like that I can buy them, and get new tires in the same store.
I like their assortment of cheeses.
I like that, for the most part, the people who work there know how to help you.
I like their lower drug prices, since I don't have insurance.

The whole buy-in-bulk philosophy is funny to me. Generally, you don't need to shop at Costco unless you have a huge family or run a cafe or something. You can buy very large sacks of rice there. I had a roommate last year who had a membership. He would go there and get vast amounts of food, and he was a single guy. He was always willing to share, but he bought things that no one else in the house really wanted. I remember he bought a very large tub of pierogies. Pierogies are always a bit of a disappointment to me, they look delicious but turn out to be subpar. Anyway, we didn't help him with them and I think they all went bad. He would also come home with packages of 36 apples, large quantities of eggs, and very large milk jugs, none of which did we assist him in consuming. So a lot of his groceries went bad. If you're in charge of feeding yourself, don't buy large quantities of things that go bad.

I do not like being an outsider. Some time ago, I got my mother a membership there, and put the second card in my dad's name. For the most part, I was free to come and go with their membership card, and no one asked questions. All the while, I knew I was getting away with something. Then one day it all fell apart. They carded me, and I failed to prove I was Sharon Gamble. Still, they were gracious enough to let me make my purchases and let me go. A guy in a suit confiscated my dad's card and told me he could get it back next time he came in. Presumably, they drew a frowny face on it and pinned it to a naughty customer bulletin board somewhere.

I still have to go to the pharmacy there, and ever since they took away my dad's card it feels like I'm trying to get into a club I'm not good enough for. They position their guards (fifty year-old woman guards) at the door, and make you show your card. One time I went to visit their cell phone counter, and they sent a babysitter with me to make sure I didn't ogle their merchandise without permission. She thought it was ridiculous, too. I don't like the idea of having bouncers at retail places. Then again, if I was an actual card-entitled member, I'd probably like that very much. Gotta keep out the sample-grabbing riffraff. Nothing makes me feel more important than entitlement.

No comments: