I’m a card-carrying member of a cult: Costco
For some time now, I have been in a cult. In deep. It’s taken a lot of my money from me. My wife accepts this, although she tries to dissuade me from communing with my fellow worshippers, I mean, shoppers.
“You don’t want to go to Costco on a weekend, it’s too crowded.” Is Lourdes too crowded? The Western Wall? The Wizarding World of Harry Potter™?
She thinks I buy things there we don’t need. One thing’s for sure, we’ll never need to buy AA batteries again. Even if I live to be 137, my nose-hair trimmer will have all the power it needs.
Costco nuts are everywhere. How can you spot us? Naming one’s first child Kirkland, Costco’s house brand, is one sure giveaway. I didn’t dare suggest this—a decision I to this day regret. Let me ask our firstborn about it.
“Eddie, would you have preferred the name Kirkland?”
“Wouldn’t be too bad,” he answered, “I could just go by ‘Kirk.’”
See? If you are about to name a child, male or female, think about it. It’s better than Olivia and Liam, the current favorites. And it sends a signal to Costco corporate leadership that you are all in.
We are also the people on the street who will buttonhole you about the latest great buy we made. By now most of my neighbors will suddenly remember they have something to do when I start recounting my purchase of a bag of asparagus big enough to feed Duluth. Surprisingly, they find this uninteresting, the same reaction I might have when someone starts talking about professional hockey or lawn dethatching. But others will look at me knowingly, making a mental note to stock up on their next visit.
I would be, perhaps, more popular with my neighbors if I lived in Hawaii. Twenty-five percent of the people who live there are members. Costco is first in the hearts and minds of the 50th state.
This is because Hawaii, as anyone who has visited will tell you, is expensive. Everything costs about 25% more there, including gas. But not at Costco, my friends. And yeah, Costco sells gas. As Hawaii regularly top the U.S. happiness polls, I would suspect there is a correlation. This is a population of people buying a decent hot dog and a soda with unlimited refills for $1.25. It makes them feel good about life. Nitrates, sugar, and saving money, the happiness trifecta.
I haven’t even mentioned the large rotisserie chicken for $4.95.
Or the 50-bag box of microwave popcorn for $9.99.
Or bananas so cheap, you could basically eat for free, if you only ate bananas. Hmm.
I admit that you can take your enthusiasm too far. During the pandemic, friends of mine even more passionate about the store than I decided they had to get to their beloved shopping grounds. Pre-virus, they would visit twice a week. They assured their daughter they would be masked.
“Great,” she replied. “On your epitaph I will write: They died the way they lived: at Costco.”
Well, we all have to go. While I am in no rush, expiring at Costco wouldn’t be so bad, as long as I had already cashed my yearly rebate check.
But before that happens, I will keep wandering the aisles in search of something I don’t really need but can’t resist, until God-willing I reach the age of Methuselah. You’ll recognize me. I’ll be the old guy with the well- trimmed nose hairs.
