I Just Want to Say: Costco

(Title of post is adapted from a chapter title in Nora Ephron's book, I Remember Nothing. The book is hilarious and I highly recommend you read it, by the way.)

I had the unfortunate luck of having to get some groceries at Costco recently. Recently, as in today. Today being a Saturday. Hence, the unfortunate part.

My theory about Costco is that you either are 98% in love with the place, or you mostly hate it. I'm in the second category. Here's why...

The carts. The Costco carts are huge. Yes, I get that they should be because you are going to walk in and buy enormous quantities of stuff you mostly don't need. Admit it, some of it you weren't planning to buy at all but you walked down the aisles and went, "Oh! Look at that! A flat of canned tomatoes! What a deal!" and you threw the flat of canned tomatoes into the cart happy as a clam.
You can't get around anyone quickly in these monster carts. They don't turn on a dime . The aisles are barely wide enough to fit two carts side by side. And God help you if you are in the area between the refrigerated cheeses and frozen food sections where they have set up sample after sample of processed foods where everyone is noshing down goodies.
You can't get around the large people with your carts either. Especially when they stop to admire the deal, then debate if the item is something they really need while standing 2 feet away from their cart, blocking you from zooming past.
And some people use the carts simply to transport their children that are perfectly capable of walking because they are 8 and 10 years old. The kids have made a nest in the cart and think it's hilarious to curl up on the bottom and play games like "How to be really annoying to their parents in Costco".
The carts blow.

Sidenote: (Look! A picture of baby Wren that is so similar to Ellie!)

The people. I was alluding to this above. Costco brings out irritable sides of people, sort of like Ikea breaks families apart. (Anyone see that episode of 30 Rock? Hilarious because we all knew it was true.)
The vast majority of people that shop at Costco are not individuals, but groups or pairs. Pairs of couples in relationships. Moms and daughters. Parents and their kids. Parents and their kid's kids. It's like the card forces you to come with someone else. It's as if the savings require two people to push two carts for all the stuff. Or new parents to push one stroller and one cart each. This leads to major congestion.
And the people don't come with lists. I never ever see people shopping with a Costco grocery list. They know of the few things they want, but then spend the rest of their time debating arguing with the person they are with about whether or not they need that particular item.
"Hey, they have the whole box set of The Hunger Games here. We should get that. That's a great deal."
"We already have the first book. We don't need to buy the whole set now, just buy the rest of them some other time."
"But it's cheaper to buy the whole set together, we need to get this. I really want to read them now."
"We didn't come here for that today. Let's get it another time."
"But then it will be gone!" And so the argument goes..

Or my personal favourite. People stand in the way, ogling at items on the shelves, sort of in a dazed trance and forget that there are other people around them trying to get the h-e-double hockey sticks outta there as fast as possible. Move! I know what I want even if you don't! Yes, this is a race, have you seen the check out lines?!?!?
My happy place is the far back corner next to the flats of pop. It's so.quiet.there.

But it all begins at the parking lot. Oh that horrific parking lot. We have actually come to 100 meters of Costco, see the packed parking lot in the distance, and screeched around the corner, feeling like we nearly dodged death right there. Some days aren't worth the fight.

Like I said earlier, Costco can tear families apart. That place doesn't always bring out the best in people. Take today for example. I overheard two parents with their toddler in an aisle...
Mom- "You seem to think it's always sooOOOoo easy, so here, you take her!" as she passes cranky child to the father. "Let's just get our stuff and GO."

The bill at the checkout. You spend and hour of your afternoon trying to nab all the "sweet" savings at Costco, only to wait another hour in the checkout despite your best efforts to go at a "slower" time such a Monday afternoon. There is no such thing as a slow time at Costco, you are delusional.

So you wait with your cranky child and your baby that needs to be breastfed this instant and is upset at the soother you are trying to shove in her mouth until it's finally your turn to unload the groceries on the belt. 

As you load your groceries and God knows what else that isn't a food item like you promised yourself, you begin to sweat. You look at the things you put down and realize they are all jumbo sized. You realize that the flat of 88 nectarines you are about to buy will all ripen at the exact same second on your counter and that you and your family won't be able to eat them fast enough because you also have a jumbo size container of grapes, blueberries and a watermelon the size of a basketball to bring home as well. You panic because you know you don't need this much stuff and yet the deals were not to be passed up. You begin running through a list of people in your head that you hope could use some extra fruit this week so that you don't feel bad that you have to throw out half of it when your family failed at consuming it all.

Then there are your non-food related purchases like that pair of yoga pant capris that you thought would be a good idea and a sweater that your mom probably already has so now you and your mom can accidentally match the next time you go out shopping together to a real clothing store. You wonder if you can subtly pull some things off the belt without the teller noticing, but they are so fast and efficient and already asking you if you want to upgrade to the Executive Membership card that you are distracted and now they're asking you how you'd like to pay your bill of $489.53.

Then you faint.

But, if you're like me, you have a list and know what you want. You zoom around trying to grab it all, timing yourself to break an old record to get back to the car as fast as possible. But then you stop...do we need toilet paper? Argh, can't remember. Wait, are we all out of dish soap? Probably. Pick it up. Pick it up NOW so you don't have to come back to this nightmare!! you tell yourself.

You get home, and your husband (if he's at home with the kids because he couldn't bear the thought of stepping in that place today), helps you unload the car. You know with each bag he carries inside he is wondering how much the total was today. He sees the yoga pants hanging out of the top of the bag and you can actually feel the sigh coming.
You put away everything only to find that you had 3/4's of a bag left of toilet paper, a full container of dish soap and a million nectarines now sitting on the counter about to be devoured by fruit flies in exactly 3 days.

Then you "forget" where the bill went and hope you don't get asked for it until several weeks later when no one will care anymore. You vow to do better next time. But you know you won't.

Here are the most common lines that run through my head when I am in Costco, maybe you can identify:

"Are you serious??"

"Honestly, WTF."

"This isn't worth it!"

"I could be at Superstore perusing the Joe clothing and makeup instead."

Everyone has their own worst nightmare circumstance. I have two: getting stuck in an off-leash dog park, or Costco. 

*This post was entirely written in my head as I shopped in Costco today. It begged to be shared. This is the edited version.*