10 a.m.: Standing outside and waiting for the doors to open with tons of people all around itching to get in as soon as possible. You would think I am in line for concert tickets… but I am in front of Costco. People will soon be using their over-sized shopping carts as battering rams to pummel their way through the enormous crowds just to get inside. Once those doors open, people forget how to behave and push their way through the doors and shove anyone in their way, starting arguments over who gets to show their little executive gold card first.
Once inside, there is chaos as if this were a timed shopping spree, and you have five minutes left to get every last thing possible in your basket. There are also those people who just stand around staring at the price tags, getting lost in some small world, and no matter how many times you say, “excuse me,” you are forced to move and grab what you need, even if they get upset. Once you get your shit, it is time to jam up the front lines. As you make your way through the crowd of idiots who leave their shopping carts and screaming babies in the middle of the isle, you come upon the checkout lines. Everyone is making a beeline for the front and it’s like a sprint to the finish line. Normal people become extremely rude in Costco and lose all sense of social norms; they cut right in front of you while staring you down as if you were the one in the wrong. You’ve got two choices: stand there confused and move on, or, my personal favorite, flip them off, call them a vicious name and forward march.
Since this is a warehouse store, there are about 15 (give or take five) checkout lines and somehow, no matter what time of day or how many people are there, only five of the check stands are open. It takes four Costco employees to tally up your dues; one of them to price scan, one of them to literally throw your eggs into your basket and the other two to stand there pointlessly. While the four of them giggle about something dumb, they get mad at you if you are not on top of your game and forget to give them your Costco card when you were the third person in line. The dreaded total is something I fear the most when going there, because it doesn’t matter if I go in for one thing or a million things; somehow I end up spending at least $100 each time. All I wanted was a handle of vodka and a 36-pack of beer. Where the hell did these rolled-up sandwiches, chips and cranberry juice come from? At least now you can pay with a bank ATM card. I remember back in the day (according to Dane Cook, that was a Wednesday) when all they took was cash or check or you put your groceries back. So not only do you have to stand in a two-hour-long checkout line, but there is also one final slap to the face – the line just to get out. Those minions at the door who take your receipt, look at it, look at you and then draw a line through it.
Wow, what a freaking waste of time! I despise Costco, yet I keep going back! We have a love/hate relationship.
I even have to go back this Saturday to prepare for my BBQ bash on Sunday….