Costco

Find me a retail experience where the customers are less respectful to one another or less attentive to their environment than at Costco. It can’t be done.

I made the trip yesterday, because I apparently had to have a 40-roll pack of Charmin Ultra toilet paper and the 3-CD Best of CCR.

I like the idea of Costco, and the thought of the potential savings benefits that can be had when one doesn’t add superfluous items to his cart (anything with John Fogerty’s voice, for example). What I dislike is the zoned-out bargain-hunting masses who plod up and down the middle of the aisles, talking on their 2001 Nokia cell phones, prohibiting anyone from going around them. Did I mention the size of the shopping carts? They’re huge. Of course, they have to be. You can buy a treehouse fort and a wide-screen TV at Costco.

What could’ve been a 10-minute visit clocked in at more than 30. The other customers were like speed bumps, milling around like they were at an art exhibit. By the time I got in line to have the cashier not bag my items, I was anxious and cranky. Nothing a massive slice of pepperoni pizza couldn’t cure, however. The food counter by the exit saved the day. It’s as if Costco knows the anguish people like me feel by the time they’re finished shopping. Uncanny.

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