I know I’m about 15 years behind everybody else, but I just joined Costco. This might have been a mistake.
The problem is that I’m not a shopper. When I enter a supermarket, or any store for that matter, I get the hell out of there as quickly as possible and hope I left with some food in my cart. I don’t like to shop. For anything. I would like things to magically appear in my home in the exact quantities that are necessary. I don’t like to store excess things in odd places. I’d rather just run out. Then, I know I need more.
But, I was tempted by the idea of fewer shopping trips and less money spent over the long-term. Since I started “freelancing” four years ago, I’ve managed somehow to lose money. I think this might mean I’m a sucky freelancer, but I have to slack off for at least another year before I can earn the distinguished title of Utterly Failed Freelance Writer. Meanwhile, my lack of income has seriously cut into our luxury lifestyle. We need more jewels. And furs. Costco, I was told, might be able to cut us a deal.
So, there I was last week, wandering down the aisles with my HUGE shopping cart like a deer in headlights. Or, at least, a deer with a shopping problem. About halfway through, I found myself in the unusual predicament of having to choose between a 12-pack of paper towels and a 32-pack of toilet paper. Only one of them would fit in my cart along with the very important 7-pack of Barilla pasta and 3-pack of HUGE Heinz ketchup bottles. It took longer than it should have to make a decision.
I can’t really remember what happened after I shelved the toilet paper. I kind of blacked out at the register, something about not taking MasterCard, and then after signing away one of the kids, I was practically frisked on my way out the door. It’s tighter than airport security over there. The frisker was not cute.
So, even though I probably more than made up for the $50 annual fee on the diapers alone, I’m still feeling used. Like someone just dumped a whole bunch of stuff in my basement and isn’t coming back to pick it up for five years.
On the upside, I may finally be closing in on the ultimate tampon bargain.