Wonder Why Wednesday: Costco Edition
We took a family field trip to Costco last Friday, and we were on a mission. Our objective was to obtain what we needed for a cocktail party that evening. Nothing more.
When it was time to leave, I told the children that we did not have room for both of them and our purchases in the car. One of them would have to remain at Costco until we could go home, unload the loot, and return for the child. H, the four year old, quickly offered up his brother. We shrugged and told P, Sorry, this is just one of the many problems that stem from not being able to speak for yourself. I guess you’re stuck at Costco for a couple hours.
Of course we didn’t leave a kid there. We didn’t even consider doing that. Not seriously, anyway. But the cart was so insanely heavy, laden with our Cocktail Party And Then Some purchases, that it was serious work pushing that cart to the car. Bonus: no need to work out later in the day.
We lose our minds in Costco. To illustrate, a little story about tennis balls.
Once up on a time, pre-kids, we had a dog-child. Instead of attending birthday parties and play dates, we spent a lot of free time with our dog. We took her on long walks and played at the park, often throwing a tennis ball for her to fetch.
During this time we joined Costco and took our first trip to the promised land. While wandering up and down every aisle we happened upon cases and cases of tennis balls. We use tennis balls, we should buy these. Yes, great idea!
So we took home a case of tennis balls. For the dog. God rest her soul, Gretchen the German Shepherd is now running around the great dog park in the sky. But us? We still have two thirds of a case of tennis balls. For the dog.
I am convinced that the geniuses behind Costco pipe an odorless, colorless gas into those warehouses. Well, it’s more likely a hot-dog-pizza-cinnamon-roll-scented gas. Either way, this gas goes straight to the Shopping Center in your brain and immediately shuts down the Common Sense and Financial Responsibility sections.
My husband is typically very fiscally responsible. He’s not a shopper. He is not swayed by shiny, sparkly displays. He does not fall prey to attractive lables and pretty packaging. I may or may not be the exact opposite of my husband. Ahem. Mark, however, is usually the voice of reason. But even he succumbs to the power of Costco every time. The tennis ball purchase was entirely his idea. That’s my version of the story, anyway.
So I wonder why Costco holds this power over us?