Costco Culture

Four year old: "Where did you get those mints?"

Me: "At Costco. Have you been to Costco?"

Four year old: "Yes, but I didn't see you there."

I can understand why he thinks that. When you enter Costco, you can't help but wonder if everyone and their Great Aunt Wilma is there, too.

Someone compliments the hostess on her wonderful brownies, or lasagna, or meatballs and the reply is "Oh thank you, doesn't it taste good? I got it from the red box at Costco."

Last time I was in Costco I nearly bought a card organizer that came with 32 "handmade" cards. The price per card was pretty reasonable, but I had not taken two steps with the box when I suddenly envisioned bridal shower after baby shower after birthday party where three or four guests all gave the exact same "handmade" card.

But the Costco culture that we live in is something I have been trying to figure out for years.

Costco works, in a lot of ways, like the general store of the frontier. You make a special trip in and stock up on essentials and see if they happen to have pants that might fit you or a book you might like to read and you wander around to see what new fangled things people are making. And then, since you rarely get to the store, you make a splurge "penny-candy" purchase, like a DVD Limited Edition New Release or a 1,000 Watt spotlight.

But the majority of people who shop at Costco do not live a day's journey from a supermarket; they live within a five minute drive.

A five minute drive could lead to a lifestyle like that of the Europeans who every day make a trip out to buy meat, veggies, and bread. Everyone could live out of dorm fridges and pantries the size of your underwear drawer.

Instead, every family needs two freezers and pantries have grown so big that you could install bunk beds and a bounce house.

Well, you could, except that yesterday was Costco shopping day.

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