Wandering Costco

I did not take a cart.  Despite a new corporate policy to confirm active membership, the door greeter accepted a quick flash of my card's COSTCO in bold red letters, waving me in without scanning any bar codes.  I had no intention of buying anything other than maybe a soft ice cream sundae at the snack bar on the way out.  With their kiosk ordering, I would not need confirmation of membership maintenance for that either.

On a mid-week mid-afternoon, few shoppers crowded the aisles.  My intent for going at all was to secure a quiet hour away from the distractions, or maybe allures, of My Space with its abundant neglected projects.  Nothing that I needed.  Costco's immense success, however, depends on a network of psychology grads who understand how to create want that transforms to need.  Bling in its most glittering forms greets shoppers at the entrance.  TVs with the biggest screens on display.  They were not set to broadcast Fox News or ESPN, but they all had brightly colored images on their flat screens.  Beneath the displays with prices in bold black numerals, shoppers could eye small stacks of very big boxes far too bulky to fit in a cart, which I opted not to take for myself this visit.  Much smaller, encased in thief-proof glass that sparkles from periodic Windex rounds, people could ponder how to display their material success with baubles that reflect ceiling LED light in the most dazzling way in the store and God's light when worn outside.  Cell phone displays were muted.  So was a section with eyeglass frames lining a wall next to a counter where experienced opticians will offer the best deals in bifocals.  I keep my membership exclusively for this benefit.

Continuing the main aisle.  Appliances to enable the homemaker's leisure.  Washing machines, refrigerators.  All better than what we likely have at home right now.  Hectic work schedules and smaller houses and condos have changed what we do in our homes.  We prepare food, we entertain ourselves, sometimes we work.  As kitchens become the hub for families and empty nesters, aisles of enhancements challenge one's credit card restraint.  Cookware, countertop appliances, display baskets, storage of the most attractive design.  Our square footage, or maybe even a whole room, allotted to our side hustles require soft chairs with high backs that swivel us from our desks to our shelves, then glide us across the room on casters.  Writing implements in colors. Shredders.  Papers to remind us of our failures to go paperless.  

Bling attracts the eye.  Pampering soothes the other body parts.  Bedroom decor, new lighting for the bathroom, made more sybaritic by other products awaiting us on their shelves.

Turning right brings me to clothing, men's for me.  Long pants as autumn approaches.  Light jackets.  Sweatshirts in green with an Eagle on the front.  Shirts in piles, some needing ironing, others in easy care synthetics.

One must traverse half a warehouse of stuff to arrive at what most people place in their carts.  Food.  Lots of food.  And mostly beyond Family Size.  For this tour sans my own basket, I started with the freezers.  At previous membership intervals, I could not pass up Kosher-certified tiramisu, my wife's favorite dessert, though modified with whipped cream where the mascarpone should be.  Not in the current frozen collection.  Neither was anything else, except for some packages of Beyond Burger which would be a challenge to stuff into my already occupied home freezer.  I like things I would not buy at Shop-Rite.  Best buy on lox slices.  I still have one chunk of homemade gravlax at home.  And cheeses with at least a Tablet-K.  Those are hard to find, so while my membership remains active, I'll have to return.  Big boxes of snacks that I don't need.  Did not enter the cosmetics, pharmacy, or bakery this time.  By now mid-afternoon.  A snack maybe.  Too late for pizza.  Not hungry enough for a sundae.  Just head home.  No money spent.

I'll be back.  Having scouted the place out, there are more wants than needs, by a significant multiple.  Eventually my gravlax will need replacement by commercially smoked and sliced lox.  Not had some of those cheeses in a long time.  Maybe tiramisu will return to the freezer.  And maybe my kitchen experience will get its next enhancement.  And depending on the time, pizza for lunch or sundae on the way out.  

Touring Costco

My k-cup supply could use replenishing.  Butter has gotten too expensive at the supermarket.  Haven't gotten lox in ages, as the price has become prohibitive and salmon to make my own gravlax has not gone on sale. And my Costco Card was nearing its expiration.  Haven't been to a Costco in a long time.  Were it not for the bifocal discount, the membership fee would not be worthwhile, but while I have it, I can see what bargains await.  I ended up getting five things.

1. House brand K-cups
2. Omeprazole
3. Nutrigrain Snacks
4. Gravlax
5. Beyond Burgers

Each discounted below what I can get other places.  Butter sold for three pound units.  Discount not enough to justify that quantity.  Real smoked salmon well above what I was willing to spend.  Munchies not notable bargains and I shouldn't be eating them.  Don't need any clothing, didn't even look.

I did consider some things for the kitchen, bright ceramic bowls mostly, but I don't really need anything there.  In many ways, Costco promotes want more than need.  Electronics at home are ample.  Satisfied with phone service.  They have attractive desk chairs, but I really like the one I have.  Not a whole lot of kosher specialties like whitefish or frozen shabbos dinners or frozen tiramisu that I find hard to pass up.  Not really much generated in the way of want.  Other than the gravlax, what I bought are all things I would have purchased anyway at the supermarket.

No reason to return until my bifocal prescription needs revision.  The card can lapse.

Rejoining Costco

My bifocals having been washed out to sea, I needed a replacement.  Costco Optical has remained independent of that Italian eyeglasses cartel, so I've made my purchases of bifocals there for some time.  Even with the $60 membership fee, the price falls below what the cartel affiliates ask and the quality has been more than acceptable.  As soon as they opened, I headed over, picked frames, submitted the prescription, and rejoined Costco after roughly a two year lapse.  You need not be a member to buy liquor or get a soda from the snack bar, so I've done that in the interim, but otherwise window shopping.

Once my new eyeglasses had been paid for, I toured the store with my renewed membership.  As a generally prosperous empty nester I already have too much stuff.  Eating selectively and in a limited way has brought me to weight goal for the first time in several years.  So despite the enormity of what I could now purchase, I really don't need anything other than replaced bifocals.  Might my membership at Costco create want?  As I toured the food section, indeed I saw the things I used to get.  Lox at a relative discount but still more than making my own gravlax.  Big salmon fillets so I can make my own gravlax.  They didn't have Beyond Burgers last time I held a Costco card.  They make quick good suppers so if the price is right I could get some.  Didn't see other destination purchases:  herring, whitefish salad, kosher certified tiramisu, or big Hebrew National salamis.  Not even those packaged kosher dinners that just need warming for a shabbos dinner too tedious to make myself.  Nor do I care to regain my previous weight with the alluring big bag of kettle chips or other munchies in bulk.  But next time I need coffee pods, theirs are the best buy.

Clothing can be a good deal.  Maybe replace my cargo pants that tore.  Didn't tour the appliance options, office supplies, electronics, bedding, or those oodles of better things for better living.  I live OK now.

When I pick up the glasses, I'll get a cart perhaps and fill it with mostly food of desire.

Roaming the Costco Aisles

My wallet contains an expired Costco card which gets me through the door but not to the checkout line.  When I had my own medical practice, I paid extra for a premium membership which qualified me for their credit card services.  After leaving, reduced my membership to standard every two years.  I needed bifocals and Costco's Optical Department was the best option for bypassing an Italian Mamzer who cornered the lens market, inflating prices and not really disclosing what he actually controlled.  So it was one year on, one year off.  The savings on the bifocals would more than offset the membership fee.  And I took advantage of it.  There were a lot of good buys at Costco, which must be run by college psych majors who know how to generate wants.  This was a bifocals renewal year but the prescription change was small enough and my need to enjoy maximum visual acuity in retirement did not justify the expense.  But I needed my eyeglass frames refitted so I went. 

Not having an active card defined me as a window shopper.  I'm not much for prestige items.  Have enough TV's.  Mattress OK.  As much as I covet those high end gas ranges that the professional cooks have, I don't need one, especially when it means getting a plumber to run pipe from my gas furnace into the kitchen.  But there are petty indulgences.  Cookware, maybe an indulgent office chair, always clothing that I might buy out of artificial want more than need.

And I like specialty food.  Cheeses with acceptable hechshers.  Gravlax.  I didn't see any herring this time but didn't do a thorough search.  Frozen kosher tiramisu, I assume still in the freezer section which I did not explore. Their warehouse sized bags of kettle chips which I've banned from my house.  Don't know what I would have gotten today with an active card.  Better off without an active card.