Caveat Emptor

Spent the better part of yesterday at an institution clearly concocted by some 21st century brainiac -- Costco's. For those of you who have never ventured into the hallowed halls of hell, allow me to introduce you to the whole concept of buying crap you don't necessarily need, and in massive quantities, no less.

And because I was raised to go the extra mile, I actually joined full force and am an Executive Member. Apparently, this means that I am way more gullible than the average Joe Schmuck and, therefore, get a special card announcing my stupidity to the world at large.

I have yet to pay a visit to any of these discount club shopping places without spending at least $500. The irony is that I seldom get what I came for, but I certainly exit with a whole lot more than I originally bargained for. (Sounds like a few dates I've been on).

An expedition to Costco's reminds me of a university pub crawl. You go into the whole night with a clear head, and emerge with only vague and hazy recollections of what happened. Okay, so I've actually only ever been on one bona fide pub crawl during Frosh Week at U of T, but that was enough. What I remembered from that night was virtually nothing -- a couple of days later, while strolling across the quad to residence, I saw someone that I thought I should know, but couldn't remember for certain. Turned out I'd talked his ear off for what probably seemed like an eternity to him. I haven't the faintest idea what I said to him that night, but he spent the rest of our undergrad career (four long years) giving me the Cheshire Cat grin every time we ran into each other, so I gather I must have made a complete ass of myself that night.

Which brings me to the phenomena of Costco's. Its irresistibility factor must have something to do with its exclusivity: you have to be a member to actually even enter into the damn place. So of course, you just have to join, right? Remember when your mom would say "You absolutely can't eat your vegetables. I won't allow it", so naturally, you proceed to show her she isn't the boss of you and hoover the entire lima bean, turnip and brussel sprout concoction. Yep, you're never too old for a good dose of reverse psychology.

I just don't get it. First of all, shopping is my least favourite activity, and second, if I were to take up shopping as a hobby, it certainly wouldn't be at Costco's. I mean, c'mon ... I practically got into a fist fight with some elderly lady over empty cardboard boxes in which to put my purchases. Exactly how glamourous and desirable an experience is that? (Oh did I neglect to mention that even Executive Members don't get their many purchases bagged?) So why did I feel compelled to join up? Why did I wind up leaving many hundreds of dollars poorer, toting boxes of stuff that I thought were so fabulous, which I cannot even now itemize? Whoever is on the Costco's marketing/hypnosis team should be paid big bucks, because it sure is effective!

I'm almost too embarassed to admit that I am already planning my next expedition there. So if anyone comes calling for me, let them know that I am at the club.