Over the years I have had a Costco account at times and other times not. The last two years I have made an observation about Costco shoppers in general. They are rude. Rudeness that goes far beyond not saying thank you or excuse me, you know the normal niceties that you should perform while in public.
The brand rudeness I am speaking of is the highest order. It starts in the parking lot, you literally are taking your life into your own hands each and every time you drive into the lot. Now disembarking from your car and walking to the front entrance is another matter. The mad as hell, I am going to get the nearest stall fat and lazy denizens circling the lot like a bloated great white sharks just waiting for you to make a mistake as they are trolling for that deal on a big screen television or that tub of anchovy dip.
Once past the prison employee checking your id card at the door, then it is dead stop in front of the rows of televisions, where the brain-dead masses have to watch the newest clip from Toy Story 3 or Avatar. Now you are starting to realize that this is a small microcosm of hell itself.
All you wanted was to get a roasted chicken and some vinegar for god sakes…
Once into the heart of rudeness, also known as the center of the store where all of the cows eating samples are, you try your best to keep your temper at stupidity under control, to get what you came for and no more. The stop and start of the lines, being cut off by unaware ‘shoppers’ and their spawn is almost more than you can take.
But alas you find what you needed, you push and shove your way to the front of the store still trying to be polite as you can (because your mother raised you to be) and get into the ever-present lines. Once in the lines you look around at unenthused employees, pissed of fellow shoppers and screaming children who through not fault of their own were dragged into this Dante’s inferno of capitalistic drudgery with the promise of pizza, ice cream and a grade A shopping experience.
Finally you get your items for the week, promising yourself never will I do this again on a weekend morning (yet you do, over and over again). On the way to the exit you must pass the feeding hordes of chunky hominids that are feeding themselves all of the preservatives that their bodies can handle. The line slows yet again so that more bored and irritated employees can pretend to look at your receipt so you are not taking a big screen television that you did not pay for.
Not today my dear, just a chicken and some vinegar so that my clothes smell good. Thanks.
Once again out into the parking lot to brave the sharks, circling for the parking spot that you now occupy, honking horns and flashing lights. Hurry, get away! Our dog was waiting in the car, watching the sharks, now he needs therapy.
Just a typical Sunday morning at any Costco I am sure.