I have a love/hate relationship with Costco. I love it because they carry a really good block of cheese that is a staple in my house for every meal (Who doesn’t like a good cheese?). I hate it for every other reason in the book.
I hate that no matter what time of day or day of the week it is, the parking lot is always full.
I hate that when I do finally find a parking space, my stupid god damn van doesn’t fit in that spot, but guess who’s Smart Car does? (What an asshole!)
I hate that the carts are so big that it takes an act of God to push them around even when they’re empty, which of course mine is not.
I hate that they have the freshest and most reasonably priced fruit within a 50 mile radius, thereby making me an idiot if I don’t choose to buy my produce there.
I hate the “samples.” I am always hungry. I try them all. I bought a bag of quinoa because in the store it tasted like a little piece of heaven. It tasted like shit at home, and now I am stuck with a gallon of it.
I hate that my husband loves it. He is not a shopper. He hates spending money. Bring him to Costco, and he is like a kid in a candy store. Our checkbook is open. He walks up every single aisle meticulously looking for our next “smart buy.” “Seriously, those are NOT designer jeans honey, trust me!”
I hate that my husband thinks that I should buy everything there. I could go to the mall and spend $500.00 on clothing and/or home goods, and he would question every purchase. I could spend $1,000.00 on the same shit at Costco and he would give me a high five for being a wise shopper.
I hate that every time I go there, I spend $300.00.
I hate that I go there at least once a week and spend $300.00.
I hate the old people that come just for the free samples. Seriously, there is nothing in your cart! You are not fooling anyone! Get the f*@k out of my way!
I hate that even in the middle of summertime I have to bring my hat and mittens just to enter their ridiculously big “walk in” cooler. #dumbestideaever
I hate the judgmental look that I get from the liquor store cashier after she excitedly asks me if I’m having a party every time I buy 6 bottles of wine and a case of beer. “Do we really have to go through this every time? Do you not recognize me? I am in here every week. There is no party.”
I hate that it makes sense to shop there, so I have to keep doing it.
I hate that they don’t bag your shit.
I hate that it takes me 25 minutes to unload every item single handedly from the cart into my van because they don’t bag your shit.
I hate that the people that work there are generally very nice people, thereby making me feel like a total bitch for hating their store.
I hate that we spent $450.00 dollars there today and went to redeem our ice cream purchases for the kids at the food counter on our way out and the food service lady told my husband that we didn’t pay for 1 smoothie, 1 frozen yogurt, and 1 sundae, but rather ordered 1 smoothie, and 2 frozen yogurts…for a difference of thirty f*#king cents!
I am not the one to usually create a public scene, but I was pissed. My husband on the other hand would pay you to argue with him on most days, yet he just stood there, frantically digging in his pocket for thirty cents.
I couldn’t let it go, so I raise my voice in a weak moment and say, “Really honey, you’re not gonna argue this one? We just spent $450.00 in this god forsaken store. They can’t throw a couple of strawberries on the frozen yogurt and call it a day?!” The guy standing behind us even gave me a “you go girl” wink for good measure.
If I could’ve ripped the hairnet off the lady behind the counter and punched her in the face, I would have. “Give us the god damn strawberries bitch. It’s not going to take much of anything for me to stop shopping here.”
On second thought, “Don’t give us the strawberries…and thank you kind lady. If anyone can pull off a hairnet, it’s you.”