Thread by @damnfoodcourt, A dickhead's first day as a Costco member [...]

A dickhead's first day as a Costco member
OR
How I let twitter convince me to do a thing

A thread:

My wife and I discuss getting a Costco membership about once a year, but inevitably decide that we don't need one. Earlier this week that changed.

A twitter pal posted about how great having house slippers is. I've never owned slippers.

These days, 1 baby and 2 cats make my floor constantly dirty and barefoot and just socks aren't great options. So I needed slippers.

I asked twitter where I should get slippers and a number of folks said Costco. I talked about it with my wife and we decided no.

Later, I got restless and started a twitter poll that said yes. I was eventually convinced by a co-worker who told me I'd save a bunch of money on gas.

I told my wife about the gas savings and the good deal on garbage bags and diapers, butter, meat and cheese.

I even reminded her of how they are the only place with those cashew clusters that she likes. She said that we could just wait until my friend Shaun goes or when her mom goes and get slippers and garbage bags and cashew clusters then. I argued that having our own would be best.

Exhausted, she relented. Now normally we buy as much as we can from farmer's markets, bakeries and butcher shops. Otherwise we love No Frills. Sure, Galen Weston and his family are demons in human skin, but the owners of our local NF are awesome folks. The staff rule, the covid

protocols make me feel super safe and I LOVE a deal. We fill in the blanks at other grocery stores if we have to. I thought that COSTCO could really fill in the blanks super well.

Today I went to get a membership. It would probably be pretty chill at 11 on a Thursday, right?

WRONG! NOT CHILL! It was fucked. The parking lot was fucked. There were about 50 people in the lineup to get in. All of them just chuds and goblins. Standing too close to me, not wearing masks until they got inside and HAD to. One woman brought a camping chair to the fast-moving

line. So she would unfold it, put it down, sit in it for a second, then stand and take 2 steps, and repeat. I hate it. I hate it so much.

Eventually I got to the front and asked about a membership. I was told to go in the other door, get it, then go to the back of the line.

I waited for 3 other folks to get memberships, then it was my turn but I had left my wallet at work. That's on me. 30 minutes later I start the process over. They try to sell me the fancy membership, but I say no. They tell me I'd be a fool not to.

If I spend 5K a year, I'm losing money. I told them that this place is so busy that I can't see me shopping their regulary. That I just want slippers and cashew clusters. They say that this location is particularly busy all the time and that I should just drive to Sherwood Park.

Eventually they let me buy the cheap membership and I get in the back of the line, where the lady in front of me keeps spraying sani in the air and then waving her hands in the sani cloud.

Ok, so I'm in. I decided to check laptop prices, but 2 women with their masks below their noses were hogging the aisle.

As I'm panicking, I see the cashew clusters. Sick. Then right to the clothing section for my slippers. I can't find them. I looke EVERYWHERE.

Then I see a lady with a Costco card on a lanyard and I'm like "Hey, do you work here?" she's like "nope, but what do you need."

Then she helped me look around for men's slippers for a while, but we couldn't find them. I went to check out the meat, cheese and butter.

All of those things were pretty cheap, but I think I may just be a good shopper, because I always find them cheaper than that. As a women with a mask under her nose, holding a giant jar of Sauerkraut yells "BUT YOU LOVE SAUERKRAUT" at her rig pig BF, I see an actual employee.

"Hi! Can you show me where to find men's slippers."

Her: "Men's slippers?? It's not Christmas."

I guess they only carry men's slippers at Christmas.

Ok. So I head to the front with my cashew clusters and stand in line. The guy behind me gently pushes his cart into the back

of my legs and keeps it there, applying a mild pressure. I'm too defeated to care. Then I see self checkout, so I join that line. The man standing directly behind me breathes his hot breath onto my neck as I wait for a spot to open.

Finally, an employee gestures to a checkout and then says about 5 different instructions to me, but my foggy brain doesn't hear any of them. I see the food counter and get in line. Eventually I realize that it's self service and that I'm not in a line. I get pizza and poutine.

I will review both.

This is the poutine. It was a nightmare.

Here is the pizza. It was a nightmare.

Both look like cautionary pictures from a Jr. High health book.

Look, I'm sure costco is great. I have a membership and I'll go back when I need the things I would buy at Costco. I'm glad they treat their employees well.

I find a lot of joy in food shopping. I like finding deals and being inspired to cook intersting things. Costco is not that. It's a distopian shopping experience. Just carts full of giant boxes of bullshit. I kept looking at people's weird carts and figuring out their whole deal.

1 guy had no less than 200 lint removers. Like, 50 4packs. Like, what are the other 23 hours of your day like?

Later today I get to go home and tell my wife that I traded the family cow for magic beans. Then I'll sit with cold feet and eat a $72 bag of cashew clusters.

Not bad.

Also, every time I type "my wife" in here, just assume I'm doing it in a Borat voice please, because I am.

And every time I give the Weston family any money, I feel bad until I think that the alternative is paying 25% more and giving it fucking Save-on Darryl.

Like, I'll call you when I need a 4th for my bowling team, Darryl, you fuck.

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