Back in January, Joe and I decided to get a Costco card together. After speaking to Joe’s mother about the benefits of it, we thought we would join in on the economy fun. As a two person household, we didn’t fit into the norm. Our membership would be used for cheap(er) gas, peanut butter pretzels and boneless, skinless chicken breasts. Nothing too fancy there.
So, after work the other day, I made a quick stop at Costco to pick up a case of water. I casually walked in with my Costco card fully visible (I hate that policy), and immediately made my way to the back left corner. Yes, I know exactly were it is. I guarantee I’m not the only one working on memorizing their local Costco layout.
I passed the multiple samples and made my way over to the water. As I entered the water aisle, I realized I should have brought a cart. Remember, Costco does everything in bulk. The water was taunting me with all 35 bottles of glory. I thought, “I can do this. Just lift from the legs and quickly make your way to the check out.” Simple enough.
I adjusted my purse. I put my keys around my wrist. I took a couple deep breaths. Here we go.
I’ll give you the rest of this story in 30 second intervals and told through my thoughts:
First 30 seconds: Hey this isn’t so bad. I’m a little jealous of the lady next to me with a completely empty cart. What if I just casually drop my water in the cart and start hurdling the cart towards the front of the store? Ya think anyone would notice?
1 minute: Alright, so I may have miscalculated how close the registers were from here. Adjust. Adjust. Adjust. Much better. Less blunt blows to my intestines. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. I got this.
1:30: Holy crap! Closing in on the registers. Scan for open register. Wait! This is Costco. There aren’t any stinkin lanes open. Biceps throbbing. Nothing to the left. Nothing to the right. BINGO! Oh self checkout, I LOVE you!
2:00: Relief! Scanning. Scanning. Scanning. Arms and hands shaking like a leaf. Mis-swipe the card because of said shakiness. Finish paying and pump myself up for the trek to the car. Make sure the stupid receipt is visible. Lame. Adjust purse. Adjust keys. Adjust hand placement. *At this point, the plastic has ripped on one side.*
Costco to Car:
First 30 seconds: Move, move, move!
1:00: HALT! Stupid line to LEAVE the store. Ugh. Again, in through the nose and out through the mouth. More adjusting.
1:30: Hand the employee my extremely crinkled receipt. “Would you like a cart?” My response was a subtle grunt with an out of breath no. “Oh I see. You’re getting your arm workout for today! Have a nice day!”
2:00: Made it to the parking lot. HEY SLOW WALKER, MOVE OUT OF MY WAY. Use my ninja skills to dodge and whip around said slow walker.
2:30: I begin to walk like I really have to pee and I’m making my way to the bathroom. You know the one. The one where you almost waddle and you’re power walking to the max. At this point the case of water is smashed up against my chest. Arms shaking. Organs screaming for relief. Car in sight. Just a few more steps.
3:00: Slam the case of water on the ground. Whew! Unlock the car with shaky hands as I breathe heavily. Pick the case up and body slam it in the back of my car. BAM! VICTORY!
Lesson learned: Never walk into Costco without a cart. That wasn’t fun at all.
*Funny story: As I was typing this, I smashed some other buttons on the keyboard (because I’m a fast typer and all) that ended up publishing the post. I nearly had a panic attack trying to figure out how to unpublish something. I don’t even know if unpublish is a word. That was a minute of absolute terror as I scream, “It’s not ready! It’s not ready to publish! EFFFFF.” So if any of you received a notification that I published a new post, let me know if you actually got it and could read it. I really hope not.
I’m done with this post now.