Pater Familias … because I'm your FATHER!

Costco And The Zen Of Too Much, Too Cheap

May 1, 2010

What has off-price shopping taught you about yourself, life, the universe?

When the shopper is ready, the members-only warehouse appears

Some questions cannot be answered in the abstract. You must touch reality to know.

For a recent answer, I had to buy reality – a big flat screen TV – and haul it home, there to discover the sound seemed too feeble for the glorious visual experience, so I went back and bought a TV speaker system.  

You should have seen, heard, but then in a matter of days the charm wore off. We are not Big TV people. God knows why not, but not. Even Girl Child agreed.

Happily we bought at Costco, the one store on earth where I can comfortably bring back $900 worth of slightly used electronics and look the customer service guy in the eye and tell him we just don’t want it, then take a cash refund feeling centered, guiltless, free. A lot of outfits have no-hassle return policies, but here we have personal history and trust. And Costco knows it’ll never lose money on me.  

I love this store. If you’ve never beheld a “warehouse,” as Costco calls its big, ugly, bare-bones emporia, you’d be amazed. Here we wander, wonder, in a world of stuff, generally primo – especially the food – sold in quantity for amazingly cheap.  Here shopping becomes perceptual adventure, aisles and aisles of uniquely psycho product mix. Once I almost bought a piano five steps from bags of scallops and live mussels. Unforgettable. Here all things come together -- contractor tools, booze, furniture, organic milk, my favorite kind of boxer shorts, girls’ party gowns. On that last one, we saved a fortune during GC’s girlie dressup phase. Hipster friends spent way more on their kids’ White Stripes t-shirts.

A man can go nuts, no kidding, but Costco also instills discipline. As an Executive Member and 33^rd degree advanced Costco-ite, I find deep gratification in not-buying and all that leads to “No.”

Like, say, the tube of 1,000 cable ties for $10. I like cable ties. I'm getting pretty low on them at home. 

True, says an inner voice, but 1,000 would be wrong, even for free. The 900 I won’t need, in this life, would be a burden.

No again to the humungo Crescent-brand tool set down the same aisle. This one I jones for, bad, in spite of owning most of the same tools, which I’d have to get rid of. A problem disguised as a solution. No.

On the other hand, good things will come from a $10 Hitachi titanium drill set and a few 40-pound bags of super cat litter. Yes, and Yes. 

Gotta look at the stuff, the price, within, know the difference between need and want, between extra you can use and too much. Truth is pure and individual. My Costco is only mine, and it never wearies and sucks the soul like other stores. I'll be back next week. 

So, Pilgrim, what do you love about your favorite giant store? What has it taught you?

Note: Readers may remember I ragged on suburban superstores in the recent Zombie Apocalypse post. No contradiction. A big box is not a cosmic box. Costco is Coscto. 

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