I fear my appreciation for humanity diminishes with every trip I make to Costco.
I really don't shop at the wholesale warehouse store that often – maybe once every few months. But invariably, I leave feeling a little less optimistic about the human race. It starts in the parking lot, where every trip to Costco is like a visit to the mall at Christmas time. Drivers aren't their best selves in a Costco parking lot. It's every man for himself, frantically searching for a spot and avoiding any general sense of courtesy or basic rules of driving. And in spite of well-marked corrals for the return of shopping carts, many shoppers choose to leave their carts pretty much wherever they can, as close to their car as possible and other drivers be damned.
Honestly, the parking lot alone is enough to make you want to abandon the journey altogether – which we actually did yesterday, when Rich declared, simply,
"Nope. Not today." Add in the threat of a coming snowstorm and every horrific thing about shopping at Costco is magnified a hundred-fold. That was the situation yesterday – and we graciously admitted defeat after one quick loop around the lot. Even if we had been able to find a spot, it wouldn't have been worth facing the frenzied crowd of "staples shoppers" inside – those irrational masses who insist on hoarding milk and bread at the slightest mention of snow.
But we returned today, determined to get our goods and save our dollars. The parking situation was better, so we stayed. But the experience inside was sufficient to once again reduce my fondness for the human race. There's something about the Costco experience that reduces many people, who in some other setting I might respect very highly, thank you, to some level of primal shopping fanatics who are oblivious to the presence of others. I think that's what astonishes me the most – how this particular shopping environment can reduce one's sense of awareness (and concurrent courtesy to others) to a primal level. It's that every-woman-for-herself attitude that begins in the parking lot and extends throughout the entire shopping experience.
Maybe it's the giant warehouse/circus atmosphere that overwhelms and transforms people. Maybe it's the sensory overload that hits you smack in the face when you enter, with row after row and shelf after shelf of EVERYTHING YOU NEED IN ONE STORE!, from snow shovels to TV sound systems to cantaloupes to undergarments to milk to dishtowels to couches to potatoes - all in BULK SIZES! and at HUGE SAVINGS! Maybe it's all those FREE SAMPLES RIGHT HERE LADIES & GENTLEMEN! TRY YOUR FREE CRACKER WITH OUR SPECIAL DIPPING SAUCE - YOURS FOR ONLY $7.69 TODAY!
It's a dangerous mix of free food plus bargains galore just around the next corner plus the fear that if you don't get it first someone else will (whether it's a parking space or a free piece of brownie or the last 48-roll package of toilet paper) that throws everyone into a "me-me-me" fit of obliviousness. And it's not so much a frenzied mass of shoppers like you might find on Black Friday, with people fighting to the death (sadly, sometimes true) for the last Xbox. No, at Costco it's more like shoppers fall into a trance-like state... the "Shopping Dead" if you will... pushing their carts around, eyes glazed over, rudely cutting in front of someone else for their free sample (and one for my husband please) or stopping short right in front of you because, "Oh, do we need Osteo Bi-Flex? Look they have it right here next to the orange juice."
When I'm finished with my occasional Costco experience, I'm reminded of quotes from two of my favorite thinkers. It was Albert Einstein who said,
"I love humanity, but I hate humans."
And it was Charles M. Schulz speaking through the voice of Linus who said,
For their sakes, I'm glad Albert and Linus never had to make a trip to Costco.
