When my grandfather arrived in this nation as a young paisono shortly after the turn of the century, he was likely disappointed to learn the streets were not, in fact, paved with gold, nor was Lady Liberty a real woman waiting to greet him with a wet kiss and a welcoming cigar lit by an actual torch.
Despite this major letdown, I'm sure he would, upon entering a Costco and having arrived from a land where his countrymen bought horses with loaves of bread, fall upon his knees out of both fear and joy, thinking he entered a literal horn of plenty.
He'd would also wonder where all the horses are, but that's another issue.
I, of course, and likely you, of course, are not bewildered by the breadth and depth of a typical warehouse store. But I'll admit to being a bit overwhelmed and impressed the first time I walked into one. Part of it is seeing familiar items in unfamiliar sizes.
For example, I've seen Hellmann's mayonnaise all my life. I cannot recall a time when I did not know what Hellmann's mayonnaise was. However, I grew up with Hellmann's mayonnaise in 32-ounce jars. But if I saw Hellmann's mayonnaise in a 24-ounce jar or a 48-ounce jar, I'd feel a little uncomfortable. When I first saw Hellmann's mayonnaise in a tiny jar when I stayed at a hotel, I couldn't stop staring at it, and when they put Hellmann's mayonnaise into squeeze bottles that made you unsure which was the top, for weeks I blocked out of my mind that innovation in packaging.
So when I entered Costco for the first time and witnessed Hellmann's mayonnaise in a jar the size of a small barrel, the kind you'd see catching rain in the corner of a small tavern in the Old West, I was asking myself whether I'd be able to handle an entire shopping trip.
But fear not, dear reader. I am fully acclimated to unconventional food packaging and nowadays, Costco is part of my Saturday morning routine. My Saturday morning routine usually starts with waking up and wondering what I've been doing with my life, considering the highlight of my weekend is going to Costco.
With all that in mind, here are some of the good things about my local Costco:
1. The dairy and baking products -- milk, cream, butter, half-and-half, eggs, vanilla, chocolate chips -- are the cheapest in town. Until I started my Costco membership, I was considering buying a cow for my dairy products, which would not have worked out because, well, I have no idea how to care for, and extract dairy products from, a cow.
2. They keep the barrel-sized containers of Hellmann's mayonnaise in the same location, so I'm able to brace myself for that horrifying sight.
3. They sell a pillow-sized bag of Hershey chocolate chips, which serves as both a pillow and a convenient in-bed snack distribution center.
4. Despite the facility being large enough to house a family of grizzly or black bears, I have never been attacked by a grizzly or black bear.
To be fair, I must share some of the bad things about my local Costco:
1. The Commack Costco is "my" Costco, meaning I've achieved a level of comfort that is just not there when I enter a Costco in say, Melville, which LOOKS like "my" Costco but seems like an elaborate practical joke because things are not arranged in the Melville Costco the way they're familiarly arranged in the Commack (i.e., "my") Costco.
2. The checkout lines can get very congested. I suggest they adapt a flow with a single line managed by an employee who directs the next available customer to the open register.
3. The facility is not used after hours as an underground "fight club" -- or if it is, I haven't been invited.
Two more things. I still refer to Costco as "Price Club"; and I lied: The actual highlight of my weekend is going to Target.
FOUR BARREL-SIZED JARS OF MAYO I MEAN FOUR STARS read more