Top 10 Reasons Costco & Sam Memberships Make Me So. Dang. Nervous.
Before we get into the reasons, can I tell you about some recent drama at my house? Yes? Thanks. You are always so good about listening to my issues. I should have bought you a better Christmas present last year. This Christmas we received a Sam's membership. Sam's is like Costco. I don't know if they are everywhere or just here in Texas. We received it and were happy about it. Well, I was happy and apprehensive. There are so many reasons that I go into below, but the main reason is that it's, like, super big. And you have to have that card. And you have to be met at the door on your way out. Other places have those receipt highlighters, like Wal-Mart (see the song I wrote to those special highlighters here), but most of the time they just wave me on through. I don't think there's any waving through going on at Costco or Sam's.
The highlighters are the TSA of wholesale clubs.
Still, it was a great gift and one that we feel that we could really use.
But, then we lost it.
Well, I should say that my husband said I lost it.
I have this special ability to lose things a lot. My keys were missing for two weeks recently when it finally dawned on me that they were probably in a coat pocket. They were. I lost my keys once and found them a week later in the middle of a new roll of paper towels inside a package of more paper towels out in the garage. They had slid out of my scrubs front pocket and into the paper towels when I went to get a new roll one night. As you can imagine, if something gets lost, the fingers are all pointing in my face.
Which is fair.
So, I looked everywhere for that dang card. I even looked in the trash. I looked in all the wrapping paper stuff. I looked under things. I looked over things. I looked in toy boxes where new Christmas stuff had been dumped.
"I found the card," my husband told me a couple of days ago.
"Where??"
"On *my nightstand."
There was no "I'm sorry that I blamed you for losing it when I actually lost it". He knows that I know he's slightly sorry and that it's comical that it would be on *his nightstand, so whatever.
Finding it was good news.
But, now that the possibility of having a wholesale club membership is making me all nervous again.
Here are the:
#1
I have a fear of throwing my back out when I lift the ketchup barrel and heave it in my basket. I actually hate ketchup. This ketchup will last me well into my golden years, so anything that last that long should be given a shot. A bad back is worth that, right?
#2 How many people will this box of Famous Amos cookies feed? I'm not good at dividing up 3,216,321 servings on the spot. Even with a calculator.
#3 The BEEP-BEEP-BEEP noise of an indoor pallet lifting tractor thing while in reverse scares me. It scares and inspires me. I want to be shown some BEEP-BEEP-BEEP respect. I wonder if Sam's is hiring...
#4 Do I take apart the 50 toothpaste boxes joined together at the store or leave them as one?
#5 My house really can’t accommodate a 200 square foot toilet paper package, although we could sleep on it until the toilet paper rolls right under our heads are the ones to go next.
#6 Is $55.21 a good deal on a box of floss? Also, does my medicine cabinet have enough room for floss the size of a dog house?
#7 The inability to determine if the mountain o’ jeans are made from “mom jeans”. The price clouds my reasoning abilities. The price and that bottle of wine the size of my Great Aunt Ethel I see in the distance next to the barbecue grill. We need a barbecue grill. How much is that barbecue grill?
#8 Taquitos. Lots of taquitos.
#9 The likelihood of overdosing on Frosted Flakes is great given that it is as big as a downtown building. I feel indebted to cereal. I love cereal. If the cereal is there, I feel that the cereal must be eaten before it goes stale, unless it’s a gross cereal. GROSS CEREAL CAN DIE.
#10 The temptation to eat all of the samples is overwhelming. Will they recognize me if I go back by again with a fake mustache? How about with a pirate hat with a big white feather? How about with a fake baby bump? What do you think about if I wear a kayak secured with suspenders to my shoulders? What then? (Just think about how many Bagel Bites I can fit into that kayak...)
You know what? I'm not nervous anymore. I'm just hungry for samples and Famous Amos cookies. Can I borrow your pick-up truck next weekend?
The highlighters are the TSA of wholesale clubs.
Still, it was a great gift and one that we feel that we could really use.
But, then we lost it.
Well, I should say that my husband said I lost it.
I have this special ability to lose things a lot. My keys were missing for two weeks recently when it finally dawned on me that they were probably in a coat pocket. They were. I lost my keys once and found them a week later in the middle of a new roll of paper towels inside a package of more paper towels out in the garage. They had slid out of my scrubs front pocket and into the paper towels when I went to get a new roll one night. As you can imagine, if something gets lost, the fingers are all pointing in my face.
Which is fair.
So, I looked everywhere for that dang card. I even looked in the trash. I looked in all the wrapping paper stuff. I looked under things. I looked over things. I looked in toy boxes where new Christmas stuff had been dumped.
"I found the card," my husband told me a couple of days ago.
"Where??"
"On *my nightstand."
There was no "I'm sorry that I blamed you for losing it when I actually lost it". He knows that I know he's slightly sorry and that it's comical that it would be on *his nightstand, so whatever.
*I take issue when he says "my nightstand" or "It's in my room", when we both share the dingdang space. I mean, I can let "my nightstand" go quicker than "my room". I will convert him to "our" one of these days. If I don't, I may make it habit of putting pancakes in his sock drawer (see here). He still hasn't mentioned that he found that pancake.
Finding it was good news.
But, now that the possibility of having a wholesale club membership is making me all nervous again.
Here are the:
#2 How many people will this box of Famous Amos cookies feed? I'm not good at dividing up 3,216,321 servings on the spot. Even with a calculator.
#3 The BEEP-BEEP-BEEP noise of an indoor pallet lifting tractor thing while in reverse scares me. It scares and inspires me. I want to be shown some BEEP-BEEP-BEEP respect. I wonder if Sam's is hiring...
#4 Do I take apart the 50 toothpaste boxes joined together at the store or leave them as one?
#5 My house really can’t accommodate a 200 square foot toilet paper package, although we could sleep on it until the toilet paper rolls right under our heads are the ones to go next.
#6 Is $55.21 a good deal on a box of floss? Also, does my medicine cabinet have enough room for floss the size of a dog house?
#7 The inability to determine if the mountain o’ jeans are made from “mom jeans”. The price clouds my reasoning abilities. The price and that bottle of wine the size of my Great Aunt Ethel I see in the distance next to the barbecue grill. We need a barbecue grill. How much is that barbecue grill?
#8 Taquitos. Lots of taquitos.
#9 The likelihood of overdosing on Frosted Flakes is great given that it is as big as a downtown building. I feel indebted to cereal. I love cereal. If the cereal is there, I feel that the cereal must be eaten before it goes stale, unless it’s a gross cereal. GROSS CEREAL CAN DIE.
#10 The temptation to eat all of the samples is overwhelming. Will they recognize me if I go back by again with a fake mustache? How about with a pirate hat with a big white feather? How about with a fake baby bump? What do you think about if I wear a kayak secured with suspenders to my shoulders? What then? (Just think about how many Bagel Bites I can fit into that kayak...)
You know what? I'm not nervous anymore. I'm just hungry for samples and Famous Amos cookies. Can I borrow your pick-up truck next weekend?