Let's Talk About...Costco

Ok. The word "Costco," always generates some kind of reaction. "Oh my God, I love Costco!" or "Have you been to the new one? It's great (or 'different' or 'hard to find anything' or 'so nice')," or "Oh, I only shop local."

Well, the new Costco in Longmont opened and for a long time I think I was the only person in the county who hadn't stopped by. (Incidentally, no one simply "stops by" Costco. Costco is an hour-long shopping adventure).

Let me explain. Although I am a proud Costco member, I haven't been to Costco on a regular basis since I stopped packing my children's school lunches. Back then we would go to stock up on drinks, snacks, luncheon meats, breads, cheese, trail mix, and lots of things like furry blankets, chicken teriyaki, crayons, books, and P.E. shorts. We would sample every "taster" in the store and emerge happy and full. After the parental school lunch program ended, my visits were mostly limited to stock up for holidays and parties. Oh, and for their chicken salad.

Here is my issue with Costco.

My mother-in-law used to ask me almost every week whether I had gone to Costco that week. If I said "no," she would tell me I really should go there and buy paper towels ("the best") and get my gas ("the cheapest"), and then remind me how great the chicken noodle soup and the produce are, and how I could feed the family all week so easily if I only went.

But here's the thing – first, although I appreciate the value of buying in bulk and that Costco paper towels are first rate, I don't have a shelf-lined room in my house in which to store everything. Also, I hated to tell her that I really didn't have the budget to spend $300+ every time I walked through the Costco entrance.

My mother-in-law may be able to walk into Costco, buy some soup and some strawberries and leave a happy customer. But me? No. It's not in my DNA. I am like a kid in a candy store every time I go. Because, when I go, inevitably I come home with enough M&Ms to last a year, new towels, a door mat, solar lights, a Swifter, and of course, enough food to stock a small café.

I had to go to rehab to wean myself off Costco.

So, I have resisted going to Costco since it opened in Longmont. When my friend called to ask if I wanted to join her bright and early on opening day, I felt my eye twitch and politely said, "No, but thanks for asking." She couldn't believe I wouldn't be camping in the parking lot with her the night before.

I waited for the reviews instead.

Everyone has an opinion about Costco and our new one specifically. At some point, I finally figured it was time to check it out for myself.

So, my husband and I recently took a field trip to the Longmont Costco to see what all the fuss was about.

First, we set our parameters before we got in the car. We agreed we were going to just do a little reconnoitering. We had no shopping list and agreed we really needed nothing. In other words, we were just going to look.

Well, you know how that turned out.

So, we pulled up to that familiar looking store, noticed the parking lot was unnaturally full, found the entrance, took a breath, and approached. We grabbed a double-sized cart because, well, we know how this is going to go. After fumbling for my Costco card to gain entrance, the world opened up to the cavernous warehouse of consumerism that is Costco.

Naturally, the first things to greet us were giant screen TVs. Oh, we have fallen for that shiny penny before. So, we grabbed our cart, turned away, and started up and down the aisles. "Look! An air fryer. We need one of those!" (No, we don't). Look, we need a new comforter and new sheets for the guest room." (No, we don't).

It only took two aisles before I lost my husband. Each of us wandered off to explore something very-important. When we found each other, wouldn't you know it, we were each carrying a handful of very-important-items.

We then wandered through the drinks, bakery, meats, wine(!), clothing, pharmacy, books, and only lost each other two more times. "Look, a dashcam!" "Look, a 10-pound wheel of cheese!

"Keep walking."

It was the dog beds that made us stop short, look at each other and exclaim, "Oh, Emma needs a new bed. She will love this one. Feel how soft it is!" Poor Emma has had to endure being a child substitute since the diaspora.

Well, needless to say, we found many other "essentials" we just had to buy.

When we got to the checkout (where I once again fumbled for my Costco card), wouldn't you know it? The total was about $300. Some things never change.

After the routine cursory check of our receipt and the obligatory felt marker slash, we hauled our boxes filled with grapes and bread and a $4.99 rotisserie chicken and who knows what else home. Since then, I have been staring at the 30 rolls of toilet paper in my office wondering if we should go back for the air fryer and the $1.50 hot dog.