O boy. At the urging of a number of friends and family members, I took a short break to go the “neighborhood” Costco in Brooklyn. I feel like I lost my innocence there and the only way to get it back is to buy a bunch of hand-made cookies at the local deli. Costco (at least here) is a massive warehouse filled with massive containers and quantities of name-brand products.
I was overwhelmed by the size of the place, by the 12-packs of paper towels, by the 2-gallon size containers of Tide, by the tubs of peanut butter, and mostly by the assortment pack of 50 ruggelach in the bakery area. I signed up for membership at the register before I entered, thinking this would be a great opportunity to purchase diapers, some bread, maybe a few batteries.
I went up and down the conveyer belts masquerading as escalators in the store, which hauled me and my 100 pounds of stuff to different floors.
By the time I was ready to check out, I stood in line for 1 minute and then promptly parked my cart near the entrance and walked out of the store. Tomorrow, I cancel my membership. The time and frustration involved with buying Goliath-sized goods and then finding a way to transport and store them far outweighs the savings. On top of that, Brooklyn is one of the few places around that actually still has a vast number of locally-owned businesses; I always try to support them and I want to continue to do so.