Dear Costco shopper: It occurred to me last Saturday, as 200,000 of us simultaneously ran out of toilet paper and converged upon our Wholesale Mecca, that we need to get a few things straight:
- You are not the only person on this planet.
- Please take the first empty parking space you see. Blocking the driving lane with blinker on watching Grandpa load his ’81 Pinto hatchback takes more time than if you’d left your car at home and walked.
- Once inside, DMV rules of the road apply. Would you stop your car in the middle of a busy street, get out and walk to the sidewalk for a cup of lemonade? Then please don’t do that with your cart in the middle of the main aisle for one free tortilla chip. Pull over.
- This is not England. Please drive on the right side of the aisle. Keep up with the flow of traffic. No faster, no slower. Blindly cutting across four lanes because you spotted a good price on Jordache jeans is likewise ill-advised. If driving an oversized flatbed cart laden with a barbecue, sauna or Hummer, you have a greater responsibility to be careful. Our shins and ankles thank you.
- Despite his seeming wisdom, the smooth-talking gent selling “nutritional” supplements is not a doctor. Tomorrow he will be hawking ShamWows at JC Penney. The only harmful “toxins” to eliminate are the ones coming out of his mouth.
- The register is no place to ask for a price check. There are 18 very pissed-off people behind you with crying children and weakening bladders. It's a 3-square-mile warehouse, not the corner market. In 1994, an employee went to price check a 20-pound bag of diced Guatemalan pineapple and was never heard from again.
- The giant red border painted on the ground surrounding the store is a “No Parking” zone, not a “Just Waiting for My Wife” zone. No one “is coming right out” of Costco. I saw a baby conceived and delivered during a single trip to Costco. Please find a parking place.
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