I love and appreciate their top notch customer service, their 'no questions asked' return policy and the variety of items that they stock for bourgeois bohemians. I love that they pay some of the best wages and benefits in their industry, treat their employees well and cap all their markups at 14% across the board.
We probably shop there every couple of weeks and there are things that we always get (olive oil, nuts, diapers, toilet paper, wine, salsa...) and then there are new things that we discover each time (magazines!!!). I don't feel like I go that much but on career day last year, Eloise did tell her class that my job was "cooking and going to Costco". Could be worse, I guess.
Costco rarely disappoints, but today was just not a good day for the warehouse and me. I thought we could run over quickly in between Harriet's nap and lunch time, make a return, grab a couple things and be on our way. I was mistaken.
On our way over in the car I realized that I had forgotten my shopping list. I knew this would mean aimless wandering around and wasted time. I still trudged ahead. When we got there and I remembered that the carts are the double wide kind and Eloise could finally fulfill her wish of sitting up top next to Harriet, I knew that she would be thrilled. She was, and the two of them looked so cute sitting there I had to take a couple pictures.
We had to make the return first and for some reason it took forever. I mean FOREVER. We were just waiting and waiting and waiting and the girls were getting fussy and I was getting bitchy and we were running out of time to still shop and drive home and avoid a 'fall asleep' in the car. I just kept promising them that once we finished the return we could go over to the kids books and pick one that they could read in the cart.
Once we were finally finished with the return Harriet was full on crying but I put in her paci and thought we could buy some time. Two minutes later I saw that she had dropped her paci and when I looked behind us on the ground to retrieve it I was met with, I kid you not, a giant Zamboni-like street sweeper being ridden through the aisle and, from what I could tell, directly over Harriet's recently discarded pacifier. What the hell? I have never ever seen one of those in there before, let alone at noon on a Friday when the store is filled with hundreds of people. I only had the one paci. Now it was gone.
We finally make it to the books and Eloise points to the one she wants to read to Harriet and Harriet seems excited at the idea. Eloise holds it in her lap and opens the cover of the book. The corner of it, that seems sharp enough to circumcise a gnat, pokes Harriet in the eye and continues a long slow scrape down her cheek. She does that kind of silent cry at first when her face is just so pained, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, but she can't make a sound because she hasn't been able to take a breath yet. I brace myself and then, there it is, the most blood curdling, shriekiest, most pathetic cry you have ever heard. I unbuckle her and take her out of the cart to hold and comfort her and survey the damage. Meanwhile, I am trying to steer the double wide cart, now with one hand, and trying to squeeze past another shopper. I bump right into him smashing Eloise's fingers in between the two carts.
I now have two
We left. We purchased nothing but will, of course be back soon for a much less disastrous trip, hopefully. The best part was in the car on the 20 minute drive home. Harriet took a break from her continuous crying and I could hear Eloise say in this baby-talky sing-songy voice, "You're just having kind of a bad day today aren't you, little one?" Yes. We are.
before the mayhem
future Costco members
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