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Okay, I better say right now that I have no affiliation with Costco. Or Sam’s Club. Or Super Nifty Difty Price Saver Club of America. Except that I do often shop at these places in order to save oodles and gobs of money.
Or at least I think I save oodles and gobs of money.
I mean… come on. I can get a bag of Cheetos at Costco and it costs me the same as a bag of Cheetos at the nearest grocery store. The difference? The Costco version comes in 40 gallon trash bags. Which makes me feel powerful. Especially when I’m sitting on a bus with my giant bag, purposefully flaunting it next to whatever joe blow is sitting next to me with his silly little lunch-pack size bag of inferior chips (though I’m guessing the chips in his bag are probably a bit crisper).
The same goes for everything else. My protein drinks. Beef jerky. Even flowers, should I find myself liking a particular girl more than I ought to.
But have you ever noticed… there is almost nothing inside of Costco that costs less than ten bucks. Except maybe that big bag of Cheetos.
I need bathroom soap? Ten bucks. Ziplocks? Ten bucks. Deodorant? Ten bucks. Orange juice? Ten bucks.
And then after I’ve walked for hours eating samples, finding what I need, and mentally begging the checkout lines to move faster, the cashier beeps everything in my cart in less than ten seconds, shoves a receipt into my hand, and out I go.
At this point, I always think I’ve done well. But then I look at my receipt. And I’m like…
A hundred bucks?!