I made the mistake of going to Costco for “just a few things.”
You already know how this ends.
I walked in with a plan. A tiny, reasonable, adult plan. Grab a couple household things, maybe one practical item, and get out before Costco had the chance to work its dark warehouse magic on me. That was the dream.
Five minutes in, I had a cart the size of a small boat and absolutely no memory of my original list.
Why does this happen? Why does Costco make you feel like buying snacks in industrial quantities is just common sense? Suddenly I’m standing there thinking, Well obviously I need the giant box of granola bars. What if there’s a granola emergency? And then it escalates. Chips. Crackers. Chocolate. Some kind of seasonal treat that wasn’t even on my radar until I saw it stacked in a tower near the aisle and now apparently I can’t live without it.
By the time I hit the middle of the store, my cart looked like I was preparing to feed a hockey team through a natural disaster.
And the snacks. Oh, the snacks.
I swear I went in for a few things and came out with approximately fourteen snacks. Fourteen. That is not “picking up a couple items.” That is stocking a bunker. That is sending a message. A message that says, “I have no self control, but at least I’ll be eating well.”
The worst part is how calm I am while it’s happening.
I’m not spiraling. I’m not confused. I’m just casually tossing things in the cart like this is all perfectly normal behavior. Cheese? Sure. Fancy crackers? Naturally. A treat I’ve never bought before in my life? Into the cart it goes. I become a completely different person in Costco. A bold, reckless woman who believes in abundance and bulk discounts.
Then comes the checkout.
That moment when the cashier starts scanning and you stop making eye contact because you already know the number is going to hurt. You know it in your soul. Still, you stand there pretending maybe it won’t be that bad. Maybe the universe will be kind. Maybe somehow fourteen snacks and a cart full of “helpful extras” will ring through like a modest grocery run.
It will not.
And so there I was, leaving Costco with a bill creeping toward $900, wondering if I had accidentally purchased supplies for a family of twelve.
I hadn’t.
It’s just my complete lack of restraint. And enough snacks to survive an apocalypse.
Honestly, Costco is less a store and more a test of character. A test I fail every single time.
Will I go back?
Absolutely.
But next time I’m bringing a tighter list, stronger willpower, and maybe emotional support. Though let’s be honest… if they put something delicious on a sample tray, all bets are off.
All the best,
Tia
