Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Costco Tourettes and Costco Haiku















Costco is my DH's happy place, not mine.

I almost never go inside the store since my husband has the shopping gene that I seem to lack. I wanted to see if they had a humungo package of markers—which they didn't—so I consoled myself with roasted chicken and croissants.

I went to the self check out rather than get behind the caterers with their multiple flat bed carts. The blinking slot said put card here. I slid it through the slot and the computer said invalid card, a Costco employee will check it. I start telling the computer that my card is not invalid and move to get behind the little league coach with 3 carts. Before I could change lines a clerk ran my card over a glass screen, not the blinking insert card here spot.

I turned my puddley chicken on it's side to have the window look at my UPC code and set it on the conveyor belt. I'm such a pro. I held the croissant's UPC sticker up to the window for the computer's appraisal and it gives me the go ahead. I set the bread on the conveyor and the machine announces that there is an error and I need to start over.

I say to the machine what do you mean I need to start over? I utter some phrases relating to it's faulty components which brings the clerk back. She quickly scans the bread and places it on the conveyor.

Now I need to try to pay. The clerk is standing next to me since I think she's afraid I'll either run a drumstick through the card reader or go get take out from a restaurant down the street. The register wants me to show it my American Express card and I slide it through the slot with the blinking light. It won't let me complete the transaction until I take my purse off the tiny window that I'm supposed to sign my name in. I considered letting my signature consist of initials for a phrase that you still can't say on TV but I didn't. The machine reminds me to get my receipt so I can go stand in line at the exit to have a clerk count to 2 and check to make sure I'm not smuggling a gallon of pickle relish underneath my lunch.

siren call to shop
cavern of oversized goods
SUV's overflow

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