By CAROLE ORLIN
This last week or two has had so many bizarre news stories that my head is still spinning: the Vice President of the United States being referred to as “The Shooter” in connection with his hunting episode in Texas; the President of the United States giving his unconditional support to the outsourcing of the management of port terminals in some of our largest ports (New York, Miami, Baltimore and others) to a Middle Eastern company owned by the government of Dubai (United Arab Emirates); and a death row inmate in California being granted an indefinite stay of execution after more than 23 years of appeals because state officials could not find an appropriate medical person to administer the lethal dose of chemicals to kill the condemned man. After watching another daily dose of weird happenings on the network news shows, I decided I needed a break, so I got into my quiet hybrid and headed over to that oasis we all know as Costco.
You must understand my love-hate relationship with Costco, which has been going on for years now. Living in this postmodern era — where constant change is so pervasive that it is one of the only things we can count on, when our truths and values are under siege, when we are overwhelmed and constantly bombarded by ever-changing “statistics,” when our paradigms are constantly being forced to shift — there is at least one thing I can count on: Costco. Even knowing the danger of going into that F.A.O. Schwartz for adults, I still find myself drawn into the huge parking lot. Like a lemming heading for that cliff, I follow the hordes crossing the threshold, going into that behemoth of a store, knowing I will always find my favorite granola and bagel chips, along with some unplanned treat or two. I know that I tend to buy things I might never have otherwise purchased. That, along with my husband’s expanding waistline from the granola and bagels chips have led me to do some serious soul searching about my forays to Costco. I have come to realize that I must find other ways to deal with the unique stresses and angst of living in our postmodern time. That must start with getting my Costco syndrome under control.
First, I have to really, and I mean really, know that the immediate gratification I get from the oversized treats at Costco do not contribute to world peace, let alone my own peace of mind. Secondly, I have to take a look at whether I am really saving money. Yes, the red peppers are wonderful and less expensive than at the other stores, but if I also buy 20 pounds of onions, 25 apples, and some exotic fruits that I end up not liking, am I really saving money? Also, there is something about being in this huge store and seeing other people with carts jammed full that makes me feel like I have to keep filling my own cart or my foray will have been incomplete. I will have missed something. The fact that these other people probably either have households of 10, or have the same Costco impulse control problem I have, doesn’t enter my mind at the time. They all seem so serene and focused. I know I would not get Noni juice if I were not at Costco, but I got it on one of my trips there. Why? I don’t know why. Something about the mystique of Costco tells me it’s OK. Go for it.
Now I can’t give up Costco cold turkey — by the way they have great Butterball turkey breasts there — so I have started doing things to help keep things under control. First, I make a list of things I really need and try to keep to it. I studiously avoid certain tempting aisles. I also make sure I eat before I go, and I chant to myself, “This is not the answer to either world or inner peace,” and — this one is hard — I avoid looking in other people’s carts for that special something I might have missed.
Of course, if I had the answers of how to successfully navigate these uncertain times, I would be up for a Nobel Prize. I would probably be unable to accept it, as I would be on a mountaintop somewhere seeking enlightenment. Instead, I will have to make do with what I have here. At least now I’m on the right track. I know Costco is not the answer. I will not find the answer in external things. Certainly I will not find the answer by watching the 24/7 bombardment of network news shows. I have to look inside to find my inner Costco. It will always be there, and it doesn’t cost a thing. (Carole)
Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on February 27, 2006. Read the original PDF.