Let the overconsuming begin
Mea culpa. I’ve been enrolled in the ranks of the überconsumer, and there’s even (poor) photographic proof. I have an official ID card, that allows me to forego all common sense in my shopping habits. OK, a bit of overevaluation of the importance of my actions, but today was not a good day for my self respect as a moderate member of the economy.
I became a member of Costco society, (formerly Price Club) wherein the gloves are off, the shopping cart is big enough to rival a Hummer, and to enter is to buy. And then, to submit to search on departure. The retail equivalent of an airport; I fully expected to be asked to remove my shoes at any moment.
Where else can one spend money to have the “privilege” of shopping; not even buying, but perusal? We spent a half-hour on the adhesion counter, glued in place. It is no longer necessary to provide proof of working for the government; the girl warned us that anyone could shop there, and we might find ourselves beside people who were “BS”. Not a Bachelor of Science, I suspect.
The floor to ceiling shelves (everything above your head is off limits, unless you bring a lift truck) are full of industrial quantities of almost everything. I could have gum, to vault, to sufficient dishwasher soap. All in huge portions. There were plasma screens big enough to require a forklift to get it out to the car, even though the box would never fit inside.
I was restrained. I now have a lot of pretzels, and chicken wings, and mixed nuts (without peanuts… cashews have become the filler of the new century). There is enough canned tuna to cause a cat swarm. And a dictionary.
