Checking out at Costco
I sort of understand the person who checks my card when I enter Costco. After all, it’s a club. Before you step into the big barn (ever notice that smell in there?) they have to be sure it’s you. Never mind that I always use my sister’s card.
Anyway, what I don’t get is the person who checks as I leave—the cheerful one holding a big magic marker in her hand as she pretends to count all 57 items in my shopping cart. I’m thinking, why doesn’t the club have the cashiers do the counting when they take all your stuff out of the cart and then put it back in?
Besides, you can’t grab much as you pass the carpet displays on your way out. And even if I do have a couple of those quart containers of fish-oil pills in my over-sized purse, there’s no way anyone is getting in there.
