Costco: Where I Go to Save Money

Can we talk about Costco for a minute? Because I have some questions, concerns, and possibly a developing anger management issue.

First of all, I am a proud, card-carrying Costco member. Why? Because I like to SAVE MONEY.

BAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

I'm sorry. I couldn't even type that with a straight face.

Nobody, and I mean NOBOD, walks into Costco and saves money. You walk in needing toilet paper and chicken breasts and walk out $437 poorer, wondering how you're going to fit a 55-gallon drum of olive oil into your pantry.

But it was ON SALE.

And apparently, I now need enough jasmine rice to feed a small Southeast Asian country.

Do I need 156 rolls of toilet paper? Absolutely not. But what if there's another pandemic?

What if there's a national toilet paper shortage? WHAT IF EVERYONE IN VERMONT

GETS DIARRHEA AT THE SAME TIME?

WHO'S LAUGHING NOW, KAREN?

I'll be sitting on my porcelain throne like the queen of Scott (sorry I have a sensitive septic), that's who.

And don't even get me started on the samples. You go in for laundry detergent, eat half a lunch courtesy of seven different sample stations, and suddenly you're purchasing a 48-pack of something you've never even heard of because Linda in aisle 12 handed you a tiny paper cup and told you it was delicious.

Linda could sell me a bag of gravel if she put enough seasoning on it.

BUT THAT'S NOT WHY WE'RE HERE TODAY.

No, my friends. Today we're discussing the absolute financial hallucination that arrived in my mailbox disguised as a Costco savings booklet.

You know the one. That glorious little publication filled with all the wonderful "MEMBER-ONLY SAVINGS" that make you feel special because you paid an annual membership fee for the privilege of spending your entire paycheck on bulk mayonnaise.

Well, I see it sitting on the counter from when Jet brought in the mail, and there it was.

RIGHT ON T HE FUCKING COVER!

A 7.5-foot artificial Christmas tree.

With LED lights.

For the LOW, LOW PRICE OF...

FOUR HUNDRED AND FORTY-NINE AMERICAN DOLLARS.

$449.00.

EXCUSE ME, WHAT IN THE HOLLY JOLLY FINANCIAL FUCKERY IS THIS?!

ALMOST FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS.

FOR A FAKE TREE.

A TREE THAT ISN'T EVEN ALIVE.

A TREE THAT DOESN'T SMELL LIKE CHRISTMAS.

A TREE THAT SPENT ITS ENTIRE LIFE IN A FACTORY AND NOW THINKS IT'S WORTH ALMOST MY ENTIRE CAR PAYMENT.

And here's the part that really sent me over the edge.

NO PURCHASE LIMIT.

OH, THANK GOD, COSTCO.

I was genuinely concerned that I wouldn't be allowed to purchase SEVEN of these overpriced plastic pine cones.

What an incredible relief to know I can spend $3,143 on artificial trees for my closest family and friends.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, MAMA! I GOT YOU A TREE!

Sorry, there's nothing under it. I had to sell a kidney to afford the branches.

And listen, before somebody comes at me with "But Kelly, it's pre-lit and you can use it for years!"

I DON'T CARE IF THAT TREE IS PRE-LIT, PRE-DECORATED, AND PRE-APPROVED BY THE NORTH POLE HOMEOWNERS ASSOCIATION.

For $449, that tree better come with Santa Claus, Mrs. Claus, all nine reindeer, and the ENTIRE ELF WORKSHOP.

I want Santa personally assembling it in my living room while Mrs. Claus makes me cookies.

I want the elves wrapping presents.

I want Rudolph shoveling my driveway.

And for that price, JESUS BETTER MAKE A GUEST APPEARANCE AT HIS OWN BIRTHDAY PARTY.

I'm talking full resurrection, water into wine, the whole production.

Otherwise, FUCK. THAT. TREE.

And before anyone accuses me of being a Grinch, let me explain something.

I LOVE Christmas.

I love the decorations, the lights, the food, the traditions, the cheesy Hallmark movies where some big-city executive falls in love with a lumberjack who somehow owns a multimillion-dollar Christmas tree farm.

I love ALL OF IT.

But when did celebrating Christmas require a financial advisor, a payment plan, and a consultation with your mortgage lender?

Because the tree is just the BEGINNING.

You still need ornaments. Lights for outside. Wrapping paper. Stocking stuffers.

Christmas dinner. Gifts for the kids. Gifts for the family. Gifts for people you barely even LIKE but somehow ended up on your Christmas list because they bought you a candle in 2017 and now you're trapped in a lifelong gift-exchange agreement.

And apparently, now we need a $500 TREE TO PUT ALL THIS SHIT UNDER.

ARE WE CELEBRATING THE BIRTH OF CHRIST OR HOSTING A FUNDRAISER?

I am SO thankful my kids are grown.

Seriously.

I don't know how parents with little kids are doing it anymore.

When my kids were young, Christmas was expensive enough. You'd spend months trying to find whatever toy was popular, only to discover it required 47 batteries that weren't included and your child would rather play with the box.

Now?

Between groceries, rent, heating bills, gas, and the general expense of simply EXISTING, how the hell are parents supposed to pull off Christmas morning without taking out a personal loan?

And God forbid you have three kids who all want electronics.

Congratulations! You can either provide Christmas presents or keep the electricity on so they can actually USE THEM.

PICK ONE.

And yes, I know inflation is real. I know everything costs more. I understand that businesses need to make money.

BUT AT WHAT POINT DID WE ALL JUST ACCEPT THIS INSANITY?

When did $449 for a fake tree become something advertised as a DEAL?

A DEAL?!

Costco, sweetheart, a deal is when you knock $3 off a rotisserie chicken and I feel like I've robbed the establishment.

A deal is when I buy 96 dishwasher pods and don't need to buy another one until the next presidential election.

A deal is NOT when I need to check my credit score before purchasing a seasonal decoration.

And the worst part?

You KNOW somebody is going to buy that tree.

Actually, LOTS of people are going to buy that tree.

They're going to roll it through Costco on one of those giant orange flatbed carts, right past the $1.50 hot dogs, looking like they've just made the investment of a lifetime.

Meanwhile, I'll be standing there holding my 12-pound bag of shredded mozzarella, whispering, "What the actual fuck?"

Maybe I'm just getting old.

Maybe I've officially reached the age where I complain about the price of everything, yell at the thermostat, and tell people how much things used to cost.

Maybe this is how it starts.

One day you're a fun, carefree woman in your twenties.

The next you're 47 years old, sitting at your kitchen table, personally offended by a Christmas tree in a Costco advertisement.

BUT SOMEBODY HAS TO SAY SOMETHING.

Because this shit is getting ridiculous.

Christmas should be about family, traditions, laughter, good food, and being together.

Not about whether your artificial tree has enough LED lights to be visible from the International Space Station.

So this year, I'll be decorating whatever tree I already own, eating Christmas cookies, enjoying my family, and refusing to spend half a grand on plastic branches.

And I'll continue shopping at Costco because, despite everything I just said, I apparently still need 162 pounds of jasmine rice and enough paper towels to clean up the entire state of Vermont.

Because I'm SAVING MONEY, DAMMIT.

Anyway, rant over.

I'm going to go check the Costco app to see if anything is on sale.

Because clearly, I have learned absolutely fucking nothing.