It's not like I want it to happen. I've tried making lists, giving myself pep talks, or bringing friends along to supervise me. I'm attempting to fight against the inevitable. Nothing seems to get through to me when it hits.
The Costco Craze.
It's a hazy film that clouds my eyes and my impulse control. It's the need to fill up the ridiculously large cart. It's the compulsion to partake in all the amazing deals.
The Craze sets in slowly. You flash your Costco ID at the door and you cruise through fancy electronics, furniture, and the jewelry section. You are not tempted in the least. You are a strong individual who has no desire to buy a five-foot-tall teddy bear.
By the time you hit the first aisle of food, you're already beginning to weaken: Huh, six pounds of rice for that much? I should open a Chinese restaurant. Wait, no, stay on task. You scan your list and power through suburban moms and hyper children.
You're proud of yourself for resisting, and you ride that high through the rest of the dry foods. Then the worst thing happens. The frozen section comes into view. You're a freaking college student, it's not possible to resist five pounds of chicken nuggets for $15. You could live for weeks off that.
Once your cart slows to grab the nuggets, you're lost. Your stride has changed to the shuffle of a 75-year-old woman. You scan every shelf and squint a lot trying to figure out prices. Only a tiny voice of impulse control still exists. It says, "You are a poor college student. Don't do this to yourself. Get out whi--" The sound of someone being bound and gagged echoes through you. That was a mental manifestation of OMG THE DEALS kidnapping that little voice and shoving it in the basement. You're officially out of control.
The trip through the rest of the store is a blur. You're not even sure what you've bought and your grocery list is totally screwed up. You queue up for checkout and then you're slammed with a bill.
Your voice of reason has Harry Houdini-ed itself out of it's ropes and burst through the basement door: "HOW DID YOU JUST DROP $150 HERE?!"
Your hand shakes a little bit as you hand over the money. Your purchases are sorted into your cart and you've resolved to not ever spend money again.
Then, your stomach starts to growl, and you decide a $1.50 hot dog for the road couldn't hurt.
