My apartment is a few blocks from a Costco discount warehouse store in Richmond. A friend of mine told me they have good prices on meat, and they also have good prices on gasoline (as much as five cents cheaper than the competition). But in order to shop at Costco, you have to buy a membership card. In the past two weeks I have visited Costco twice.
A week ago, I entered the store with the intention of looking around to see if I thought it was worth paying a membership fee to shop there. I wanted to check out the prices, the selection, and so forth. Upon entering the huge open doorway, a Costco employee stopped me and told me that looking around was not permitted, and that I had to go stand in line to get a temporary pass in order to come into the store. So I went over to the counter and stood in line. And stood. And stood. Ten minutes later I came to a realization:
I am standing in line to get into a store that I’m not even sure I want to shop at.
To hell with that. I left.
Today I returned to Costco, having decided that the price of their gas would, by itself, go a long way toward making a membership worthwhile (I drive back and forth between Richmond and Portsmouth at least once a week). I entered the store’s enormous door and walked past the long, long line of people waiting to leave (people are in line waiting to leave?) and approached the customer service counter to go ahead and get a membership.
“Sir! Sir!” called the long-haired man keeping people from leaving the store with their purchases.
“Yes?” I said.
“You need to go back out and come in the other door,” he said, gesturing toward the large doorway around fifty feet away, just like the one I had just walked through.
“Um… what? I’m here to buy a card — a membership,” I said, gesturing at the counter in front of me.
“You need to go back out and come in the other door,” he repeated.
Blink.
“Are you asking me to leave the store?” I asked, incredulous.
“Yes,” he said.
I am right in front of the customer service counter, I have told him that I am here to buy a membership, and he wants me to leave the store, walk sixty feet away outside, then come back in the store and walk forty feet back. I was speechless for a moment. Then I said a rude phrase to him that I have probably not said to another human being in twenty years, and I left.
I hear a lot about how evil Wal-Mart supposedly is. I do not see it. I get good prices on what I buy, the people who work there get paid better than they would at the mall, and I have never been treated rudely at Wal-Mart. No one at Wal-Mart has ever asked me to stand in line just to get in the store. No one at Wal-Mart has ever asked me to leave the store.
I have decided that since Costco clearly does not want my business, I will not trouble them further. There’s a Sam’s Club right across the street, and they have gas, too.