My dream job is to be a traffic cop at Costco (inside the store not the parking lot).
After five minutes on the job, I would be so drunk with power.
I want one of those traffic cop whistles and a baton too.
I would stand right at the top of the main aisle next to the big screen TVs blowing that whistle till I was red in the face. Only taking it out to scream “keep to the right. Come on lady, keep your cart in your own lane!”
I want a ticket book also. I would ticket people for walking too slow, letting their kids run wild, taking too many free food samples.
I would be the Costco cop from hell.
Seriously. I want Costco to hire me as their traffic supervisor. The first thing I would do is paint traffic lines on each aisle. With big white arrows pointing in opposite directions. So people would know which side of the aisle they have to be on. There would be dotted lines, so you could pass the slow shopper.
Then I would have parking spots painted in front of certain aisles. That way, if some one feels the need to stop and stare at the package of 500 toilet paper rolls and try to do that math on how much they would save per role, then they would have to pull over and get off the road to do it.
I would turn the fruit/ vegetable and the milk/ cheese rooms into round abouts.
Just like the ones the city are putting all over St. John’s. They will operate on the same principle. Each shopper will have to look to his left and yield to shoppers already in the roundabout. Once a gap in traffic appears, shoppers can merge into the roundabout and proceed to their exit. I would also have parking spots available inside each room for those people who have to stare at the lettuce and wonder if they could use fifteen heads before they rot.
The strawberry section would be a ‘no stopping any time’ zone. Shoppers will be forced to take the strawberries on top. There’s no need to dig down to the bottom of the pile, they all came off the same truck at the same time. You’ll find a moldy strawberry in each one. Give it to the kid you least like.
Food sample tables would be a ten second stopping zone. That’s enough time to take one cracker and a squirt of cheese then move on. You don’t have to eat the entire box of crackers to see if you want to buy them. You’re not some cracker connoisseur trying to figure out if the olive oil used is virgin or refined. You’re from The Goulds for Christ’s sake. Get over yourself. It’s not lunch. Move along. Nothing to see here. Repeat offenders will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
This part is ingenious… I would equip each shopping cart with indicators and bicycle bells. So, when a shopper decides they are exiting the main aisle to turn down the food processor aisle, she puts on her right indicator so the person on back of her does not shove a shopping cart up her ass.
I love the idea of bicycle bells. How many times have you been standing in the fruit/ vegetable room dying of hypothermia, because you are stuck behind Marge and Janet who are catching up on their grand-kids? You politely say, “excuse me?” “excuse me?” “Can I get by you?” “Fuck Janet, call her when you get home. I’m freezing to death here!”
The bicycle bell will save you from having a complete menopausal meltdown and from getting your Costco card revoked. You just pull that little lever until the gabby gals move. Costco would sound like Christmas on steroids every day!
Don’t even get me started on the parking lot. I would like Costco to block the nearest parking spaces to their building every Saturday afternoon and allow a youth group like the cadets, scouts or a sports team to sell the parking spots off to raise money for their organization. Shoppers can buy a spot for $20 for an hour. As each shopper leaves, the spot can be resold. Cheap bastards can park over by Kent’s.
I know what you’re thinking; “why doesn’t she run the world?” I am wondering that myself.
I’m thinking when the Costco executives read my blog they will be on the phone to their head-hunters and I’ll have my contract signed by Saturday.
Oh sure laugh now, but next Saturday when you’re racing down the wrong side of the aisle to get to the huge apple pies don’t be surprised when you hear the shrill of my whistle, and I pull you over near pork chops asking ‘excuse me Ma’ma can I see your Costco card?”