I have a love/hate relationship with Costco. What’s not to love about 36 rolls of toilet paper and ginormous jars of peanut butter? But what I hate are my fellow shoppers. Whether I’m at Costco or anywhere else, I shop like a man. I don’t stroll. I have a list and a purpose. Get in, get out of my way, and go home.

One key to surviving a trip to Costco is to get there early. By doing this, you can avoid the masses clogging every aisle desperate to get a sample of some food or another. Are you really that hungry? I mean, if you can afford Costco, you can afford to buy some damn food, you mooch! Besides, if you’ve had one kebab, you’ve had them all.

I’m beginning to think that Costco is the new “hip” place for retirees to mingle. Aside from gathering around the communal sample trough, you can find senior citizens chatting with old pals in the pharmacy department. Whether it’s commiserating over colonoscopies or harping about heartburn, Costco is the place to be and be bitchy for the over 70 set.

Costco is like other places in the summer when it comes to children. THEY ARE EVERYWHERE AND THEY ARE IN YOUR WAY. I think Costco could make a fortune if they offered on-site daycare. Stop those little rugrats from screaming and running down the aisles and stick them in a room with some books and toys you couldn’t sell and everybody’s happy. Hey, you can feed the kids the damn food samples!

My most recent pilgrimage to the Church of Costco wasn’t too bad on the whole, aside from the damage to my checking account. I didn’t hit anyone in the shins with my cart (though it was very tempting) and surprisingly, there wasn’t a long line to pay. I did wonder where everyone was, however. Then I remembered. They were gulping down gouda and goldfish crackers in aisle five.