The Costco Gestapo

A few years ago while trying to get together a large fundraising campaign at work we decided that we needed supplies from Costco for a snack bar. Now I’m not one to keep a card like that, mostly I can’t afford it and when I have had it in the past it didn’t get used as often as I wanted to, to justify the price of the membership. In addition anyone that does own a Costco or Sam’s Club card knows that they tend to spend far more than they intended to, than when they walked in. Back to the story at hand, I tried in vain to find someone that would go with me that had a card; it’s amazing how busy people become in the middle of the afternoon on a Friday. Instead my boss decided to give me his card figuring there would be no problem and I wouldn’t have to bother anyone with the shopping process.


So off I go, I get into the store just fine; get my supplies, making very good time and head over to the check out aisle. Here’s where the problem starts, most of the time they scan your card and hand it back to you, I know from past experience they don’t check the name and, as long as you’re paying cash you don’t usually have a problem. My mother and I shop all the time together she has a card, pay’s for her stuff with a check or ATM card, I come through after with her card, pay cash and we’re good to go. This was not the case that day, the gentlemen behind the counter; scan’s the card, looks at it and passes it off to another guy waiting in the wings. I’m thinking this is odd but not worrying too much about it since they’re still scanning my order and making some small talk. We get to the total I pull out my cash and he stops to look at me,

“Who is Bob Brown?” he asks me loudly

I’ve prepared for this before I came in, thinking of all of the scenarios that might come up and decide the best approach is to lie – just a little fudge mind you nothing too big since most people will see right through a big lie.

“My dad.”

“Do you know he has the wrong type of card?”

Wrong type of card? Ok I had not prepared for this one, and what does that mean? He’s using a wholesale one when he’s not supposed to?

“I’m sorry no I wasn’t aware of that” I say quietly trying not to draw too much attention to myself. It’s not working too well as the annoyed crowd starts to build behind me, and it doesn’t help that now the cashier is starting to look really puffy.

“You know its people like you,” – great here we go, I’m waiting for him to grab one of the cardboard boxes and start preaching to everyone in the checkout section “that make our jobs so complicated. There should be a photo on this card so we can identify who’s using it at the start of the transaction.”

“Sir, I am truly sorry, I had no idea and I’m sure my dad didn’t either” now that I’ve gone down this road I’m going to need to play it out to the bitter end. I’m quickly deciding what my options are and if tears are going to need to be involved to get me out safely with my stash. Oh yes I’ve decided I’m leaving with my stash, most would just walk away from the situation but now I’m determined that regardless of this man who has decided I am dirt, and all of these people are staring at me, I’ll be damned if I’m walking out with my head down and empty handed.

“Well what do you want me to do about it?” he asks, “technically we’re not supposed to let you purchase anything and we should probably hold you here until your dad comes down to get his picture taken and can purchase these items himself” wonderful, he’s not buying the dad bit now what? He starts to motion to another man off to the side I’m frantically trying to figure out what to do – should the tears start now? No then he’ll know you’re caught and you’re not making out alive. Hold me? Where are they going to hold me? And can they do that? I guess so I mean you’re a paying member to get in here I’m sure they can do whatever they want to. I wonder if they have a room. I wonder what type of room it is, I bet it’s small and smells bad, like rotten food or something with lots of pallets and spare boxes. I wonder if it has an old metal chair in the middle bolted to the floor with a single bright light bulb above. Great what am I going to tell people at work about this? I got held at Costco for using Steve’s card? He had to come bail me out of Costco for fraud? “I don’t know what happened to Sarah, she went into Costco one afternoon and never came out, you know they have a secret police force there that catches you and send you off to work as a slave in foreign countries”. Ok get it together the crowd is starting to get restless and there are a number of men walking quickly towards you. Wait this one looks important he’s wearing a button down and a tie, talk to him he’s your ticket out of her.

“Sir, are you the manager? Yes? good, I am so very sorry for this confusion we had no idea that the policy had changed on your membership cards, I told my dad” I turn slightly back to the cashier with a look “since he’s so busy at work at the moment that I would come down for him and pick up the supplies for my brothers birthday party this evening. Had either of us though this would be a problem he would have gotten off his conference call with the President of his company to take care of it…..” then just for a bit of luck I managed to squeeze out one tear to show my fear and embarrassment.

“Ah oh, no dear that won’t be necessary” he stammers uncomfortably “now it’s nothing to cry about, we’ll get this taken care of right now, you ah, what’s your total? Ah a see ok do you have the money to pay for everything”

“Yes sir” I sniffle

“OK, well, we’ll ah, have to hold the card until your ah, dad comes down to take his picture but… go ahead and take your items and we’ll get this worked out later.”

“Oh thank you so much, and again I’m very sorry for all of the trouble” I smile brightly at the manager as the cashier is burning holes into the side of my face. He takes my money doesn’t bother to ask me if I need help out , which I don’t and wouldn’t have taken anyway but, they’re still supposed to ask After all I’m still a paying customer. And follows me out of the store, “You know it is people like you that make this job such a pain”

“Well, thank you for your insight I’m sure it’ll do me no good in the real world” And off I go to my car. Thinking all the while that I’ve escaped from the Costco Gestapo and they didn’t take my soul or sell me to slave traders.