My Punishment

Last night Scott and I attended a screening of RiffTrax LIVE featuring a riffing of the hilariously execrable Manos:  The Hands of Fate.
I knew I wouldn’t be getting home until well past my bedtime, so, as I can always use a day off anyway, I decided to schedule a vacation day for today.
As I invariably do, I made use of the time off from work to make a Costco run, either because it’s much more convenient and the place is less crowded if I go on a weekday morning, because I hate myself and feel like I need to be punished for taking the time off from work, or some combination of the two.
Even though the place is much less crowded in the morning, making it much less painful and annoying than going in the evening or – *Shudder* – on the weekend, I still hate going there, and I think that, more than the allure of slightly cheaper gadgets and bulk quantities of laxatives – or whatever the hell it is I spend so much money on when I go there – I still really, really dislike the place.
I guess that, in the absence of work, I have a need to go someplace where I don’t want to go.

****

To add to the First World Problem-style annoyance of “having” to go to Costco, before I left this morning I found that I had lost my membership card.
So when I got there, I had to go to the Member Services desk to get a new one.  I was fortunate in that there was no line, and the process didn’t take long, but it still added up to additional precious minutes of my life wasted at Costco, precious minutes that I could have been wasting somewhere else.
After giving me my shiny new card, the woman behind the counter asked me if I needed a coupon book, or if I already had one.
”No thanks,” I said, “there wasn’t anything in it that I need.”
”Wow, you’re lucky if there’s nothing in there you need!  Only a man could say that.”

****

While I was standing in the parking lot smoking a cigarette before getting in the car, a little old lady who barely spoke English approached me and asked for some assistance.
It took some time for me to understand what it was she was asking me to do, but eventually I pieced it together.
She needed to see what kind of car battery she had, but she didn’t know how to pop the hood on her car so that she could look.
I’m glad that’s all it was, as that pretty much exhausted my knowledge of auto mechanics.

****

On the way home after the movie last night I stopped at a grocery store to pick up some things for the morning.
Having paused near the entrance to smoke a cigarette, I noted the two teenaged employees who were having a conversation while one of them was replacing the bags in the trash and recycling bins.  I came in on the tail-end of a conversation that made me sad:
Teen 1:  Who’s Alfred Hitchcock?
Teen 2:  You know, Alfred Hitchcock.  He was a famous director.
Teen 1:  Never heard of him.
That there was someone who is, presumably, old enough to drive, yet did not know who Alfred Hitchcock was made me feel old and sad.  Still, at least one of them knew who he was.
And then:
Teen 2:  I think he did, like, Citizen Kane or something.
*Sigh*

Shortly before I finished my cigarette, a manager was making her way out of the store (having finished her shift, apparently), and she began chastising the one who was working (and he did remain busy throughout the whole conversation) for talking to the non-working one in front of – gasp! – customers.

Teen 2:  He’s clocked out.
Manager:  But you’re not.  How do you think it looks?
Teen 2:  Well, I didn’t want to say, “Dude, you can’t talk to me.”
Manager:  Maybe you should have.

I kind of wanted to say, “Look, lady; these kids have shitty jobs at your shitty store.  They’re not hurting anyone by having a conversation while getting work done.  I mean, it’s not neurosurgery; changing a trash bag doesn’t require extreme concentration.  I worked in a grocery store for years; it’s a shitty, boring job and you can’t fault young people for finding some way to pass the time.  If some customer is bothered by the fact that they’re talking to each other, who gives a shit?  I can tell you that the whole ‘the customer is always right’ thing is bullshit.  If you’re going to yell at them for anything, yell at them for not knowing who Alfred Hitchcock was.”
But, of course, I didn’t say that, or anything, but I kind of wish I had.

Hatred? Yeah, I've Got That In Bulk.

The one area in which I vastly differ from writer/producer/blogger/man of many metaphorical hats Mark Evanier involves my feelings about Costco.

Mark Evanier is for it. I'm agin it.

And yes,that is clearly the only way in which we differ. In all other respects we're virtually identical.

Or, you know, not.

Still, he's an interesting guy who's led an interesting life, and has had a variety of interesting jobs, but while I have a great deal of respect for him and what he's achieved, I have to very respectfully disagree with him when it comes to his appreciation for the popular chain of wholesale stores.

"But Jon, what do you have against Costco?"

I'm glad that I imagined that you asked, and will now proceed to list the reasons.

Membership Doesn't Have Its Privileges

You have to pay an annual fee in order to be able to shop at Costco. This annoys me. Why? It just does. It's not like you really get anything in exchange for your membership fee other than simply being allowed to walk into the place and buy stuff. Wow, I'm a member of the elite!

Credits And Debits

Like millions of people the world over I have a debit/credit card for my checking account. It's a tremendously convenient aspect of modern life. At most of the places that I shop I use the "credit" option. After all, my bank is rather ubiquitous, so it's not difficult to find an ATM if I need cash, and the only advantage I can see to using the debit option is if you want to get cash back at the register. Given that at most places you actually get charged a fee for using the debit option, it's credit all the way for me. Except at Costco, which does not accept most major credit cards and requires you to use the debit option for your check card.

Savings? Really?

I don't really see the major savings involved in shopping at Costco, though that may be because I'm just...(looks around and counts) one man. Apart from a few household items and some non-perishable (or at least things that have a long shelf life), there aren't a lot of things that I need in bulk. Bulk amounts of food would languish uneaten in my house. So there aren't a lot of things that I buy large enough quantities of in the course of my life to really make Costco's bulk pricing add up to any significant savings. In fact, with the added costs of membership and debit fees, I might not be saving at all, especially since the unit prices really aren't that much cheaper than I could find at other places. Occasionally I'll see a really good deal on something, but most of the time, meh. And I don't understand the people who claim that major electronics are so much cheaper there than they are elsewhere. That's just a bald-faced lie, and if you say it, your face is bald and you're a liar.

Your Papers Please

I hate to Godwin the place, but every time I go to Costco I find myself imagining some jackbooted officer of the SS asking me for my papers when I have to - inconsistently; the people lurking at the entrance don't always look for it - hold up my membership card as I push the over-sized novelty shopping cart in through the entrance. It's even more annoying when I'm finally getting the hell out and I'm stopped so that my receipt can be examined and marked before I'm allowed to walk out the door. There's a sign on the wall that explains why this is being done. The sign says that it's to ensure that I didn't pay for something that I don't have, that I didn't get overcharged, and to prevent the receipt's "reuse." First question: how the fuck am I going to "reuse" a receipt? I realize that this is a loss-prevention tactic - they don't want me sneaking back in, grabbing another package of cheap socks, then idly strolling out the door without paying while waving my receipt and saying, "Hey, I paid for these socks, see?" Even so, the phrasing is just stupid. Also, do you really give a rat's ass if I paid too much for something? I think not.

The worst part is that, much like many Walmart "greeters" who stand there in stony silence, a good percentage of the receipt-checkers don't check shit. They just put their mark on the receipt and send you on your way. If that was all you were going to do, why not just let me keep going in the first place?

The Spice Of Life? Oh, We Don't Carry That

Another thing that really annoys me is the lack of variety. You can get a lot of a few things, but not some of a lot of things. There are a lot of things that I would buy in bulk - Sugar Free Rockstar, for example - if I could, even if I weren't getting significant savings, but I can't do so because Costco doesn't sell them. And some of the things I do buy come in assorted varieties that tend to favor the varieties I like least. So I end up with a lot of something I like, and even more of something that I don't, and that's the only way I can get a lot of the thing that I do like.

Hey Now, Hey Now...

I actually went to Costco today - which prompted this rant - because I had a doctor's appointment this morning and was working from home and I usually take advantage of having some time away from the office on weekday mornings to go to places that are inaccessible on weekends and evenings.

While I was waiting for my appointment with the doctor, Don't Stop Believing came on the office radio, which, of course, made me think of Family Guy. ("Is that Journey? That is Journey!")

That song has a strange effect on people. Most everyone there waiting started singing and humming along, or nodding their heads to the rhythm. It was still playing when I was brought back to the exam room, and even my nurse was humming along as she entered my vitals into the computer.

I only mention this because it amuses me, though it does start, eventually, to lead me to my final point. As I was at the counter making my next appointment and taking care of my co-pay, the song Don't Dream It's Over came on the radio, a song performed by Crowded House, and, after I left the doctor's office and headed to Costco, a crowded house is exactly what I walked into.

It wasn't as bad as it would be during the evening or on a weekend, but seriously, the place doesn't even open until 10, and it was only 10:10 when I got there, yet it was already packed full of people.

"Well if you hate it so much, why do you go there at all?"

Listen you smarmy bastards, if I'm going to imagine you asking questions, you damn sure better imaginatively be respectful. No one appreciates wise asses who think they're being clever by snarkily asking obvious questions.

I go there because while it doesn't have as wide a variety of things as I would like in many cases, there are things that I can use that can be purchased in bulk, some of which actually do save me some amount of money. I don't go there often, I go there only when it's least likely to be insanely crowded, I only go there after having mentally prepared myself for the awfulness of it, and I get out as quickly as I possibly can.

Also, I can get huge packages of blueberries. (Which I have to try to avoid eating in one sitting as soon as I get home.)

*****

Speaking of my doctor's appointment, the doctor recommended that, starting tomorrow, I cut back from taking my medication twice a day to taking it only once a day. The drawback is that I have to test my blood a little more frequently for a while to ensure that my sugar levels don't get out of whack.

Ideally, the endgame is for me to be off medication entirely, and at this point, it looks like I'm well on my way towards that.

I also learned that the key to my frustration regarding my post-workout sugar levels is patience. (It's always patience. Fucking patience.) Apparently I'd be better served to wait a while longer after working out to check my sugar, as the increased activity causes things to spike, and if I waited a while longer before checking they would most likely drop back down.

Evidently, years back, they did a test on some people competing in the Boston Marathon. They checked their sugar levels before the marathon, then checked them again as soon as they crossed the finish line. The second test showed their levels being way up, especially considering that these were people who weren't diabetics. However, they checked them again a half hour later and found that they were actually low or normal.

So...patience. Dammit.

That Didn't Happen

I had hoped to finish the picture I was working on in time to post it- with the hope of getting something posted before around 8, because...well, just because - but obviously that didn't happen.
I've done a fair amount of drawing this weekend, but don't really have anything to show for it. I've mostly been trying out different techniques and approaches, and finding that the end result is pretty much the same as what I get when I use my old techniques and approaches.
Meh.
Upon - finally - getting home Friday night I was pretty fried. Ten hours spent in meetings will do that to you, especially when four of those ten hours are spent in an "All Hands" meeting.
I'll just say I'm not a fan of them and leave it at that for now.
So I basically vegged out catching up on recorded TV.
Saturday I ventured out for the usual trip to the comic shop, but, having received a bunch of coupons in the mail, I decided to break the post-comic shop routine a little and go to Costco.
I knew it was going to suck, and it didn't disappoint in that regard, as I waded my way through a sea of crying children, oversized carts, and oversized asses.
I still ended up having to go to Target as there were some things I really didn't need to buy in bulk, and other things I couldn't find at all.
Today, as mentioned, I did some drawing.
And that pretty much brings us up to date.

Catching Up

One day last week I noticed that I was out of paper towels. I didn’t want to bother going out and buying some at the time, so I decided to just stop and pick some up on the way home from work the next day.
An exciting story, I know, but the point is that it got me to thinking about how there are some things – like paper towels – that I kinda-sorta buy in bulk, but the bulk quantities never seem to last quite long enough. This line of thought led me to conclude that I should finally bite the bullet and get a Costco membership.
So I went online and signed up and a few days later my card arrived.
On Saturday when I did my weekly venturing out into the world I stopped at the local Costco to activate my card.
I’ve been in Costco a few times with other people, but I never really paid that much attention because I wasn’t there actually shopping. When that dynamic changed on Saturday I noticed just how horrible the place is. It’s like something taken directly out of my nightmares; it doesn’t just have products in bulk, it has people in bulk.
Way, way, way too many people, and all of them in my way, scrambling to find the supposed deals that membership entails.
Speaking of deals, I have to say that I was unimpressed. People say you can save a lot by shopping there, and I’m willing to believe them, but I personally didn’t see much evidence. I saw a TV that was being sold at a decent but hardly phenomenal price, for example, but when I left and went next door to Target I saw the exact same TV being sold for the exact same price. What is that membership fee paying for, exactly?
I was also annoyed about the activation of my card, which involved getting my picture taken and printed on the card because god forbid someone should come in pretending to be me and save fifty cents on an industrial-sized tub of peanut butter or something.
Not really a big deal, but the principle of the thing just activated my Fuck You Reflex, which is related to my Suck My Dick Reflex and my Blow It Out Your Ass Reflex. Of course, that’s hardly surprising, given that most everything activates one (or more) of those reflexes. Fortunately, I have a pretty strong Restrain My First Reflex Reflex.
I know I’m going to have to go back at some point to justify the cost of the membership, but I don’t think it’ll be soon.
By the time I got out of there and got to Target I was in a pretty foul mood, which wasn’t helped at all by the equally obscene number of people there shopping, or the fact that everywhere I went there was a crying/screaming child. There was just no escaping them.
So I grabbed the bare minimum amount of stuff I needed and got the hell out of there, as the mantra I had been repeating to myself – I will not go insane I will not go insane I will not go insane i will not fucking go insane – wasn’t really doing the trick.
On Sunday I drove down to Reagan National Airport to pick up Scott.
I hate driving someplace for the first time, especially when it’s likely to involve a fair amount of traffic.
My GPS didn’t help matters any, choosing a bizarre and less than straightforward route to get me there.
Once I got there I decided to just park and wait inside, as the cell phone waiting area was tiny and cramped.
So I found the baggage claim area for his flight and sat down and waited, only to get a text message from him telling me that he was waiting outside, as he didn’t actually have any checked baggage.
Eventually we found each other and were on our way.
His flight didn’t get in until 9 PM, so, assuming that I’d have to drive him home, I figured it would be pretty late by the time I got home, sometime well past my usual bedtime. So in preparation I took a nap during the day and caffeinated myself pretty heavily in the afternoon.
Turns out he’d left his car parked at work, which put it essentially on my way home, so I ended up getting home much earlier than expected. The nap and caffeine had done the trick, and pretty much overpowered the Tylenol PM I took in an attempt to get to sleep.
Just as I was, finally, drifting off, my phone rang.
It was some sort of recorded “Public Safety Message” telling me that some undefined incident that had occurred earlier in the evening on my street was “under control” and that there was “no cause for alarm.”
If there’s no cause for alarm, why are you calling to wake me up at 12:30 in the morning?
I only want to be woken up if there is cause for alarm.
And thanks for being incredibly vague about this “incident” that I’m not supposed to be alarmed about. Was it a robbery? A murder? A terrorist attack? Seriously, referring to something as a generic “incident” doesn’t really inspire peace of mind.
The whole thing reminded me of Homer’s Everything’s OK Alarm on The Simpsons.
In any case, all of these things combined to make for a very tired Monday.
Now that Scott’s returned we’ll be reinstituting Riff Trax night, though this week we’ll actually be using it to see the latest Harry Potter movie.
And that – with the exception of the awesome facts that MTV’s The State: Complete Series came out on DVD today, I ordered it from Amazon for a great price, and will be receiving it on Thursday – is pretty much all that’s been going on since I last posted.