My first Costco experience (Or the worst of American consumer culture comes to Japan)

This past weekend, I had my first experience going to Costco. There's one up in Sapporo, on the road that we take when we drive up from Eniwa to the city. It takes maybe 20 or 30 minutes, depending on traffic. I had never set foot in a Costco before this. I had been to a Sam's Club once, back in university when I made a trip with some teammates from the ultimate team as we were preparing for a spring break trip to a tournament in Georgia. We were going to be camping for a week, with 25 people, so large quantities of food stuffs were essential.

But that's been my only experience with these gargantuan members only mega-box stores.

So, on Saturday, my girlfriend wanted to go to Costco and become a member so she can go every now and again. I begrudgingly said yes, even though I wasn't really excited to go. I'm not really a big fan of the standard big-box stores. I'll go to them, if I have a definite shopping list.

But these uber-stores are completely unappealing, even if I have a defined shopping list. There's just something about them that gives me the impression that people are buying a lot of crap just because they can. Not because they really need it. I mean, who really needs to buy 5 pounds of potatos in a single go? Who needs 24 gigantic muffins at a time? For the fomer, restaurants. The latter, an office that has a communal kitchen with donuts and the like. But an individual, or even a family? Sorry. I can't see it.

So we enter into Costco, and up front, when my girlfriend asks me, I tell her that, no, I'm not excited about coming. In fact, I'm looking forward to this about as much as a root canal. But I'm willing to be a good trooper for an hour or so. And my things that are likely to be objectionable to the store make themselves apparent to me immediately. For starters, the shopping carts that are larger than a Mini Cooper. Seriously, who needs to put a set of tires in a shopping cart. And then there's the fact that you do not have the option of taking the stairs down from the roof parking to the floor. I'm the type of guy who prefers to take stair up or down anything that's less than 4 floors, often more. But you don't have that option here. It's either take the moving, sloped walkway or the elevator.

And then there's the fact that to even enter the sales floor, you or someone in your party must be a member of their (not very) exclusive club. I'm sorry, but how do I know whether or not I want to be a member if I don't get to have a look see before I commit \4000. Which is admittedly a moot point, as I had zero desire to become a member before I went, and now that I have been, I have even less desire.

There's also a lot of attempts to make the place and the workers more Americanized. The name tags are written in the Roman alphabet, with only the workers' given names. Assuredly, everyone who would go to Costo can read Japanese names written in their Romanized forms. But still, a bit odd. And there was the urinal, which was an American Standard brand, when Japan is perfectly capable of making, and in fact probably makes even better than the US. Japan leads the world in toilet technology, aftrer all. Have you seen our heated seat, bidet and spray weilding, mountain stream sound producing to mask your urination, toilets with high and low flow flushes?

But for some reason, the urinals were American. As were the paper cups and lids at the concession stand, manned by an appropriately surly employee. Japanese sales staff are usually obnoxious in their chipperness. It's one of those things that makes foreigners think that Japanese people are super polite.* Having grown up in the States, where the phrase "Buy American" carries a certain weight, using American paper cups and lids, when Japan produces plenty of these items domestically, seemed a little strange. Admittedly, Japan's unemployment numbers are lower than in the States, but the numbers are still high by Japanese norms.

And then there was the store itself. Or should I say the warehouse. Because that's really what a Costco is. It's a warehouse that happens to be used as a store. Maybe for some, that's part of the appeal of these places. But for me, it's a complete turn off. I don't mind shopping in a warehouse when it's a goofy warehouse wholesale clearance kind of thing. But for buying my groceries? Nope. Not cool. And the fact that everything is in bulk. Again, for some folks, that's convenient. Buy food or ballpoint pens or what ever it is for the next decade. But it's not as though the prices of most of the items were that good. Sure, some of the prices were great. But a lot of the items we looked at, the things we eat every week, were no cheaper, and in some cases more expensive than at our local supermarket.

The one good thing I will say for Costco is this. They have chunky peanut butter. Which I love. It's not something that you can find in every grocery store in Japan. It's not as though it's impossible to find. But as often as not, there is no chunky. Only creamy. So we did buy a giant tub of Skippy chunky peanut butter. And a giant jar of pickles, and some feta cheese.

We spent about \3000 at Costco, which is probably about as little as anyone could expect to spend there. And if I can help it, I won't be going back very often. If the girlfriend wants to go, I'll drop her off and tell her to call me when she's done. I'll be somewhere else.

*They are, in certain settings. In other settings, Japanese people are incredibly rude.