“We are together,” I mouth to the woman standing at the door wearing a down vest and glasses. I gesture wildly toward Pam and our two girls who are sitting with their dolls in the shopping cart. And I hold up my black Executive membership card in plain sight.
Suddenly the Costco police — dressed in black t-shirts and sneakers and carrying box cutters — descend upon us and ask us to prove that we live in the same household. We are forced to show both of our names on our joint checking account. It’s not enough. We are taken to separate rooms and interrogated. I say that Pam hates the bran bread in the bakery, but loves the whole wheat. She doesn’t mention this. Instead, she says that we need cheddar cheese. But I say that we don’t, because we already have some in the freezer. Instead, I say that we need a plastic bag the size of a pillow case full of spinach. She says that we’re not getting spinach, because we’ll never eat it all before it goes bad.
Will Sarah make it into Costco…find out over at 7 Little Mexicans