Sharing Shopping

This week I did something that I have wanted to do for more than twenty years: I shared a purchase at Costco with my sister.

I first visited Costco back when we lived in Connecticut, so by my calculation, that must have been in the early 1990s. It was a huge, barn-like store there, in Danbury, I believe (we lived in Woodbury), befitting its description in the history section of the current Costco website as "a warehouse store." Back then Costco only allowed small businesses to become members, and I was running my own small business as an information professional. So I was able to purchase a membership--I think it cost $40--and go shopping for all sorts of products useful for some businesses: food, cleaning supplies, office products like file folders and--this shows how long ago it was--fax paper, and computer supplies like floppy disks and software packages.

Although I was running a business, I was a sole proprietor and sole employee, so I wasn't too interested in--or trustful of--the software sold at Costco. I was interested in the food. And in that category, everything was in quantity. In gross quantities, actually. No way could I ever made use of the savings by buying chicken breasts in quantity or the huge slabs of beef or pork for roasts--even then our two-person household ate comparatively small amounts of meat over the course of a year. We had no place in our two-bedroom condo to store the 30 rolls of toilet paper and paper towels that you had to practically crawl onto the shelves to pull down anyway. Most importantly, I did not have anyone to go shopping and to share the big packages with. All my family lived 1000 miles to the west; since I worked from home I didn't have work colleagues that I saw every day; my professional association colleagues were all in southern Fairfield County, more than an hour south of where we lived; and we had just recently moved to Connecticut, so I didn't know many people anyway. So the things that I bought at Costco were few and far between. I don't remember deciding to stop going there, but I don't remember renewing my membership, either.

Now we are in Cincinnati, within short driving distances of three sisters. The Costco store is closer to my house than to the houses of any of my sisters, but I had not yet darkened its doors--except to buy a membership  for the next closest-to-Costco sister last Christmas. You no longer have to be a business to be a member of Costco; indeed, now there is a bewildering slate of membership options available for the general public, and it really makes no sense for a very small sole proprietorship to purchase a business membership. For one reason or another my sister had not used her gift card yet, so we celebrated May Day by making a joint excursion to activate her membership,

Much has changed in the last two decades. In this Costco, anyway, there is not even a pretense of a B2B focus. It's all about consumer items, and the inside of Costco now looks like any of the other big box behemoths in suburban commercial areas. Pallet stacking has given way to standing freezer and refrigerator cases and regular big bins. Food--much of it prepared meals--takes up the most space, but there are whole sections demonstrating that Costco wants to be your pharmacy, your travel agent, your home renovation provider, and your auto membership club, too.

My sister, who does major-league cooking for various church groups,  and I had a great time making our way through the aisles, accepting food samples and scouting out items that we both would like and might be able to split to "have on hand" for those times when we don't feel like really cooking. I was ecstatic to find fresh panko-breaded tilapia filets that need baking only for 18-20 minutes--they sounded like a possibility for one of the sandwiches in a Danish smørrebrød dinner for twelve that I am preparing for in June. This sister was not interested in fish, but we did fall for a package of 20 spinach-potato patties, frozen, that only needed heating in the oven.

Having made our first surveillance trip, we made our few purchases and drove back to our house. I got half the spinach-potato patties, individually wrapped, and stuffed them and a hand-written copy of the oven instructions in a freezer bag. For dinner that night Johannes and I enjoyed the baked tilapia (it is going to be perfect for that Danish stjerneskyd sandwich) with a potato patty and more vegetables. It was a treat. But the best treat is that I now live close enough to my sisters to be able to share the booty from occasional shopping trips  to the warehouse stores.