There is Costco in England, actually. There are 29 locations.
The closest one is in Thurrock, which is only 20 minutes away from Upminster. So, although I lost a lot of things I loved in immigrating to England, Costco technically wasn't one of them.
Here's what happened.
January 4th, 2023.
We are headed to Costco for the first time.
After a disorienting multitude of roundabouts, we stopped in the crowded parking lot. The sign was the same, the carts were the same, even the employees’ red vests were the same. In a moment— Costco was offering me something that I genuinely loved to do on a Wednesday afternoon. The excitement was growing as we looked for a cart.
I am lightly suppressing ecstasy by the time we reach the doors, because the entrance is 90% identical to the one at home — which is 4,988 miles away.
The attendant scanned my Citi Costco Visa card with her laser beam — it blinked red and alerted her that I would have to go over to the Membership Counter. I reassured myself that this was just a temporary hiccup in the overall experience.
In truth, I only spent about 15 minutes at the infamous Membership Counter. Yet I came away from this encounter with a sense of despair and fear — perhaps thinking that my dignity had been irrevocably injured.
The Countess of Membership Counter was a short, middle-aged woman with short, grey hair. I refuse to disparage retail workers, so I’ll just say that she was short with me.
She looked me in the eye and told me that the computer told her that my membership was invalid. Thus, I will have to apply for a new membership if I want to shop there more than twice a year as a "guest".
The mood now has now shifted along with the power dynamic. I was no longer in the “inner ring” of Costco membership. I was now a questionable, aspiring applicant.
The first question of the Thurrock Costco verbal membership application interview is:
1. What is your occupation?
I start to panic.
Fumbling to explain how I am between jobs temporarily at the moment here because you see I used to be a public accountant in the United States of America but then fell in love with a beautiful British citizen who is fine young woman here beside me today and I moved here because of love your honor and perhaps religious conviction.
However, my actual answer was a bit more mumbled and less convincing.
Please do remember that this short, middle-aged grey woman whom I am petitioning is a top corporate brass executive officer — on the cusp of becoming the regional vice director of Membership Services.
She does not entertain this excuse.
Internally, I was livid— but I knew I had no recourse. I was in their world now.
Yes, it is true that we Americans built the damn company and probably gave the English 29 stores for tax purposes.
But!
There were no Americans around to corroborate this!!
I walked away from this counter encounter with an intense feeling of bitterness that has evidently not been fully processed.
After several months, I could acknowledge that unresolved anger had been projected onto the British Isles and that this whole Costco experience thing was actually a pretty bland, unremarkable story. It is not a story of gross injustice and corporate xenophobia.
Turns out — I was a bewildered, desert lad who felt far from home and deserted by God.
This discovery is further confirmed by the stories’ conclusion, which is that immediately after we left the Costco Membership Counter — we walked right into the store.
Holding the temporary day-pass that the short, middle-aged woman had given me.
And yeah, the Costco experience was good okay, it was everything you would expect from a Costco. They had large quantities of quality home goods and food, but that's not the point okay !!
Point is, nearly all of that confused Anglo-Saxon anger is resolved now. I have healed thyself.
And also for some reason, this experience is still filed away in a dark corner of my amygdala — waiting to be randomly accessed at a future dinner party. The moment someone mentions the Revolution War.
