Bulking Up

And now for something completely different:

My roommate and I went shopping at Costco yesterday, after he persuaded me that buying in bulk was the cost-effective and masculine thing to do. I didn’t have a huge grocery list or anything – I just wanted to purchase the ingredients I would need to make a favorite dish of mine. My mother and I invented it when I was quite young. She was improvising on the ingredients to use, so I helped with a few random suggestions and, if I remember correctly, was allowed to stir. My mother indulgently named the result after me, which was quite an honor because up to that point I had never had any sort of food bear my name.

So I was in Costco with my roommate, buying the ingredients for Matt salad, when I began to get frustrated with the whole “buying in bulk” thing. I needed a bag of noodles, as Matt salad is a variation of the popular pasta salad, but you cannot buy a bag of noodles at Costco. You can only buy eight to ten bags. A can of olives? Forget about it! There’s only jars and cases and boxes full! I began to get grumpy, so my roommate explained that in the long run I would save money by buying a pack of ten bags of noodles rather than buying just one.

His argument makes sense – when applied to any other human being but me. If I had ten bags of noodles in my cupboard, I would never use them. Most likely I would forget they were there altogether, as I regularly buy food that I forget I have. Now I spent money on ten bags of noodles, nine of which disappear of the face of the planet only to be discovered when I move, and all I needed in the first place was a single package!

I guess the bulk thing is alright, but I don’t know if its really my thing. Something about the whole place began to feel a bit… excessive. You know, like mansions with five hundred rooms kind of excessive. Its hard for me not to feel like its going a little overboard to buy a gallon of soy sauce, or a bucket of mustard. Its difficult not to remember there are starving people in Africa when I’m looking at a massive barrel of applesauce on sale for five bucks (which is perhaps the wrong thing to think of, because who knows if Africans even like applesauce? Lots of people don't.) Logically, I understand the economic benefit of buying in bulk, and I understand why Costco is such a hot spot especially if you are feeding a family. On my birthday I spent an afternoon with my grandmother and most of my aunts, who spent a long time taking turns to talk about their favorite thing to buy at Costco. For the busy mother, buying in bulk is clearly a great blessing. Something about it makes me uncomfortable, and its difficult for me to put my finger on why.

Under the great dome of Costco, I stand amazed at the world we live in, enjoying economic success unlike any generation or age before us. I know not everybody in the past or even in the present was/is able to enjoy the same benefits, so I begin to feel guilty that I’m so lucky. I feel the same kind of guilt when I look in the mirror and realize I’m one sexy, talented piece of man flesh. It’s the guilt that comes with great blessings that you don’t feel you deserve.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have ten bags of noodles worth of Matt salad to consume. You should come over and have some.