Costco Fan

"Are you in this line? Or that one?"

I wanted to give some insights into the customer experience at my local Costco Store in Northern California, and to provide an example of the type of attitude that exemplifies the Costco employee.

As you know, Costco uses a complex algorithm to close enough check stands in order to maintain what I call the “Costco Fan.” (Hence, the title of this diddy.) That is, the checkout lines fan out from the check stands bending to the north toward electronics and to the south toward the pharmacy.

The idea is to have the lines just long enough so as to avoid hindering sales in electronics and prescriptions, and just short enough so that the customers don’t machine gun each other in line.

This is a delicate balance and can only be validated by watching and listening to the end-of-line customers. One will invariably turn to another and say, “Are you in this line or that one?” The response is usually a quivering lip and a simple look of utter despair. When this occurs, the algorithm is running like a top.

I was working my way toward the front of the store with enough supplies in my cart to support a third world country until the next millennium. My cart looked like a float in the Mardi Gras parade.

I had just hove into the front of the store when something miraculous happened. There was an open checkout lane! A light shone down from above and I honestly believe that I heard choirs of angels singing.

There was one customer just finishing up paying and no one waiting. I glanced left and right, and realized this event had not been noticed by the north and south “fans.” I made my move.

My heart leapt as I brought 'er around 12 degrees and adjusted my sights on the check stand. But, just as I began to roll, I looked over and noticed the floor manager standing by the merchandise pick-up area. She had seen the situation as well. We stared at each other for a moment and I heard spaghetti western music playing in the background.

I had the distance advantage, being only perhaps a quarter of the distance that she was from the register. She, however, had the weight advantage. Whereas, I was pushing a small planet, she was only carrying a clipboard, a pencil on her ear, and a radio on her hip. We both bolted for the register.

I have to admit I was feeling pretty smug throughout the foot race. I thought for sure that I would win. But at the last moment, in a move that was reminiscent of Michael Jordan launching himself from the top of the key, she lunged.

She laid out flat, about four feet off the floor, grabbed a handy “This Lane Closed” sign on her way, slapped the sign on the end of the check stand, rocketed past the front of my cart, tucked and rolled once, coming up to a full standing position like an Olympic gymnast. She hadn’t even lost the pencil on her ear!

I was stunned. Worse, I had forgotten my speed. I threw it into full reverse, released the drone chute, fired the retro-rockets, locked up the binders and dug my feet into the concrete floor.

Unfortunately, instead of my Keds, I was wearing a cheap pair of flip-flops and they burned off my feet instantly in a thick cloud of white smoke. My cart slammed into the check stand like a Seattle ferry into the Orcas Island dock. Heads were turning as far away as four lanes to the north and south, and I knocked the “This Lane Closed” sign to the floor.

With the flair of a seasoned Costco employee, the floor manager casually picked up the sign, replaced it on the check stand, gave me a smile and a wink, and strolled away with more than a little swagger in her walk.

After a quick damage assessment, I believe the only thing I lost (my self-respect notwithstanding), was a two-year supply of allergy medication that was crushed by a 55 gallon drum of cocktail sauce that shifted forward in my cart.

Defeated, I made my way to the electronics department. I remember at the time asking someone, “Are you in this line or that one?”

I didn’t catch the floor manager’s name as she bolted by me, but it was the Folsom, CA store if they wish to present her with a pallet of sliced green beans or something…

Let me know about your Costco stories at syegge@gmail.com

by S. Arthur Yegge, Philosopher