zen and the art of reciprocal hemorrhoids

Mr Troll goes to Costco

For our first eight years together, I bought the groceries most of the time.

This realization came to me when I reminded Laura about shopping at Costco on the Kingsway in Toronto.

We didn’t get a Costco membership till we moved here she protested.

FAKE NEWS! I went there often. You were sick or working on your Phd. I bought the groceries.

Eventually she conceded this point.

I hate grocery stores - what with their carts and the people whose missing chromosomes make their spatial decisions questionable at best I’d roar through a grocery store like a NASCAR driver ‘tradin’ paint’.

Eventually Laura got tired of listening to me rage at all of the stupids that I would encounter. She didn’t stop me from going. She just got tired of my complaining.

But remember Dear Reader, I’m a troll.

And that was when I’d troll my wife.

I did it in two ways.

First?

I’d never get the correct thing. Whether it was brand or size or flavour or quantity, I’d fuck it up on purpose.

Next?

I’d ‘forget’ things on the list of vital importance.

My brothers, if you do something terribly enough long enough there’s a woman somewhere who feels compelled to take over.

And in our house, this couldn’t be more true.

These days when I go to these things called ‘grocery stores’ I tell people that I’m ‘just visiting’ and that this is a job my wife does.

THAT gets great reactions - especially from some of the beings in total control of herselfs.

I’m not supposed to be here. My wife does the intake, I deal with the outflow - including ‘plumbing issues’ when they arise.

This statement garners daggers of sympathy piercing icily into my heart.

The thing is?

I’m married. We’re good. What some random women think about me and the ‘equity’ of my home matters as much to me as what I flushed this morning. With such liberty, it’s fun to wind people up.

But dear readers, today was a sad day. Though we’ve had a Costco membership for a year and a half now, I have failed repeatedly to go and get my own card.

No card, no entry. It’s that simple.

No entry and I don’t have to put up with the orgy of idiocy that is a Costco store.

That was up until today.

Today this arsehole was feeling generous and loving and volunteered to go and get my own card and do some shopping.

No I wasn’t stoned. Nor drunk.

Neither had I self lobotomized earlier in the afternoon.

Though when I went there this evening, I behaved as though I had.

The first thing I did when standing behind the boiserous woman talking loudly on speaker phone, I called up my buddy Randy. Randy’s always good for an inappropriate conversation. I put him on speaker too. I then proceeded to speak loudly and share my conversation with the woman in the membership line in front of me.

Funnily enough?

She didn’t think that I was being polite.

Whaddare you doin’ buddy? Can’t you see you’re interrupting my conversation? You’re rude.

Oh. Pot, meet kettle.

She sucked her teeth and called me a name.

But the Costco employees saw this unfolding and were quick to move us to the front of the various lines we needed to be in. I quickly ditched Randy and assumed my civil mask for the dude at the membership desk. He was fine. What really struck me though was how my misbehaviour made things better.

This is kinda cool, I thought to myself. If I act like a total douchebag, maybe things will be easier.

With that in mind, I got my card, a shopping cart and ventured forth.

My first action was to pretend that I was stupid. Really stupid. Like completely oblivious to the world and everyone around me levels of stupid. I put in my headphones and turned the music up loud.

Then?

Then I just walked very slowly in a straight line. When there were people in front of me, I pretended they weren’t there and just kept going.

Next?

I stood at every free sample place and blocked the entryway to each and every isle while I discussed the product loudly with the sales rep. In doing so I created a traffic jam in Dartmouth that caused an earthquake in Japan that caused the angry orange Turnip in ‘Merica to burst one of his opulent hemorrhoids. - The biggest hemorrhoids, the best hemroids, the greatest hemorrhoids every -RECIPROCAL HEMORRHOIDS!

My apologies dear reader, the Costco stupid hasn’t worn off yet.

The whole time I was there I made it a point to use my cart to block every isle and get in everyone’s way. When people tried to speak to me, I pretended that I was having a conversation with my wife.

I acted like I was the only person in the world. I moved slowly and didn’t hesitate to go where I wanted.

It was glorious.

I felt like a real Costco shopper. All I needed were a few kids to dangle from my shopping cart and sketchy random relatives to run interference for me.

I’ve always felt anxious in big box stores. There have been times that I’ve felt overwhelmed and on the verge of shutting down. Other times I’ve raced though them as though I were fighting in the Donbas.

My governing narrative was always

I want to be liked. I don’t want people to think I’m an arsehole, or I really can’t believe how other people can be so inconsiderate of others.

By playing stupid and being completely inconsiderate of others, I found an inner stillness and an inner strength that I didn’t believe was possible in such a chaotic envirnoment.

In order to inhabit Costco, I had to embody and become Costco.

It was a true moment of trolling Zen.

I’ve never had such a moment of simple peace.

Proud that I survived so well at the cash I bragged to the dudes checking out my groceries about how I managed to avoid Costco for so long.

You guys really need to open another store soon. The staff here are great but this line is longer than the one I stood in waiting for Rush tickets back in 89’.

He smirked. We are sir. It will be announced in the next year we think.

Well, there goes my fun I shrugged to myself.

But a funny thing happens when you fuck around.

There’s always that moment when you find out.

Call it the cosmic kiss of death, but my bragging may have caused a commotion in the universe.

You’re card’s not working sir.

Now. We had just sold the ‘outgo’ property. I know that there is PLENTY of money in that account.

But their machine wasn’t having it. The inner stillness I had found in my "Costco stupid" evaporated, replaced by the familiar heat of anxiety rising in my chest. The universe, it seemed, had a different lesson in mind than "trolling Zen."

My face turned redder than the vests the employees wear. I was so embarrassed.

You could try the bank machine down past the dollar fifty hot dogs. Maybe it will work. We’ll keep your stuff there.

Like a young woman in a party dress with messy hair and impractical shoes at eleven on a Sunday morning, I did the walk of shame.

Luckily, the machine provided me with a moment of redemption.

That was lucky, I said to the clerk It would have defeated the whole point of me being here if I had to call my wife to come bail me out.

That brief, bizarre peace I found in chaos was fragile indeed.

He smiled generously. Well, if you get our Mastercard, it might prevent this from happening again.

I thought about his offer a moment, then remembered how little I like grocery stores.

No sir, that won’t be necessary. Mistakes like this could come in handy some day.

Remember fools,

Sometimes, even in the midst of fucking around, you might just stumble upon a strange kind of peace. But don't be surprised when the universe reminds you that true stillness might require a different path.

And if that happens often enough?

It’s good to have an escape plan.

Grocery stores are for chumps.

Stay foolish you fiends!