*I* am the Asshole at CostCo

The only difference between me and all the other assholes at CostCo is that I'm doing it on purpose because I hate you.

CostCo is a miserable experience that begins before you even get to the store. For me, it doesn't even begin when you get to the parking lot. It begins when I enter the quarter-mile radius surrounding the store where the asshole concentration has increased significantly over the ambient asshole levels.

A typical CostCo experience goes along these lines:

• You pull into the parking lot, hopeful you can get a space somewhat close to the store. As you turn into the row of your choice (it doesn't actually matter which), there is a family packing up their car and some dumbass SUV/minivan/unnecessarily large pickup in the middle of the lane with their turn signal on as if there is a worldwide parking space shortage. The vehicle waiting for the space is invariably too close to the space he's waiting for so that the person occupying the space can't possibly pull out anyway. And even if they could, they couldn't go anywhere because there is a asshole blocking the whole parking lot aisle so that nothing can get through. You look behind you to perhaps back out of this situation, but of course there are 3 cars at a minimum behind you at this point. Meanwhile, you spot at least half a dozen spaces in the adjacent rows so you begin kicking yourself the being optimistic about the parking lot. The asshole in the parking space will hasn't left. Sure he's started his car and his foot is on the brake, but he's not leaving. what the fuck is that asshole doing in there? When all hope seems to be lost and you begin to contemplate suicide, the asshole in the space finally has pulled out and eventually the obnoxiously large vehicle has finally pulled into the space (mind you, it took him a few tries) and your way is clear, so you proceed forward to get to another row to park.
• ...Except that now there are people walking in the middle of the lane, completely oblivious to the fact that there is a vehicle behind them. So you drive forward at walking pace (so slow your speedometer can't register an accurate reading) and reach the end of the aisle, where you have to turn. But you can't turn because again there are people all over the place like ants on a fucking watermelon. And woe be unto you if you choose the wrong aisle in the parking lot for your next attempt or else you'll be waiting for the next asshole to pull into a spot when there are plenty in the next row.
• So finally you have parked and it's time to go in the store; you need a cart. But there's some asshole who has just pulled out a cart and positioned it perpendicularly to the other carts while he's on his phone or some stupid shit, effectively blocking all the carts. You politely wait for him to scamper off in the search of the savings within before you can finally get your cart. As you do, assholes with carts who have just left the store suddenly rally behind you and stop for some dumb fucking reason. What should have taken you 30 seconds on a bad day to acquire a cart has now reached several minutes!
• Once in the store, the assholery continues. The aisles are pretty goddamn wide, so clearly every asshole in the store needs to push their cart down the goddamn middle of them with their 7 kids (or overweight spouse for the childless) taking up the rest of the way. Guess what? They're in every fucking aisle. You're fucked.
• What's that? Free samples? Perhaps you'll find a new delicious product you didn't know about before and purchase. So you put your cart somewhere out of the way and get in the line for your free sample. A new tray of samples comes forth! Before you have your chance, the grubby unwashed hands of the masses have already captured every last morsel. Should you wait another 3 minutes for a sample? The choice is yours.
• Now you'd like to get back to your cart, but multiple assholes have double parked their carts around yours! The aisle is practically unnavigable. Maybe suicide in the parking lot was a good option. Or perhaps homicide.
• After bravely navigating the throngs of overweight people, unsupervised children, and self-absorbed douchebags, it's finally time to check out. When your sticker shock subsides and you collect yourself after begrudgingly paying several hundred dollars for crap you didn't need, it's time to leave.
• ...At least it would be if there weren't a dozen carts blocking and egress from the store because the owners are in line for a 50-cent hot dog while their frozen foods rapidly thaw and will hopefully give their owners relentless diarrhea for days on end. You push on through and get your receipt checked.
• ...But the fuckwit at the front of the 15-person long receipt checking line can't find it. It was handed to him barely 90 seconds ago and he fucking lost it. A courteous person would pull his cart aside to search for his receipt. But no, he is parked squarely in the middle of the lane, blocking anyone's chance of getting around him. And in all that time, you would think the next person would have their receipt ready to go, but this woman is incredibly fat and so absorbed in her hot dog it's a miracle she didn't eat the paper tray it came in.
• Once you get your receipt checked, you could make a beeline for your car... if the person in front of you hadn't just stopped to block the exit, apparently to file the receipt into their increasingly complex pocket filing system. And how about now's a great fucking time for them to check their phone, a task that could be completed do while moving. Could, but isn't.
• By the time you get to your car, some asshole in their dumbass SUV/minivan/unnecessarily large pickup has stopped in the middle of the lane with their turn signal on as if there is a worldwide parking space shortage, waiting for your space. You would love to leave, but guess what? They're too fucking close. When they eventually get the fucking message that you can't move until they move, you start to back out, just to slam on your brakes as a family emerges from nowhere, inches from your car and led by a gaggle of barely supervised children.
• Eventually, you have successfully navigated the parking lot, full of people texting while driving and idiots walking down the center of the lanes. Your thoughts change slowly from suicide to grabbing a soup spoon and digging into your gallon drum of mayo.

Enough of these trips to CostCo and I stopped attempting to get around people or even acknowledging them. When I go to CostCo these days, I drive down the middle of the parking lot. I walk down the center of every aisle with my cart. I leave my cart in the way. I am the hand that comes from nowhere to steal your free sample. I am the one that sits in my car with the engine running and in reverse, but I'm not going anywhere for a few minutes. There's not a goddamn thing you can do about it, either, because I've taken it a step further: I'm wearing headphones. Why do I do all this? Because fuck you.