Sam’s club membership: Waste or worth it?

I went to Sam’s today to pick up a gallon bucket of mayo, packs of 123 razors and some other things.

On my way in the door, I thought, “Is this even worth the yearly fee?” So, then I put my judgment hat on and walked in the door.

This is not any ordinary door. It’s a monsoon walkway. Does this annoying blast of air save energy or something? I barely got all my hair dug out of my mouth when some retired old man at the end of the wind tunnel tossed some flyers into my cart (which remained there until I gave the cart to the ginge’ parking lot attendant).

In my mind I’m comparing prices of things I see. I’ve never done this because I didn’t really know how much most things cost. Who does? Extreme stuponers?

It’s me and a store full of septuagenarians looking for bargain-priced bulk items.

Toward the end, I’m barely able to turn my cart without knocking out an endcap. I approach a sample station to see what the guy was cooking up. Olives? Yuck!

“You like olives?” he says through 5 teeth (2 of them gold).

And I said, “No, sorry.”
He replied, “You turned this way like you liked olives.”

At this point I’m wondering why this interrogation is even happening.

I throw all my weight to the left to get the cart going again and say, “Yeah, oops.”

He continues, “How tall are you?”
Me, “5’9”
He gives me the once-over and says “You got some good height on you”
Me, backing away, “… thanks.”

Ok, that was awkward. I could totally feel him watching me walk away. Is this what my membership fees pay for?

Then I went to check out. And this is the best part because you have to be on your toes. Have your membership card out, unload your own cart – no, not the heavy stuff, leave that there – so then you’re returning the heavy stuff from the conveyor belt back to your cart, while the cashier is scanning away smiling as if it’s painful. She’s trying to sell me on the membership upgrade (unsold by the way.)

I slide my card in the machine. One time. Two times. Three times to cancel for credit.

I reload my own cart and slowly head to door to wait in line for a receipt-verify. I’m surprised there’s not a metal detector or a full-body pat down. Wait, is that my membership benefit?

Fighting the wind to get the heavy double-wide cart to my truck without losing something, I’m grumbling at this point. I unload one item at a time (because you only get boxes if you go and get your own, or bring your own). About 10 minutes in, I notice a ginge teen boy across the aisle watching me unload my groceries. I finish and take the cart to him (with the wasted flyers). Thanks for helping me unload my groceries, ginge! No benefit there.

I know it’s beginning to seem like a long, judgmental visit, but I did warn you.

Then, I decided to get gas. What’s this? Wrong way? There’s one way to enter and there’s a guy standing out there watching to make sure the rules are followed. Seriously. He’s just standing out there.

See?

So, I pull in. Ran my card, hit cancel for credit, then, wait for it.

Wait for it.
Wait.
For.
It.

5 cents off per gallon! There it is! There’s my benefit. I saved $1 on gas this year.

I may rethink this whole membership thing.

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