I am a big fan of Costco. I love the place. The prices, the quality, the volume, the variety, how if you don't snatch something up one day, it could be gone forever, just like getting supplies in the Soviet Union was (as my pal, Mike, used to put it). There are food and goods demonstrators and samples galore. Less expensive hearing aids and glasses, great photo processing, ink cartridge refills, and a dazzling array of vitamins await your perusal. Lower-priced gas awaits pumping. It is bounty for the cost of membership.
For me the best show in town happens when the rotisserie chickens are ready to be put on the shelves. You can tell because someone starts rushing around the ovens, back and forth, looking at timers, and touching keypads. Then they go over to the big metal table in front, just to the left of the heated shelves, and they start laying out the bottom portion of the containers. Black, oblongish containers. Twenty-four are put on the table, laid down quickly and with purpose. Giant, heat-resistant rubber gloves are donned. The chickens are stopped from spinning and a giant meat thermometer is insert in six random birds. Satisfied, the gloved-one removes one giant skewer of whole chickens at a time, each bearing four cooked birds. The person turns and walks quickly to the table. A bird is slid off the giant skewer and into a container; then another into the next and so on into the next and the next. The giant skewer is loudly discarded to the side for washing. The next skewer is removed and the birds quick served up. Again and again the gloved-one puts bird in box, the heat of the birds clearly making the air hot. And then the birds have all been put in boxes. Gloves are removed and lids for the boxes are produced from a nearby shelf. Quickly they're distributed, dealt onto each box loosely. When all 24 are in place, the employee seals up each box. Finally a sticker gun is produced, dials are twisted and a time-stamp sticker is placed on each box. When that's over, the containers are put in the heated display for people to choose and take home to feast upon. The show's over, ladies and gentlemen, nothing to see, move along.
More than once, I've applauded at the end of the show. The person didn't know it was a show but was pleased by my obvious joy. More than once, I've been given my choice of bird. "Well you patiently waited so you can have your choice." I usually point to one with a big breast that's pushing up on the container lid. I take my bird and put it in a plastic meat-department bag and move on.
I mostly don't care what bird I get. I am just one person and can only eat so much chicken a day. I just like this particular members-only show. There are shows like this everywhere -- the Starbucks lady who places a lid on your coffee in a particular way, the way the dairy guy at Jewel rips open the carton holding your favorite yogurt, your landlady's cat keeping her company while she rakes the leaves. Think about these shows you love and what they mean to you. Sometimes that one little private show makes an unbearable day better.