Cheryl Bradley, Costcovangelist (Part 1)

Our housemate is a Costcovangelist.

Costcovangelist: A person dedicated to the mission of sharing the good news of Costco.

He who finds a Costco membership finds a good thing indeed. And what’s not to love? Brand-name products in bulk, for ridiculously low prices—not to mention the cheap gas! And it’s all for the investment of $50 a year! Surely, the passing of a crisp $50 is worth all the Benjamins you’d be saving by shopping at Costco!

______________________________________________________

Our housemate, Cheryl, is a faithful cardholder and frequent shopper of the Costcovian Kingdom. She has taken every opportunity to educate me in the gospel of Costco. My baking powder, flour, baking soda, brown sugar, milk and all fruits and vegetables are all grossly overpriced, reports the Costcovangelist, who then eagerly throws open her cupboards to price jugs of cinnamon and vanilla extract under $10, a gallon of baking soda for less than $5, a potato sack of barley for $7ish…and so on and so forth.

Now, I’m not stranger to the wonders of Costco. When I was in my mom’s house, Costco was always the first stop for groceries. A full cart for $200 to feed a family of five was a darn good deal. But now that I’m building a family of my own, and we have a $200-per-month budget for food, I long for that Costco membership card to call my own. Especially toward the end of every month, when I pull open the refrigerator to find just eggs and foil-swaddled baked potatoes remaining.

______________________________________________________

Mind you, my husband and I are not lacking by any means. The past three months we’ve been married, we have never missed a meal. And every time things have gotten tight with food, I have prayed. The first time I prayed, we got a box of home-canned delights as a gift from one of our friends. The next time, I had $20 more on my card than I’d thought I had to spend. And the next time, we were blessed with a HUGE cardboard box full of organic vegetables!

We have never gone without—and I know we never will. But the frugal voice in my head paints fantasies of how much more effective our $200 food budget would be if we spent it at Costco. I keep telling myself, “Someday, someday, when we have an extra $50 for a membership startup…”
______________________________________________________

I was perfectly content to keep up the mantra of “someday.” But Cheryl is a Costcovangelist who does her job well. She knows our staples and how much they cost where we do our shopping, and then she scouts out the prices of our staples on her next trip to Costco.

She’ll leave sweet notes for me on the counter, with afterthoughts of, “Agave nectar is $6.50 at Costco!”

I know she’s not talking about our 12-oz squeeze bottle ($7 at Fred Meyer). She’s talking about a 30-something-oz JUG of our favorite sweetener for only 50 cents more than what we get.

______________________________________________________

I was perfectly content to stick to “someday.” But Cheryl keeps making me hungry, transforming my passive desire into an anxious, gotta-have-it, get-me-that-membership, burning desire for Costco.

This is practical evangelism. The model Cheryl demonstrates to inspire me towards a Costco membership would be just as effective if she were telling me about Jesus.

Advertisements

2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Cheryl Bradley
    Dec 15, 2011 @ 14:14:11

    I can’t wait to read part two!!

    Reply

  2. Trackback: Costcovangelism Part 2 « Grace Notes

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: