In my 20s I experienced Dad Nirvana:
Unlimited budget Costco runs on someone else’s dime.
$10,000+ trips. Assistants. 5 Flat Beds. All true.
Let me tell you about the secret world of luxury Costco:
Way back in the day I was a Production Assistant for The Man Show on Comedy Central.
The PA is the bottom of the Hollywood totem pole. It sucks.
4 hours in LA traffic running a top secret script somewhere… Jamming 18 people’s lunch into your front seat.
Coffee runs…
85% of what you do as a PA is bullshit… It’s like being a professional pledge.
Somehow, I got stuck with stocking the kitchen early on. Initially, I thought it was going to be the worst assignment…
The kitchen was a disaster and we fed like 90 people daily…
I pictured hours on end at the grocery store. Every day. Until a veteran PA said the magic words:
“Finkel, here’s the production company Costco card.”
Me: “Oh. Um. What’s the budget?”
“Whatever. Just keep everyone happy.”
Me: “Whaaaaaat!!!!”…
Like most of you, I grew up going to Costco.
The hot dog. The chicken bakes. All of it. 90% of the cool stuff I’d ask my parents for they’d say “no” to…
But now I had an unlimited budget??
Then the guy said, “Also, take the van. It’s a lot.”
And I had a van? Duuuuuude!
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Picture your average dad Costco run for the kids…
Goldfish. Paper Towels. Fruit snacks. Frozen whatevers…
This was the complete and total opposite.
This was gluttony and glory and gallons of Gulden’s mustard.
I’d roll up and assemble like the dudes in Predator…
I’d get a pallet (carts are for wimps) and I’d get two assistants with their own pallets…
I’d taste a sample of the new Chicken Pot Pie from some company. I’d like it. I’d buy 11 boxes. I’d buy a stack of Red Bull & Gatorade & Root Beer & Ginger Beer & Birch Beer…
…and Coke and Diet Coke and Vitamin Water and Sprite and then more Gatorade. I’d roll down the aisle with the cereal and buy one box – OF EVERYTHING.
I’d buy bins of bagel bites & burritos & 3 square feet of hot pockets. I’d buy enough oatmeal bags to feed actual horses.
I’d grab giant boxes filled with endless bags of Doritos and Tostitos and Cheetos and Cheese Puffs and four huge tubs of Animal Crackers and then a tub of those peanut butter-filled pretzels for good measure and a 2lb box of peanuts and a pound of peanut M&Ms.
“Yes” to ten pounds of lunch meat and 800 slices of Kraft Singles and eighteen loaves of bread.
“Yes” to the boxes of Twix and Twizzlers and Snickers that are usually reserved for snack stands at Little League games.
“Yes” to cases of gum and blow pops and ring pops…
By the end I was like a roving 7-11, a caravan of candy and crackers and crap winding down the aisles with a giant smile on my face and a half-eaten chicken bake in my right hand.
I’d be there for 3 hours. I’d have 2 helpers load the van. My receipt was six feet long.
Full Kitchen. Happy Staff. Happy Boss.
That was my motto.
Most trips would cost $6-$8k easy. If we had a staff BBQ I’d top $10k no problem.
Luxury Costco. That was livin’, dads.
Now go grab yourself a $1.50 dog and get after it.
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Jon Finkel
Editor-in-Chief, Midlife Male
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