There has only ever been one thing in my life that I was one hundred percent sure of, and that is Costco. The weekly endeavors with my father to the enormous warehouse have become a tradition. From the oversized food to skyscraper-esque aisles, I found endless opportunities to explore. I was the five year old who summited the staggering twenty-four box high, Mount Cheerio. I was the six year old who coasted through the massive aisles on the shopping cart in search of buried treasure. I was the seven year old who ventured into the Antarctic among the strawberries and carrots. Costco wasn’t just a place to shop, it was a place for me to explore.
As I outgrew the flatbed of the cart and became old enough to wander the vast emporium of industrial freezers and plastic wrapped cartons towering several feet high, I found myself on a new quest. I began to take the time to observe my fellow Costco goers carts filled to the brim with excess amounts of pretzels, Gatorade, and batteries. Even from a young age, I had always been curious as to why people ever needed to buy so much of one thing. Why would anyone ever need thirty six boxes of quinoa? Why is she buying three bottles of 180 piece vitamins? I barraded my father with questions as we navigated the aisles.
As I traveled between carts of free samples, I began to realize that Costco, which had served as such a place of comfort for my father and I on Sunday mornings, was suddenly so unfamiliar. I was no longer focused on the smoothie in my hand, but the unthinkable use of the 10 pack of maple syrup in aisle 24. Costco became a place for me to wonder and question issues much larger than my lack of a three pound box of jelly beans. My father and I found ourselves discussing the issue of obesity in America and diversity. Watching the women in the parking lot load up their Lexus’ with dark chocolate covered almonds and Sunchips, brought me to consider the political and economic nature of the world we live in. And just as I observed others putting mass amounts of food into their carts, I began to question my family and I’s role in supporting this mecca of commercialism. Costco allowed me to ponder and express my thoughts, whether it was through the enjoyment of Costco’s “all beef” hot dog or the sampling of new foods at the sample carts thoughtfully positioned around the store.
It was at Costco that I began to find my investigative skills that I use daily: at work, school, and in my social life. Just as I sampled Club crackers and tortilla soup, I sampled different areas of interest within my education. My introduction to AP and IB my freshman year further cultivated my interest in social sciences and all science courses. I began to realize that I wanted to be a person who made an impact and reach the most people. So I began to sample extracurriculars, friends, and electives in school. And just as I scooted through the aisles, carefully looking over the packages of food, I chose my classes, jobs, friends, and skills.
With my cart in hand, I began to take on something even bigger than the enormous warehouse: life. But Costco was only the beginning. It helped me to set up my basis of knowledge and exploration. It helped curb my insatiable and infinite curiosity. I want to seek and understand the deeper meanings of things and to help others. More importantly, I want to make an impact. Just as Costco satisfied my hunger for adventure, thought, and froyo for a dollar fifty, I believe college will further my interests and fine-tune these qualities I already possess.