"I must misunderstand.  Are you suggesting that there is a fee in order to shop? I must pay a fee to the store in order to spend my money in it?  Doesn’t that seem absurd?"

"There is a membership fee, ma’am."

"Again, I must be misunderstanding.   It makes no sense that I should be charged for the privilege of you taking my money. Is there something magical about the goods that are for sale?  Is there also a secret handshake?  Lodge meetings where we wear funny hats?"

"Ma’am, if you want to shop here, you must become a member.  To become a member, you must pay a membership fee."

"I want to speak to a manager."

"Please stand to the side, while I page one."

Bette took her position off to the side of the clerk’s window.  As each second passed, her indignation grew.  When the manager arrived, he explained the same requirements that the clerk had described.  An incredulous Bette, after making her point once again that the requirements were absurd and illogical, stormed out of the store and into the parking lot and towards her distant car.

Halfway to her car, her feet and ankles aching from her forceful stomps, she remembered the purpose of her visit.  There was no other unobtrusive source for the quantity of meat needed by the demanding carnivores that filled her house.  She stood still and took at least a dozen deep breaths before she turned around and headed back to the store.  She grabbed another wagon and sheepishly got on the line for the clerk. 

Membership card in hand, Bette entered the sacred portals and followed the signs to the meat department.  The display was three times longer than any she had ever seen, such that would make a vegan tremble and possibly pass out.  She headed towards the roasts and filled the cart halfway up its sides.  Bette then headed to the legs of lamb and filled the cart another third up its sides.  Her final stop was the display of turkeys.  She mounded those on the top until they perched above the wagon’s top edges.  Pleased with herself, Bette headed towards the checkout counters.  However, the siren call of the side aisles beckoned.  The displays at the ends of the aisles made Bette awestruck.  Cans that seemed to have been created for goliaths were everywhere.  Amazed, she could not resist and began to wheel the very heavy wagon down the side aisles, having for a while for forgotten what was supposed to have been the sole purpose for the trip.  She felt morally righteous as she passed gigantic cans of coffee, boxes with dozens of Pop Tarts, mayonnaise jars large enough that a fist could fit through their mouths, ketchup bottles so heavy that they could substitute for weights in advanced workout routines.  In the back of her mind, of course, she realized that her moral superiority was misplaced since she would never have bought such items even in their more traditional sizes.  However, by the time she had reached the checkout counters, a gallon sized jar of sun dried tomatoes, accompanied by a quart sized jar of cocktail onions, a bag of 30 Key Limes that were labeled organic, teetered on top of the turkeys in the shopping cart. As she waited on line, she added a package of 100 ball point pens, thinking that you can never have too many pens,  and  a box with 50 toothbrushes (with a similar justification) and a set of extra extra long jumper cables, “just in case.”