Club Goods – Bauhausfrau
July 8, 2026
All of God’s people are assembled in the Costco prospective membership line. They’re sweaty. The Big Ass Fans were a thoughtful provision but no match for the mass of flesh packing into the signup-flow lanes.
She narrows her eyes as a kindergartener starts to shriek. The kid’s shirt shows Sonic with one finger up in the air before boy, hedgehog, and shriek disappear into his mother’s dark robes.
“I don’t understand why people bring children to things like this.” Theirs were at home with a caretaker. “Can you imagine how hot she must be in that getup?”
She said it loudly enough to be heard, though she suspected it wouldn’t be understood by the man in front of them, who could have been the Sonic-shrieker’s father.
Her own husband had been looking elsewhere. “It looks like there’s three lines. They upsell us on the membership here, then they upsell us on the credit cards there.”
“It looks like pictures, too.”
“But what’s that line for, then?” It was to the left of the membership-to-credit card sales funnel and consisted of better dressed aspiring Costco customers and a Bigger Ass Fan.
“Those are our pre-signups, sir!”
PEGGY was chipper. A glossy button clipped to her nametag was full of tiny puzzle pieces spelling out CUSTOMER CARE AMBASSADOR. Sweating Kirkland Signature water bottles were gathered to her ample bosom.
“Would y’all like some water?”
They were thirsty, but would wait for the unspoiled cache in the Yeti Cooler knockoff at the membership upsell center. The taciturn man in front of them had not yet spoken English, but he understood the universal language of offering. Privately and immediately, she started to call him Aladdin.
“No, thanks.” He waited for their neighbor to fade away, cooled bounty in hand. “Listen, I tried to sign up just now. Three times. Each time the form kicked me to the signup page after submitting the payment.”
“Oh, we’ve had lots of folks with that problem, sir! Something about the new software system. But I’m certain you haven’t been charged. We’ve got our Care Ambassadors working around the clock to get you on board. Just relax and enjoy our complimentary promotions. Can I interest you in a goody bag?”
Aladdin angled an ear. Peggy couldn’t see him or his jeans with rhinestone pockets but the slight chemical sting that betrayed a counterfeit cologne reached the line anyway.
“We’re good.” She liked Peggy’s nature but had smelled enough Downy UNSTOPPABLES to turn her morning’s injected peptides against her stomach. “Thank you, ma’am!”
“My pleasure!” Peggy bounced off to start her script anew. Her prepackaged humanity impressed them.
“It really is a Chick-fil-A experience.”
“Yeah, too bad we have to leave the car. The signup bug is just absurd.”
“And all the employees manning the idiot lines. They could be tablets.”
“They can’t all work here. Do you think they travel around like carnies?”
“Excuse me, ma’am, that dress is beautiful.”
AAAEEENK!
“Oh, uh, thank you.”
She normally had more gracious ways of accepting compliments but she could have sworn she heard a fire alarm. Her new friend was a Boomer belle with a hairstyle that defied the swamp-steeped air right behind them in the chumpline. Her shirt said something glittery about Israel.
“Go Gators!”
The dress was bright blue and orange. She bought it because it was flattering and on sale, but it conscripted her into a regional semiotic order.
“One, two, three-four-five. Them the Gators don’t take no jive!”
He shot her a look. She needed to lay off the gummies. The Boomers didn’t register the rude interneticism. They smelled like margaritas and only wanted hope for the future and some temporary trauma-bonded friends.
“Quite an operation here, isn’t it?” Her new friend’s husband had only a small gut that was tastefully shrouded in a mint Performance Fishing Gear shirt bearing the stitched war shield of the Poarch Creek Indians, all crowned by a Bama bucket hat. A house divided.
“It really is something. Truthfully, this could all be done online. You would just need one desk to print the cards.”
“Plenty of room for improvement.”
It was good to find, in such a place, a man to call brother. Despite the generational gap, both shared the strong conviction that inefficiency was a form of theft.
AEENK! AEENK!
“Am I the only one who’s hearing this?” She often thought she was losing it.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Please keep your receipts in hand before you approach the card center! This will help us serve you better!” They couldn’t see Peggy but her signature cheer was apparent over the sound system.
An ancient woman in Zoomer jeans and bold makeup circulated about. She was pitied but given a suspicious berth. Her Coke bottle sunglasses entered the record.
“I am having a blast. What a visual feast. Everyone is dripping with anticipation.”
“Alright, cool it.”
The nearest midsize Big Ass Fan had acquired, by some trick of crowd and heat, a tiny pair of cat ears. It was directly to their right as they approached the front of the initial membership screening line. Only Aladdin remained before them, although Granny Glasses was now aggressively hovering.
He clocked the twin dangers: line-cutters and microdose-induced racial incidents. Luckily, the fan was drowning out his wife’s revelry.
The line hadn’t exactly been brisk but it wasn’t a slog either. It was punctuated. He had it all figured out. Old people lingered. They were lonely and abundant in time, at least in the micro sense. Young people were children-dependent. Blacks were mixed: some strictly business, some yukking it up with an also-black Care Ambassador. She was envious. Immigrants took forever, except for Aladdin, who was determined and already done with his first official Care Ambassador.
“You’re kidding me! No she did not!”
If you were new here you might not have gathered that I’MSPECIAL was her name. Combined with the puzzle imagery, it lent an air of autism awareness. The Black Boomers at her station were apparently done being upsold but their butts lingered in a Southern goodbye of half standing over the Kirkland Signature basic indoor/outdoor chair. They were howling. She wished she was one of them.
Her hair fanned in the synthetic gusts. “How do you think you pronounce that name?”
“I’m sure she’ll tell us.” Why the hell couldn’t she just be normal about it.
“Sir, sir!”
JENNIFER had been right in front of them all along, invisible but still ebullient. Her huge smile looked genuine. She was right by the Big Ass Fan, after all.
“Welcome to Costco! We’re so excited that you’re coming on board. Can I offer you some water?”
It was phrased like a question but she handed it to them regardless.
“So what we have here today are basically two tiers, one is—”
“Oh, we’ll be going with the Imperial Membership.”
Jennifer clocked them and switched to efficiency mode.
“Excellent! Well, what we need now is your basic information. Normally you would have filled this out in line, but—”
“Yeah, we tried signing up before we got here.”
“Technology, you know? Can you ever really rely on it?”
“No, I don’t suppose you can.” He knew the problem was the people running it, but in the interest of time he was on his best behavior.
“Excuse me!”
No one had remembered that Granny Glasses was hovering.
“Ma’am? The line begins back there.”
You couldn’t see her eyes, but Granny Glasses gave confusion.
“The receipt wouldn’t run.”
Not even Jennifer’s chirpy maneuvering could make her budge.
I’mspecial had just sent off her last batch of new friends. The colleagues deliberated.
“Jen, I helped her.”
“Ma’am, you can go to the card line ahead.”
“I don’t know the numbers. I have the paper.”
“She didn’t know her bank PIN. We got to the very end of the flow and had to stop.”
“She’s full of it.” The Big Ass Fan gave him just enough privacy.
“She’s really old.” She saw herself one day.
“Yeah, and she knows it.”
“Wanda,” Peggy was addressing I’mspecial, “I’ve got this.”
Peggy could have been a saint.
“Right this way ma’am, I’ll get you taken care of right over here.”
Performance Fishing Gear snorted.
“Oh, bless you!”
“Alright, where were we?” They were still scribbling their forms. “Yes, the Imperial Package. You’ll bring the carbon copy to the card line where they will make you official. And then you should have some time to shop!” Closing was in half an hour.
“Fantastic.”
Their onboarding systems may have been down, but the machinery to better charge their customers was always fast. “It’s been a pleasure!”
“Truly!” She admired Jennifer’s positive spirit. Mr. and Mrs. Performance Fishing Gear quickly filled their open seats.
So the tide rolled them up to the next line. There was a Smaller Ass Fan here, but it was also closest to the generously air-conditioned warehouse-doored mouth of the entrance.
“Moloch beats his wings from the walk-in produce freezer.”
“Uh, sure.” Now that he had sized up each billed-but-unofficial club member in front of them, he turned to Care Ambassador calculus.
You might think you would want WILL, who was young and white. Not so. This golden retriever of a man had already fallen from a life arranged to be forever SEC in spirit. Now he had to work for his kibble, and was hunting a promotion. This meant a charming but drawn out sell on the Costco 5% Cashback Premium Mastercard.
The young couple interfacing with Will had a toddler in their lap and seemed, somehow, to be enjoying his pecuniary evangelizing. Aladdin was back and had been looking at them for a beat too long.
The resident Boomer male entered Neighborhood Watch mode from three slots back.
“Looks like one of those guys in that stabbing in Texas.” Performance Fishing Gear was sandwiching Black Boomer, who gave the kind of laugh you give when you know you shouldn’t.
“Leonard! Behave!” Performance Fishing Wife was genteel. If the target noticed, he didn’t look up from the device he was holding.
TERRENCE would serve them better. He was young and black and full of business. He didn’t break a sweat. He beckoned the young couple to his final gate.
“How’s it going, staying cool?”
“Very cool. Are you going to take our pictures or is that down too?”
Terrence chuckled. “You did not come to play! Well sir, there are about ten minutes left for shopping so I’ll go ahead and tell you about our exciting financing offers while we get you official. Our photos are working just fine.” Costco’s newest Imperial Member wondered what would happen if they couldn’t get the cards before closing. Bulk-buy limbo.
“Oh, we’re going to sign up for the card at home. We just need the IDs.”
“You got it, chief.” Tap tap tap.
A cloud of chemicals rushed behind her. Someone was done and in a hurry.
AEENK AEENK AEENK. AEENK AEENK AEENK.
“There’s our fire alarm again!” So she hadn’t been hearing things. Terrence kept tapping on his tablet, maybe hearing something in his Bluetooth earpiece: “Nothing to worry about.”
The crowd was not worried. They didn’t seem to notice. Peggy didn’t even need to soothe them through the mounted Kirkland Signature stereo sound system. It was a heated but docile flock.
“Has that been going on all day?”
“Intermittently. Alright, say cheese!” It was funny to hear in his deep baritone.
The tablet was in her face. Crap, what did her hair look like? She beamed.
“Miss? This is the best photo I’ve seen all day.” Nobody stiffened at such comments anymore.
AEENK AEENK AEENK.
She beamed even more.
“You’re a lucky man. Say cheese!”
He maintained his same expression.
“Well, that will do.” He started to get up.
AEENK AEENK AEENK.
“Before you go, about that card-at-home plan…” He sat back down. “There are some exciting promotions to game. If you sign up online and then go shopping on our Preferred Pickup Days, you’ll be eligible for one of several exclusive incentives. We have thick beach towels, bucket hats—”
“Bucket hats! I know just the guy.” He wondered how much time her joke would cost them.
AEENK AEENK AEENK.
“So you want a bucket hat. Well let me look up the dates. Let’s see…”
“That won’t be necessary. Thank you so much, Sterrence.” He got up.
“His name is Terrence.” She took pride in noting employee names.
AEENK AEENK AEENK.
“Sir! Your cards!”
“Thank you.” Sharing a positive experience with a black person was its own reward. She grabbed the cards. Her picture did look great.
“Part of his sales pitch.”
AEENK AEENK AEENK.
“Well, in this case, it’s true.”
She received no human verification from the Costco Associate manning the automatic entrance portal, only a gesture toward the slot in which to shove it.
“We’re closing soon, you know.”
The malfunctioning fire alarm was a device that rankled yet was kindly tolerated by all who remained here in the name of a last call opening day deal.
AEENK AEENK AEENK. A demented call to prayer. It cursed their trek past the shelves of overstuffed plushies, red light therapy masks, and Banana Republic offerings, while AT&T salesmen littered the winnowing funnels. The three-thousand-dollar executive sauna, marked down by $499, became a private bunker haunted by Granny Glasses. God allowed it all.
“We still have five minutes.”
AEENK AEENK AEENK.
“To Satan’s freezer. I want to see the strawberries.”
The walk-in cooler at the back of the warehouse was mostly depopulated.
“Here, organic. What do you think of the price?”
“Cheaper than Sam’s! So this was all worth it.”
She started to grab one before her eyes scanned the chiller. Rhinestones shined. Their fellow new Imperial Member was digging deep behind the ten gallon bags of blueberries obscuring the heat pump. The air smelled familiar, but wrong.
AEENK AEENK AEENK.
He hadn’t noticed. “How many do you want?”
“We need to leave.”
“What? Empty handed? I’m sure we can sneak in a self checkout.”
“We need to get out of Satan’s hell.”
“Doll, are you okay?” He used the voice.
AEENK AEENK AEENK.
She was already off. A proud fiddle leaf fig toppled in the frenzy. A fan blasted her face before Peggy appeared standing sentinel at the wide-mouthed exit with a smile and a glittery clipboard. Israel came to mind.
Outside, others answered. A herd of cat-eared adults surrounded their Willendorf mother on her scootypuff chariot. She clipped one. “Hey, fuck you, crazy bitch!”
“Dolly—wait!”
In a flash, she saw a white heat. They were already in their Japanese car. The chorus of sirens had the last word.