Let’s get one thing clear: I love Costco. But I need you to stop moving everything around, or at least help me find what I’m looking for. I love Costco like a second home, or maybe like a weird, sprawling timeshare that I pay $140 a year to access. They say you can’t put a price on happiness, but Costco’s tried pretty hard and done a pretty decent job of it. However… there’s this

The Great Costco Shuffle: Now Requiring More Senior Cardio

Back when I was younger, I barely noticed when Costco shuffled things around. But now—pushing a heavy cart through a maze of relocated items—finding the Maxwell House feels more like a workout than a game.

It’s not just me. The average Costco shopper spends about 37 minutes wandering the warehouse, longer than at Walmart or Target. All that aimless wandering adds up to about $100 per trip for most folks, though if you ask my bank account, it’s closer to $300–$500 for me (Investopedia, Business Insider, The Kitchn).

Why Does Costco Move Everything? (And Are They Just F%$king With Me?)

Here’s the thing: Costco doesn’t just move stuff around once in a blue moon. They move items every single day. Sometimes it’s just a few things, sometimes it’s a total overnight blitz. Staples can shift every couple of months, and seasonal or sale items hop around even more (Reader’s Digest, Reddit). There’s a reason for this: they want you to wander. The longer you spend looking for the peanut butter, the more likely you are to pick up a kayak, a 12-pack of Danishes, and a tub of Nutella the size of a car battery. Like, my $300- $500 payout per trip just isn’t enough for them. Greedy bas*&^%$.

It’s brilliant, really. If you do the math, with 120 million members worldwide and everyone spending an extra 10 minutes per trip, that’s millions of hours a month lost to the Great Costco Shuffle. If our time is worth even minimum wage, Costco owes the American public enough money to buy every rotisserie chicken in the country.

Old Dog, Old Tricks, Too Much Garlic

I used to go to Costco just for the $1.59 hot dog and soda. But now, as an “old dude” with a sensitive stomach, even the hot dog has too much garlic for me, and aging means the reward is gone. You can afford it—but your stomach disagrees.

The Silver Lining (and the Senior Discount That Doesn’t Exist)

Don’t get me wrong—I still love Costco. It’s a place of mystery. You go in for toothpaste and come out with a pressure washer and a kayak. Along the way, you discover new snacks you didn’t know you needed, and maybe make a friend or two in Aisle 312 while searching for the peanut butter (which, by the way, was moved next to the tires).

But here’s the kicker: there’s no senior discount. None. Nada. Not for the membership, not for the hot dog, not even for the privilege of playing hide-and-seek with your groceries (The Senior List, Ask Chapter). Costco does offer savings on things like hearing aids and Kirkland batteries, which is nice, but won’t help me find my Maxwell House any faster.

My Modest Proposal

If Costco insists on turning shopping into a seniors’ Olympic event, the least they could do is offer a senior discount on the membership to incentivize us to keep pushing our loaded carts in endless circles. Or maybe just a map. Or a trophy for Most Miles Walked in a Single Visit Without Finding the Mayo.

All I ask is a little mercy and more clarity from Costco on where things are. If I knew the layout or had help finding items like peanut butter or Maxwell House, shopping would be less frustrating. Give seniors a map, a $5 credit for walking a certain number of miles, or at least a clear way to ask for help. I just want practical support to save time and effort—recognize the challenge!

Final Plea

Costco, I love you. But please—just tell me where the damned peanut butter is, help us find what we need, and give seniors a clear way to get directions or recognition. That’s all I’m asking.