Every young JMIT knows that she’ll come of age some day. Yes, some day she’ll become a woman. It may happen after she’s Bat Mitzvah’ed or after she has been deflowered but some day she’ll grow up to have her own Costco membership.
Until this JMIT becomes a woman, a Costco membership will be the only thing on her holiday wish list (excluding Starbucks stocking stuffers, of course!)
The worldwide economy may be tanking but (many) JMITs around the globe hardly have to worry about paying off credit card debt or student loans (thank you, Daddy! or, thank you, doctor-lawyer-dentist Husband!). Likewise, they hardly need a holiday to “wish for” the newest Tory Burch shoes that are 40% off at Neiman’s. (Seriously, like they don’t already have at least two colors of the rainbow!)
Almost like a Cliff’s notes version of Passover, JMITs tend to use the holiday season to contemplate one simple question.
Don’t know what it is? I’ll give you a hint. The question is not: “Why is it that on all other days we can easily slip into our (awesome-yet-secret) parking spot at the mall but on the days during the ‘holiday season’ even our parking spots are no longer sacred?” While this question may run through a JMIT’s mind, a JMIT’s true struggle during this Commercialized-Christmas-Season is much larger than one parking spot.
When everyday is like your birthday, what’s going to make this season different from all other seasons?
You see, the distinguishing factor can’t be the fanciful shopping sprees, the botox, and the facials. Nope. This is the time when a JMIT gets practical. Who knows what causes a JMITs practical thinking during the holidays? Maybe it’s the Jewish guilt that has been building up all of those months. Based on the Country’s obsession with Christmas Cheer, maybe JMITs simply don’t want to feel left out. Either way, JMITs realize that ’tis the season to care more about giving than receiving – they’re not totally selfish. They know that they should buy a present for the poor man who pumps their super unleaded gas, the housekeeper, the pet butler (the guy who picks up the dog poop), the painters, the landscapers, the secretaries, and other plebians.
What better way to get all of the knick-knacks and paddywhacks and cute package of dog bones for the pet butler than to shop at Costco.
Uncle Sam’s eyes are bulging with dollar signs just thinking about her
Plus, no need to sober the moment with thoughts of what this card will mean for the future. Who cares if her quarterly? monthly? weekly? Costco bill equals the GDP of Somalia ($600), perhaps the Democratic Republic of the Congo ($700), or Afghanistan ($800)! I mean, seriously, she’s packing enough rolls of toilet paper, Q-tip boxes, gallons of Listerine, and fluffy white towels in her extra linen closet to clothe those nations as well!
And, it’s not like she’s paying the bill anyway.