I’m a pretty big fan of Costco myself. I used to hate going to Costco because it’s full of elderly people mindlessly walking up and down the aisles like a bunch of zombies, in search of their next incredible deal or a free sample. Then I discovered that if you show up at Costco in the evening, like 30-45 minutes before the store closes, all of those old people hogging up the aisles are at the All You Can Eat buffet (the early bird special ended hours ago), and you’re able to get in and out of Costco, completing all of your shopping in under 30 minutes.
I’m big on keeping my fridge stocked full of Zephyrhills Water bottles at all times (it’s a Florida thing), and I really like loading up on Jamaican Beef Patties because that’s my go-to drunk snack these days. However, my love of Costco’s got NOTHING on this high schooler who managed to get into 5 Ivy League schools (Yale, Columbia, University of Pennsylvania, Dartmouth, and Cornell) as well as Stanford all by writing the world’s most badass essay about her love of Costco.
According to AJC.com 18-year-old Brittany Stinson from Concord High School in Delaware was asked to write an essay on:
Prompt: Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
Here is the full essay that got her into Stanford, Yale, Columbia, University of Pennsylvania, Dartmouth, and Cornell (via AJC.com):
“Managing to break free from my mother’s grasp, I charged. With arms flailing and chubby legs fluttering beneath me, I was the ferocious two year old rampaging through Costco on a Saturday morning. My mother’s eyes widened in horror as I jettisoned my churro; the cinnamonsugar rocket gracefully sliced its way through the air while I continued my spree. I sprinted through the aisles, looking up in awe at the massive bulk products that towered over me. Overcome with wonder, I wanted to touch and taste, to stick my head into industrialsized freezers, to explore every crevice. I was a conquistador, but rather than searching the land for El Dorado, I scoured aisles for free samples. Before inevitably being whisked away into a shopping cart, I scaled a mountain of plush toys and surveyed the expanse that lay before me: the kingdom of Costco.
“Notorious for its oversized portions and dollarfifty hot dog combo, Costco is the apex of consumerism. From the days spent being toted around in a shopping cart to when I was finally tall enough to reach lofty sample trays, Costco has endured a steady presence throughout my life. As a veteran Costco shopper, I navigate the aisles of foodstuffs, thrusting the majority of my weight upon a generously filled shopping cart whose enormity juxtaposes my small frame. Over time, I’ve developed a habit of observing fellow patrons tote their carts piled with frozen burritos, cheese puffs, tubs of ice cream, and weightloss supplements. Perusing the aisles gave me time to ponder. Who needs three pounds of sour cream? Was cultured yogurt any more wellmannered than its uncultured counterpart? Costco gave birth to my unfettered curiosity.
“While enjoying an obligatory hot dog, I did not find myself thinking about the ‘all beef’ goodness that Costco boasted. I instead considered finitudes and infinitudes, unimagined uses for tubs of sour cream, the projectile motion of said tub when launched from an eighty foot shelf or maybe when pushed from a speedy cart by a scrawny seventeen year old. I contemplated the philosophical: If there exists a thirtythree ounce jar of Nutella, do we really have free will? I experienced a harsh physics lesson while observing a shopper who had no evident familiarity of inertia’s workings. With a cart filled to overflowing, she made her way towards the sloped exit, continuing to push and push while steadily losing control until the cart escaped her and went crashing into a concrete column, 52” plasma screen TV and all. Purchasing the yuletide hickory smoked ham inevitably led to a conversation between my father and me about Andrew Jackson’s controversiality. There was no questioning Old Hickory’s dedication; he was steadfast in his beliefs and pursuits – qualities I am compelled to admire, yet his morals were crooked. We both found the ham to be more likeable–and tender.
“I adopted my exploratory skills, fine tuned by Costco, towards my intellectual endeavors. Just as I sampled buffalochicken dip or chocolate truffles, I probed the realms of history, dance and biology, all in pursuit of the ideal cart–one overflowing with theoretical situations and notions both silly and serious. I sampled calculus, crosscountry running, scientific research, all of which are now household favorites. With cart in hand, I do what scares me; I absorb the warehouse that is the world. Whether it be through attempting aerial yoga, learning how to chart blackbody radiation using astronomical software, or dancing in front of hundreds of people, I am compelled to try any activity that interests me in the slightest.
“My intense desire to know, to explore beyond the bounds of rational thought; this is what defines me. Costco fuels my insatiability and cultivates curiosity within me at a cellular level. Encoded to immerse myself in the unknown, I find it difficult to complacently accept the ‘what’; I want to hunt for the ‘whys’ and dissect the ‘hows.’ In essence, I subsist on discovery.”
Probably the only thing I’ve ever cared about as much as this girl loves Costco is fishing, and I’m not sure I’d ever be able to wax poetic on her level when talking about waking up at the break of dawn to stalk tarpon, chasing the Silver King up the Gulf Coast of Florida and back on down to Puerto Rico.
Her essay wowed college admissions officers all across the nation, and it ultimately led to this:
College is overrated though, right?
Yale University image courtesy of Shutterstock.com