Costco built its reputation on cheap hot dogs and bulk paper towels, but the warehouse club is quietly tightening the rules on who gets to shop there.
In recent months, the retailer has been testing membership card scanners at store entrances, a move that sounds minor until you realize how many people have been skating by on someone else's card.
The scanners, already rolled out at a number of locations, require shoppers to swipe their membership card and confirm their face matches the photo on file.
Borrowing your sister's card for a milk-and-eggs run is now a gamble, and Costco has said it plans to expand the program.
This matters because Costco's entire business model runs on membership fees, not merchandise markup.
The company makes most of its profit from the $65 Gold Star or $130 Executive annual fees, which is why it guards them so aggressively.
Every shared card is a fee it never collected.
Costco fans love to brag about the $1.50 hot dog and the $4.99 rotisserie chicken, and those prices have held for years.
But the warehouse club is not immune to the same inflation squeezing everyone else.
Egg prices have swung wildly, olive oil costs have jumped, and some longtime staples have crept up in price or shrunk slightly in size.
The honest truth is that Costco deals are real but selective.
Buying a 40-pack of toilet paper at a low per-unit price only saves money if you actually use 40 rolls before they turn into garage clutter.
The same goes for giant tubs of snacks, industrial-size condiments, and that 5-pound bag of almonds you swore you'd finish.
There is also the membership math nobody wants to do.
If you shop twice a month and spend $200 each trip, your $65 fee is a rounding error.
If you go four times a year, you are essentially paying a cover charge to buy things you could get at Walmart without a card.
It costs $130 but pays back 2% on most purchases, up to $1,250 a year.
Costco says the average Executive member earns back more than the upgrade cost, but that average includes families spending thousands monthly.
A single person spending $3,000 a year gets $60 back, which does not cover the extra $65.
The scanners and the fee structure are really the same story: Costco is protecting a moat.
It wants loyal, high-spending members and is willing to make casual shoppers uncomfortable to get them.
For American households already stretched by grocery bills, the practical takeaway is to track what you actually buy at Costco for three months.
Compare those per-unit prices against your regular supermarket, not against your imagination.
If the numbers work, the card is a bargain.
If they don't, you are just paying for the privilege of walking past a food court.
Costco is not a charity, and its deals are engineered to keep you coming back and spending more than you planned.
Final Thoughts
The membership fee is the product; the cheap chicken is the bait.