I remember seeing a spot on a news show in past years regarding the growing popularity of buyng in bulk. The focus was on the buying habits of those who frequented the warehouse stores like Costco or Sam’s Club. I remember chuckling to myself as I watched the customers pile the gallon-sized mayonnaise and ketchup jars, multipacks of frozen foods, and other oversized packages onto the conveyor belt at the checkout line, commenting to my wife how ridiculous the whole process was. The narrator agreed. According to the show, most people who go this route end up with one of two problems:

1. They end up throwing food because they can’t possibly eat it all.
2. They force themselves to eat it all and gain massive amounts of weight

I get some sense of satisfaction from watching people do this, knowing that I would never do the same myself. It’s the same sense of satisfaction I get from using a Mac. Or from driving a Prius. Some call it elitisim. I call it acceptance of my superiority. Or so I thought…

I discovered there were some people I respected who shopped at Costco who didn’t seem to fall into the common traps. Though I initially bristled at the thought of joining myself, I soon found myself in line for a membership. It would be a great way to save some money on non-perishable items like toilet paper, aluminum foil, or paper towels (never mind that I didn’t really consume these products at a particularly impressive rate). Soon I found more uses, but I’ve stayed on target, eschewing the 1 pound packages of smoked salmon for dried goods that can last for months. (Okay, in all fairness, I did buy the 1 pound of smoked salmon once…and yes, I had to throw some of it out).

More dangerous, however, has been my discovery that bulk goods are just a click of a button away. Fully aware of the convenient, albeit minor, health benefits of eating dark chocolate, I happened upon a 12-pack of a dark chocolate version of Toberone, complete with the requisite honey and almond nougat (maybe one of these days I’ll actually understand what “nougat” is). Inexpensive. Good for my health. Delicious. What more could I want?

Delivering it to the home seemed like a bad idea. My wife, already suspicious of my excesses, was sure to use this as evidence against me in the future, despite my confidence that I could rationalize the purchase. So I had it sent to work. I could have a piece or two each day in the office to give me a little boost. The 12-pack should last a long time. I clicked. 

Two days later (thanks to Amazon Prime’s free shipping), the goods arrived. I cleared out a privileged space in my desk drawer alongside some pens and a stapler and went back to work. 

I’ve never been one to hear voices per se, but there seemed to be an unknown force pulling me toward the drawer. Like a “spidey-sense,” but for chocolate. I opened the first package and tried to break off two pieces, but three ended up coming off. Close enough, I thought. It’s time for a morning snack, anyway. 

They seemed to disappear so quickly. I was still hungry, maybe even hungrier. A few more couldn’t hurt. 

The thing about this stuff is that it tricks you. The little triangles seem so small. They don’t fill you up right away. Soon, you end up eating the whole bar. Then, about 20 minutes or so later, the effects come over you like a tidal wave. You feel a little queazy. There is a distinct message from your brain saying, “stop whatever you’re doing…you’ve already done too much of it!” But it’s too late. The damage is done.

I realized the only solution was to get rid of this black magic. I tried parlaying some off on my office-mate, Carl. Usually, Carl will eagerly agree to consume anything I passed over the desk, but he happened to pick this month to start watching what he was eating a little more closely. I could get a few triangles a day rerouted to his workspace, but the rest remained close by. I felt my energy drained, as if it were kryptonite rather than chocolate. The only treatment for my fatigue, of course, was to give in to the impulse to bite into yet another bar.

After several weeks (fewer than I care to admit), I’m finally done with the stuff. Never again will I give in to such foolishness.

Unless, of course, it’s a really good deal on really good chocolate. 

This entry was posted on Monday, May 26th, 2008 at 7:26 am and is filed under food. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.