They call it retail. A simple exchange. But Costco isn’t interested in the simplicity of profit margins. It isn’t about squeezing every last kopeck from the consumer. No, it’s a game of volume, a relentless pursuit of scale. The markup on goods? A meager 11%. A pittance. They don’t need to make money on the goods themselves. They’ve found a more reliable source, a steady drip of revenue from the huddled masses who pay for the privilege of entering the warehouse. Sixty-five dollars a year for the basic membership, a hundred and thirty for the ‘executive’ option—a small price to pay, it seems, for access to perceived savings. It’s a clever arrangement, a subtle extraction of wealth, masked by the promise of a bargain. The CEO speaks of being the lowest price, a ‘leading mantra.’ But mantras require faith, and faith rarely translates directly to shareholder value.