The setting: The Blackstone-and-Herndon Costco warehouse store, land of half-liter bottles of mustard and enough paper towels to pave a white-Kirkland road from here to New York, on an average shopping day.
The find: a discount card for none other than Dusty Buns, the outstanding Fresno High-area bistro. You pay $39.99 for $50 worth of Dusty Buns goodness. I’d never seen this Costco option before and grabbed at it eagerly.
The checkout process: You pick up a big card from the display rack, tell the cashier how many discount cards you want, and then present your receipt to a manager working the redemption stand.
The reaction: The nice Costco man takes a look at the “Dusty Buns” gift cards as he hands them to me and asks, “Have you ever eaten there?” I tell him yes, and it’s very good. He replies: But you have to go way down there, right?”
My initial thought: The way he emphasizes the word, I first wonder: Does he mean that I have to go to Hell to eat Dusty Buns? But then I realize, no, he’s talking about geography. You have to drive down there, as in south of Shields Avenue, that exotic land of scary lawlessness. At first I want to say something snarky, but I decide instead on an evangelist approach. “You should check it out,” I say. “It’s actually a cute neighborhood.”
The takeaway: Perhaps I could organize tours of the Tower and other places looked upon quakingly by north Fresnans, and sell them at a discount at Costco.
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