Costco
Of the top schools, this girl was accepted to Yale, Columbia, UPenn, Dartmouth, Cornell, Stanford.
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 cinnamon sugar 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 industrial-sized 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 dollar-fifty 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 weight loss supplements. Perusing the aisles gave me time to ponder. Who needs three pounds of sour cream? Was cultured yogurt any more well-mannered 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 thirty three 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 buffalo chicken 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, cross country 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 black body 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.
What works?
Again here, we see an essay about something you wouldn’t expect in a college essay: Costco. It’s ordinary and boring, right? But…it works. Why?
From the beginning, we get this picture of her as an insatiable, energetic, and Heroic child. Heroic because she is charging into the Uncharted, unafraid and ready to explore. This is a powerful image and a clear identity. We learn who this girl is: an explorer, a sprinter (through life), an eager experience-seeker.
Small thing: I love that she mentions her chubby legs. Most two year olds have chubby legs, so it feels very real. But it also humanizes this girl. Portraying yourself as human (not as some perfect, untouchable goddess or god) is really useful in college essays. She also portrays herself as “scrawny” later on when she grows up, which has the same effect.
Next she mentions consumerism, which is honest, but she doesn’t drone on at length lamenting the ills of consumerism, which is good. Mention things that are true; that’s fine. But, I would generally recommend that you avoid being a Negative Nelly about the environment, the government, capitalism, war, etc. There’s nothing to be gained; it’s all been said before. And it’s terribly boring to read.
In paragraph two, we find out that this girl is observant. We are first shown that she observes those around her. Then we’re shown that she thinks about the things she observes (we’ll come back to those two questions in a moment). And then she tells us that she’s super curious. In general, try to follow that order. Show first, then you can back it up by telling. This is great because it gives your reader time to come to their own conclusions (which they certainly will), and then you can reinforce their conclusions and “prove them right” in a sense. They feel all smart, and you get to make sure that, just in case they didn’t come to exactly the right conclusion, they now have the words you wanted in their heads.
So, those two questions: “Who needs three pounds of sour cream? Was cultured yogurt any more well-mannered than its uncultured counterpart?” The first one is just general, basic pondering. It’s certainly something that everyone who has ever shopped at Costco has thought. So, again, it feels very real and honest. And then the second question is a joke! So now we know that this girl has a sense of humor (which not all people have), and that’s great!
The third paragraph really dives deep into what this girl thinks about and HOW she thinks. The semi-chaos of it, the goofiness, the academic connections, and again the constant observation. She’s reinforcing everything she’s told us so far while adding even more. Specifically, we now know she’s academically inclined enough to think about physics and history on a random shopping trip. And we get a bit more humor at the end.
In the fourth paragraph, she tells us what she has already shown us in the third: that her ideal cart is “one overflowing with theoretical situations and notions both silly and serious.” She continues to show us her fearlessness and Heroism while now introducing more things from her resume. Notice that all those introductions are quite brief for this essay!
And then the end is a quick summation that drives things home.
One thing that’s good that she did NOT do is turn all of this into a “represents”-fest… If you’ve worked with me already, you know what I mean here. If not…know that I really don’t like when students write essays about how the mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving “represent” their hard work because mashed potatoes are hard to make, and the turkey “represents” their patience because it takes a lot time to cook. This girl didn’t use the word “represent”. She treated this like a strong, legitimate extended metaphor. If you want any type of comparison, do the extended metaphor. Don’t use the word “represent”!
What’s less good?
Not much. I think the end could use a bit of work here. It feels a tad rushed when compared to the rest of it. I would have recommended that she set a more clear purpose. But, she does stick with her narrative quite well.