Costco — that bastion of case lot bargains and ill-fitting Kirkland stonewash denim dad jeans — has once again proven to be on the stingy side when it comes to allowing the sale of Remembrance Day poppies on its premises. According to the CBC, a veteran wielding his flower power at a Langley Costco had to cut his shift short after the retailer told him to pack it in. Apparently the store has a fixed schedule/tolerance for people selling Remembrance Day poppies, which, we might add, not only commemorate the sacrifices Canadian soldiers and peacekeepers have made over the years but also raise millions of dollars for the Royal Canadian Legion to fund veteran and Legion programs.
This isn’t even an anomaly in the esteemed annals of Costco customer service. Last year, a Costco in Abbotsford cut down the number of days veterans could sell their wares to four days from the customary two weeks prior to Remembrance Day. So to reiterate: Handing out free samples of microwavable mini-chimichangas and paper cups of Danon Probiotic Yogurt Drinks — totally fine. Handing out poppies to acknowledge the sacrifices of soldiers and raise money for veterans? Not so much.
Sadly, Costco isn’t the only retailer that’s taken a strange, optically bad approach to poppy pushers. Discount retail giant Target came under fire recently after it was reported that Canadian military veterans on the East Coast could sell poppies outside Target stores but only venture inside during inclement weather. Target has since clarified its stance and maintains veterans can sell poppies inside to their sleet-soaked heart’s content.
Still, it’s hard to understand why Remembrance Day poppies have become such a contentious issue for some retailers. It’s a couple of weeks a year — far less than the two-month onslaught of Christmas pageantry and promotion. And it’s not like the sight of veterans outside a store makes people spend less. If anything, veterans trigger a chemical reaction in baby boomers dating back to the post-war years that inherently make them want to buy more and display the kind of wealth and out-of-control consumerism previous generations could only imagine.
Then again, maybe today’s gluttony emporiums would rather not suggest to consumers — as they haul flats of Diet Coke, giant boxes of Pizza Pops, discounted copies of 50 Shades of Grey, Modern Family Blu-ray editions, 12 packs of Russell Athletic Men’s Performance Crew Socks, 70-inch flat screen TVs and gallon-size jars of mayonnaise on flatbeds out to their shiny SUVs — that this is what our veterans fought for.
