Here’s What Costco Was Originally Called—And It’s Not for the Reason You Think
June 15, 2025
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Okay, so—this is kind of embarrassing—but for years, I thought Costco just… existed. Like it just emerged, fully formed, sometime in the ‘90s, warehouse shelves stacked to the ceiling, free samples luring us in like fish to bait. But no. Turns out Costco had this whole other identity (and its original name) before it was even Costco. And the name? It was not what you’d expect.
Back in 1976—Seattle, of course—it started off as something called Price Club. Which… I mean, sure, sounds like a place where you’d find $3 off a sack of rice and maybe some loose lawn furniture. Two guys, James Sinegal and Jeffrey Brotman, launched the first store. I don’t know what the vibe was like in the ‘70s, but apparently, their idea was basically: sell stuff in big quantities, keep it cheap, make it feel exclusive-ish without actually being exclusive. It wasn’t fancy, but that was the point.
So yeah, Price Club. Real literal. They wanted the word “price” front and center, I guess, to hammer home the whole “low cost” thing. And the “club” part? That was just branding fluff to make you feel like you’d joined some secret society of savings. Not a cult, exactly, but… close? You had to be a member, so that made people feel special, even if they were just bulk-buying peanut butter and printer ink.
The weird thing is, even though that name feels pretty forgettable now, it actually worked. Like, it took off. People loved it. Or at least, people with small businesses did. That was the original crowd—restaurant folks, office managers, those kinds of people who’d rather buy a truckload of napkins once a month than deal with the grocery store every week.
When Price Club Became… Something Else
Fast forward to 1983, and this other warehouse store pops up called Costco. Same general model: membership, bulk everything, low prices, high shelves. But this one? It wasn’t the same company. Not yet, anyway. Costco was like… a parallel evolution. A little more polished, a little more focused on broader appeal—not just small biz owners but regular folks, too.
Then, in 1993, they merge. Or technically, Price Club merges into Costco. They called the new thing “PriceCostco” for a hot second, which, I mean… oof. That sounds like a placeholder name someone forgot to delete. But eventually, they ditched the Frankenstein name and just leaned into Costco. Cleaner. Easier to say. Less like a pricing algorithm.
And supposedly, “Costco” came from mashing up “cost” and “company.” Which… fine. Feels kind of generic, but it stuck. It sounds big and dependable, which, I guess, is the vibe they were going for.
Now there are hundreds—wait, no, over 750 Costco locations worldwide. Which is wild. Especially considering the first one was basically a converted airplane hangar. Seriously. The OG store was this massive empty shell in San Diego (not Seattle—that part confused me for a bit), and they just threw up some shelves and started stacking giant tubs of mayonnaise. The American dream.
Some Random Stuff I Didn’t Know Until I Fell Into a Costco Rabbit Hole
- That $1.50 hot dog combo? Been around since 1985. And it hasn’t changed in price. Not once. There’s apparently a story where the CEO was like, “We’re losing money on hot dogs,” and the co-founder basically told him, “Then make a cheaper hot dog. But don’t raise the price.” Iconic.
- The return policy? Almost too generous. You can return pretty much anything anytime, and people do. I’ve seen someone return an empty bottle of vitamins. No shame. Just vibes.
- There’s this thing called the “Costco perimeter rule,” which sounds like a heist plan, but actually it just means: the best deals are usually around the outer ring of the store—produce, meat, dairy. The middle aisles are more chaotic (and where you buy a kayak you’ll never use).
Shopping at Costco Without Completely Losing Your Mind
If you’ve ever gone into Costco “just to get paper towels” and walked out with a new office chair and 64 frozen burritos, then you already know—there are… tactics.
A few that sort of help:
- Stick to the edges. Like I said, the perimeter’s where the fresh stuff is. You’ll waste less and it’s usually a better deal than the massive pantry hauls.
- Only bulk what you’ll actually use. This sounds obvious, but you forget how long peanut oil lasts. A gallon seems fine… until it’s sitting in your cabinet a year later.
- Use the app. It’s not the flashiest app, but it’s surprisingly useful. You can check prices, spot limited-time stuff, even order online if you’re over the crowds (which I usually am by hour two).
Anyway, all this to say—Costco didn’t just show up out of nowhere. It grew out of this really scrappy, specific idea: get people the stuff they need, in bulk, without markups, and make them feel like they’re part of something a little bit… secret. That idea’s still there. Buried under flat-screen TVs and pallets of granola bars, sure, but it’s there.