So today was Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, which is the bane of your existence if you are just about anybody in America who isn’t CEO of a major retail chain. Being the lucky owner of a retail sales position, I am in just about as good a position to hate today as anyone. When November approaches, the day looms like a curse; an arcane sigil of evil upon the calendar. My own nightmare began at 4:30 this morning, and it’s a tale of valiance and sacrifice, all in the name of cheap merchandise.
The ride in is a surreal one: the still-dark roads are deserted as one would normally expect at this ungodly hour, but as I turn into the parking lot I am met with a packed gridiron of vehicles. One overeager fellow nearly clips my fender. Though the only vacant parking space is naturally the one most geographically distant from the front door, I moan with relief that there are any at all. I disembark and receive my first glimpse of the motley assembly milling about alongside the building…and immediately double check that my door is locked.
I take my approach to the front door as an opportunity to survey what I’m up against this day. My murky pre-dawn path takes me along the flank of a turbulent congress of price-conscious consumers loosely arrayed in a line, and I can’t help but feel a little like a double-agent spying on an opposing army as it is readying itself to do battle against my brethren. People in line gaze hungrily at me as though viewing the meal they will soon feast upon, and their looks say soon, you’re mine. An odd calm is palpable as I enter and take my prearranged position in my department among my sullen co-workers.
As I shoot a tentative glance up and down the line, I read a grim mixture of apprehension and determination upon the faces of my comrades. It has come at last to this, and it is unfortunate, but what will be will be…they don’t want to fall today, no of course not, but they are resigned if that is to be their fate. In mere moments the first wave will advance and crash upon us like surf on a rocky beach, and in the countenance of my co-workers is to be read a marriage of courage, fear and hopelessness. It’s like a scene out of Braveheart.
The intercom crackles to life and one of the managers warbles some last-minute words of encouragement and begins a gruesome countdown to Zero Time. Five…four…three…my stomach knots itself in a fit of anxiety. One! Through the window I see the first rays of sunlight wash over the horizon to welcome the imminent clash. Peeking over the tops of the various gondolas and floorstands that serve as our front line, I can just barely see the top of the door slide casually and laboriously open as though in mockery of the moment’s urgency.
The initial moments pass in silence, but then we begin to hear the first murmur…a distant clashing as of an infantry advancing through a forest, drawing slowly nearer as the sounds of melee rise louder bit by bit. A cry of pain somewhere off to the left is followed by someone else’s bellow of triumph – first one to the bargain digital camera! Our fingers tighten collectively on our clipboards. We peer over the barrier of TiVos stacked around our area as though gazing out over the wall of a fortress under siege. With no warning, the first crazed shopper comes crashing into view, his expression gnarled by lack of sleep, and is just as quickly picked off by an equally enthusiastic salesperson. We are allowed only a few quick startled breaths before the first wave breaks through out of the labyrinth of product displays with a shout, and the engagement is on. I am afraid for my life, of course…but there’s no turning back now and I will see today through to whatever fate it may hold for me. My destiny is mine to control, and the day will be won.
Okay, so it’s probably become clear to you by now that I’m exaggerating a bit: the door didn’t open that slowly. No really, Black Friday is rough, but all it really amounts to is long lines and even longer hours at the stores. Hundreds of people walking, shuffling and even running around, over and through one another, packing the building to the limits of the fire code, all of them trying to locate bargains. Dozens of the same questions asked over and over, screaming children, colliding shopping carts, TVs and stereos blasting at full volume until a constant high-pitched buzz is all you can hear…the whole ball of wax. At some point someone usually faints from all the standing up which is always good for a chuckle. If the store opens at 6 am, the super-discounted “door buster” items (as the marketing nitwits have labeled them) are usually cleaned out before eight.
Bottom line, you cannot venture out of doors on this day without knowing that a dark treasure awaits you and that the best approach is to just settle down and accept that you will stand around waiting for a very long time. For the most part people comply with surprising resignation. A few idiots always seem to feel entitled to faster service and a bottomless inventory from which to draw, but of course the simple logistics of the situation make this impossible and we, for the most part, are allowed to laugh them off just this once. It will be crazy pretty much every day until after the holidays are over, and I guess the only real problem I have with this is that it prevents me from enjoying the holidays myself. I’m kind of a sucker for Christmas, but days like today sort of rob it of whatever magic it holds. Still, laugh I shall.
But twelve hours later, I hope you’ll forgive me if I collapse right here and now. At least it’s over…until tomorrow. Let the battle be joined again…
