(photo credit: Black Friday @ 5th Avenue by Frank Tasche on flickr.com. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/legalcode.)
I had to go shopping today. My daughter needs a few things before she returns to college tomorrow, and we refused to take on the task on Black Friday. The weather was beautiful; we had outdoor things to do; the idea of shopping didn’t even make it onto the list.
The idea of Black Friday bothers me, but even more so, the craziness that ensues when there is a sale in every store makes me want to hide in a corner, head facing the wall, attached to an oxygen tank. I’d rather do without than fight the crowds.
My expectations for today’s shopping were (I thought) realistic. I expected some crowds; I expected some traffic; I expected some crazy. But what I found was this: the Saturday after Thanksgiving is the new Black Friday.
It was miserable out there. I wanted to crawl into that hidden corner, but I didn’t have a choice. My daughter needed mittens, she needed toiletries, she needed food. I’d already agreed to pay for the stuff and I knew the shopping trip would be my chance to have a little alone time with her before she went back to school.
Well, we weren’t exactly alone. Except in the car. If we ignored the erratic drivers cutting in and out of our lane, trying to push forward ahead of everybody else.
Exactly like they do in the stores. On Black Friday. Which is now on Saturday.
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