I’m a Black Friday purist.
All year long I see the ads and I’m torn. I love deals, but I also embrace tradition. And I don’t think I’m a gullible fool. Because of this I’ve decided to finally speak out.
Black Friday used to be a sacred moment in time—or at least a moment somewhere around midnight following a big Thanksgiving dinner.
Talk about a tryptophan conundrum. Remember those days?
You were tired from prepping and cooking and eating so much turkey (not to mention all the forced smiles toward Aunt Irma and fake laughter at Uncle Stan’s flatulence jokes.)
But you were thankful, darn it! Because despite it all, you had one thing besides the sweet potato casserole to look forward to. After the meal and the mess of cleaning up, you got to fight sleep, fight traffic and fight the crowds just for the privilege of experiencing Black Friday in its truest, unadulterated sense.
DVDs for just a dollar? One of those new flat-screen TVs for half price? Count me in!
Black Friday used to be pure. It used to be true to what it originally set out to be. It used to occur on or about midnight (so technically on Friday) after Thanksgiving—hence the name. It used to be special. It was almost like a new family tradition in the making.
And then, well, things changed.
Like so many things in life, the bright lights of black Friday were darkened by commercialism. And, like so many things in life, it started gradually.
Black Friday originally started at midnight. And then one store or maybe two started their sale earlier in the day. And then we moved it to Wednesday and online and after that the waters were muddied forevermore. There was no going back.
Black Friday was no longer Friday and it was no longer black. Every day and every color wanted into the mix.
And why wouldn’t they? Black Friday had created a movement unknown to humankind. It was only a matter of time before the rest of us would horn in and wreck it.
Now Black Friday happens more than a few times a year. It seems like every time I turn around, another Black Friday is approaching with deals, deals and more really big deals!
Here’s the problem: when deals are happening all the time, they probably aren’t deals at all. They are simply commercialism. And I have no need to feed commercialism. (Unless it’s a really good deal.)
I want bargains! Too-goodto- be-true American bargains! Like Black Friday was in the beginning.
I used to stay up late on Thanksgiving just to experience Black Friday. Now, the plethora of Black Fridays throughout the year simply makes me tired. I long for the innocence of piling two-for-one bed pillows into my cart and waiting in line for half an hour just for the privilege of purchasing them.
But I understand that’s a ship that’s already sailed. We can say the words “Black Friday.” We can read them in ads, but they don’t have the same meaning they did in the beginning.
The purity of Black Friday is gone. Those of us who enjoyed the earnest beginnings—the good old days—mourn the loss.
Perhaps a new tradition will crop up to take its place. In the meantime, think of all the extra time you now have to eat a second piece of pumpkin pie, or maybe just indulge in another scoop of mashed potatoes.
Or maybe both. Enjoy!
Jill Pertler is an awardwinning syndicated columnist, published playwright and author.
