Thousands of people converge, scratching and clawing their way through just opened doorways, scrambling to put their master plan to work. The singular focus is finding a deal; on a conscience-easing gluttony, whereby expensive items are justified by their lowered price tag, an inordinate amount of cash dropped when penny pinching might have otherwise been exhibited.
Everyone is in the same line. You turn around and it seems as if everyone has moved into your scope of vision. Everywhere you look: red faces, fingers grasping for their credit cards, exhausted eyelids slowly closing over bloodshot eyes.
Some had mapped out a campaign the day before, spending more time being resourceful than thankful. Others camped out – two days ahead of time! – to bring home an item to which little emotion will be connected in a month or two.
Need! Want! Have! It’s not consumerism or a product-driven kickoff to the holiday season that’s so horrible – it’s the sense of entitlement, that these people deserve the best deal and no one else can possibly stop them.
I’ve been in the business before. I’ve stood on the other side of a teeming mass of shoppers, staring at them through the glass doors as a Best Buy opened, my blue shirt and khaki pants prepared for the worse. My eyelids were equally heavy, my eyes equally bloodshot. And in watching from the other side, I discovered how truly despicable humanity can be when you step between the entitled and their prey. I’ve seen pushing. Shoving. Items stolen behind another shopper’s back.
For me, the end of the magic came in 1996. At 6:00 AM – the typical opening time before this 4 AM ridiculousness came to pass – I watched people rush for a free scanner. The numbers were not equal – there was one fewer scanner than there was people. A middle-aged man, beginning to gray, seemingly middle-class, with a tucked-in golf shirt and a wife elsewhere in the store.
The man turned to the older woman next to him – a woman who couldn’t be any younger than 70. He sensed opportunity, grabbed the scanner from her hands, turned and walked away.
My faith in humanity – during this, the beginning of this country’s most intimate time, a holiday that causes each person to give a little more and dig a little deeper – was soiled.
So to me, Black Friday is more than a day to brave the throes of consumerism, ducking your head and barging into the mix with little regard for anything but your needs and your safety. To me, it’s the worst of our culture. It’s over the top, mob-like hooliganism, sponsored by Target and underwritten by Best Buy. Everything is uphill once the day has passed; it’s the season’s lowest point.
And yet, I find myself in that mix. Every year. Muttering to myself, wondering what the hell I’m doing, participating in the hooliganism, as if I was tipping over rubbish bins in order not to be outed. This year, a broken television was to be replaced. And replaced it was.
Black Friday is necessary. It kick starts our economy every holiday season. It’s as much a part of Thanksgiving as turkey and the Detroit Lions. Really, as much as I hate to say it, it’s a crucial part of being an American. It’s a train wreck, a bloody, gory mess on the side of the Interstate, a horrible sight that you’re both repulsed by and driven to. I hate it. I love it. Most of all, I’m frightened by it – by what it means, by what it exposes in each of us, by the different people we become. Some are strong enough to resist it. They’re smart. But they’re also missing all the fun.
Really, when you stand back and take a look at it – peer at it through a magnifying glass and examine each pore and follicle, it’s a phenomenon that can never be contained.
In other words – it’s a horrible day to have your television go out on you.
You and have a lot in common, Corey. I sold computers at Best Buy during the Christmas season of 1998, the year the computer “package” dipped under $1,000. It was hell.
The consumerism of this country drives me nuts. We’re collectively broke, but it doesn’t matter — we have to keep buying. Buy, buy, buy.
For all her faults and other baggage, I think Oprah has done a good job shedding light on the financial problems of the average American family. She’s run several shows about how the average family is so deeply in debt and buys stuff not because it needs to, but because we have this hole in ourselves that we need to fill with something.
I read No Impact Man, which is a blog by a guy in New York who is trying to live with minimal impact on the environment. To this end, he buys nothing, and he says that he feels more fulfilled as a human being than he has ever felt.
I try not to buy much. I have a 13-year-old son that, of course, wants to buy everything brand new. We struggle to constantly remind him that “newer isn’t always better.” My wife’s favorite line is direct from Oprah: “Wear it out, or do without.”
He sat on my ironing board a couple of months ago and broke it — the leg bent completely to the floor. He was horrified when I just straightened the leg out as best I could, and continued to iron on this wobbly ironing board. I explained to him that it still worked fine, and by buying a new one, we’d would just end up wasting money and contributing to a landfill somewhere.
There are a couple documentaries that are interesting on this topic:
“Maxed Out” is about the debt situation of the average American. It’s scary.
“What Would Jesus Buy” is new, and I haven’t seen it. It’s about Black Friday in particular, and consumerism in general.
It comes down to personal choice. Some people are know are compelled to buy things. They they get a raise or bonus, their first thought is: “What can I buy?”
My first thought is, “what can I pay off,” “what can I save,” or “what upcoming expense can I knock out early?” In that sense, I’m buying something too — I’m buying freedom.
Count me as with Deane on this one. “Money buys freedom” is one of the most important phrases I’ve ever heard. It’s impossible to be homeless, hungry or sick with money.
Very true. We’ve adopted the usual monetary plans – save, pay off, etc. We have simple tastes. We live comfortably because we live simply. Who needs a new car when you can have a free one (as in, paid off, no bills). Who needs a $1500 television when you can save up and get a smaller one for 1/3 the price (and no credit card fees!)
Yet, it’s human nature to always want more, I think. And we all fall into that hole sometimes. It’s difficult, and I admire both of you for seemingly traversing that ugly side of human nature. I’m humbly attempting to do it myself.
P.S. – Deane – which Best Buy did you work at? In S.F.? If so, I think we worked there at the same time – I quit the media department to become a asst. manager at Software Etc. during the summer of 1999. Small world.
Yes, it was the one in Sioux Falls.
I was hired by Wayne Petree (sp?) in late 1998, and worked up through my wedding in mid-1999. Then I technically became seasonal/occasional, but never worked another day. They “fired” me when I wouldn’t work Black Friday 1999.
I sold computers. The senior was Jamie someone-or-other for a while, then Steve Van Westin (sp?). Patrick someone-or-other was the sales manager.
Incidentally, this comment over at CMS Report was from me, about my experience at Best Buy. (There were paragraph breaks in it when I published it, I swear…)
Yes, I too was hired by Wayne Petree. I worked in Media, which was a glorified stock boy. Low pressure, low responsibility. I enjoyed the job and worked there for a while – it was my first job at 16, and I worked from 1995-1999. I was the guy who kept the video game department organized, and I would often be dragged over to answer computer questions.
Steve was there near the end of my campaign. I remember a Jamie too. I have a feeling you worked when I was in college (graduated 1997) so I was seasonal – only early morning stocking (6-2:30) during the summer.
Small world, I tell you.
On the Baseline comments – yeah, I remember I didn’t have to sell warranties, thank God – but I do remember the ridiculousness of them. I don’t remember the wireless microphones – that was something I thankfully missed out on.
I started working there when it was down the mall, where the furniture store is now. I helped move it into the old PharMor building. It was an amazingly fun job back then. It started to suck when we became a bigger store with bigger responsibility.
[...] 2007. Television breaks. An HD television is purchased on Black Friday. Sports will never be the [...]