As Thanksgiving weekend comes to a close and finals stalk closer like some jilted lover, the reminiscing over my favorite holiday can officially begin. The food is always excellent, the weather is typically Oregon-like, and the companionship of family and friends is a welcome reprieve from the stresses of college. But despite the excitement and expectations that come with any holiday, Thanksgiving is remarkably laid-back.
There is no pressure whatsoever — just a big meal, football on the TV, and plenty of time for rest and relaxation with the people we love.
But after the turkey, stuffing and potatoes have been consumed, and the requisite time spent with family and friends winds down, a curious mania settles over the country: The horror and obsession known as Black Friday sales.
Long considered the official beginning of the craziness that is holiday shopping, Black Friday boasts significantly reduced prices at shopping locations nationwide, and an opportunity for both customers and corporations to score major savings and profits, respectively.
Sought-after big-ticket items like electronics, furniture and toys are offered in limited quantities and drastically slashed prices, triggering a feeding frenzy of harried shoppers competing for the choicest products. Stores open their doors at midnight or early in the morning, encouraging shoppers to queue up outside hours in advance. I myself was unwillingly woken up at 3 a.m. this year, as my sisters clattered around the house preparing for a marathon expedition to all the local shops.
While the typical discounts offered are legitimately fantastic, the actual payoffs accrued from the various sacrifices made tend to be fairly small. Prices bounce back up around mid-day and the products with really low prices are snapped up within the first few hours after opening. Lesser shoppers are reduced to picking through the dregs, buying the more numerous $15-and-cheaper items in place of the long-gone 70 percent-off goods.
Yet stories of camping outside Best Buy so as to be the first in line, fighting tooth and claw to grab the last $3 Blu-Ray copy of the entire first season of “Jersey Shore,” and other general insanity of Black Friday shopping abound.
While shoppers gloat over their hard-fought-for and meager savings, the biggest winners are ultimately the huge chain companies that push Black Friday as such a major event, as it produces more profits than any other day of the year and signals the beginning of a shopping spree that carries into the New Year.
This isn’t the 5:30 rush at your local supermarket, either. More than 200 million shoppers engaged in this year’s bonanza, creating a shopping environment that is downright dangerous.
In the wee hours of Friday morning, CNN video cameras captured a shopper stampede in Buffalo, N.Y. A massive crowd of people pushed forward as the doors swung open at midnight, bowling over the front-runners and trampling them underfoot. Despite a prompt response by store security to stem the tide of the mob, several people were still injured, one seriously enough to require hospitalization.
On November 28th, 2008, a Wal-Mart security guard named Jdimytai Damour was suffocated to death by a crowd estimated to be at least 2,000 strong after the mass of humanity broke through doors opened for the
annual super-sale. At least three other people were injured, including a pregnant woman.
These are the acts of wild animals, not saving-conscious men and women trying to get a deal on a TV and a leaf blower. Today’s holidays are becoming more and more commercialized, beginning with the more benign Halloween and Thanksgiving celebrations and culminating with America’s most profitable marketing season of the year: Christmas. The hype and propaganda of the holiday “buying” season plays on the baser parts of our natures, turning the average person from conscientious citizen to deal-scavenging headhunters, prepared to kill for the sake of preserving those few extra dollars that invariably get spent on something else. After the tedious planning, staying up or waking extra-early, standing in line, pushing and shoving through hostile crowds, and risking life and limb to try and buy an item that may sell out before you enter the building, how much are you really saving?
The holidays were never supposed to be about the buying and receiving of gifts or hours spent devising strategies to hit select stores in search of a dream deal.
What happened to the simple, good aspects of the holidays? When I look back at the Thanksgivings and Christmases of my childhood, I remember the get-togethers with my friends and our parents, the epic battles fought over the chess board and the PlayStation 2 console, the camaraderie and the music, the decorations we made and the food we ate, and the first Christmas tree we decorated in our new house. But all those simple pleasures appear to have been pushed aside and forgotten in favor of a “shop ’til you drop” mentality.
Thanksgiving and Christmas are slowly being corrupted with credit cards. Instead of savoring every holiday moment with the friends and family members whom we can’t find time for during the hustle and bustle of an average work week, we’re out pounding the pavement in search of that cheaper laptop or the less expensive bicycle.
America’s got to get those deals, after all.
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