AH, BLACK FRIDAY, the holiday of American consumerism, when demon-eyed shoppers fight for discount flat-screens across this great nation. It's not the sort of holiday you can wish somebody a happy one of. It's more like gloomy Yom Kippur, when you wish people 'an easy fast.'
I am not strictly opposed to consumerism; surely we can all enjoy a bit of exuberant retail now and then without harm. But the consumerism of Black Friday has a maniacal, desperate tone. It is not billed as a fun day out shopping, but as a sort of mall armageddon. Getting gifts becomes, in this model, a massive, panic-stricken mission rather than a cool opportunity to think up a few things loved ones might enjoy. Talk of 'door-busters' and 4am store openings, frantic ads during Thanksgiving football, whip buyers into a retail feeding frenzy.
Black Friday ads are designed to create a perception of urgent need and brief abundance, to be followed by dire scarcity. These deals won't last, they grimly warn. Get yours NOW, before they're ALL GONE. Women in commercials compare their bag takes, implicitly competing for some 21st century homemaking prize. The shoppers at big box stores look like looters, grabbing what they can while the getting is good. Walmart challenges customers to 'win the day.'
 |
| Walmart challenges you to win it. |
The very name has the ring of doomsday. Black Tuesday was when the 1929 stock market crashed, for godsakes, ushering in the Great Depression. This is how we kick off the Most Wonderful Time of the Year©?
The purpose of the madness is for everybody to get what they want on Christmas, without it costing a fortune. That sounds like an okay idea. It is amazing how many shiny gadgets, lovely clothes and complicated toys can be had today on a reasonable budget, and, hey, I'm all for bargain shopping and not immune to shiny gadgetry. And yet it sounds awfully nice for retailers not to manipulate us so crassly, for kids not to expect Playstations, and for moms not to feel obliged to camp out at Walmart to buy them.
