Singing the Black Friday Blues: A View From the Retail Floor
December 15, 2002
by Craig Curtice

You’ll have to excuse me if I’m not in the merriest of moods. As a cagey retail veteran that has survived the horrors of Christmas shopping past, I am enduring yet another long and ridiculous shopping season. It started all over again on Black Friday (also known as the day-after Thanksgiving) with the shop-by-phoners, the rack-wreckers, the “just looking,” the screaming kids, the zombies yapping on cell phones clutching coffee, and of course, the just plain stupid. They come from near and far, to torture defenseless salespeople, to clog the malls window-shopping, and to door-ding your car in unlit parking lots.

Dealing with the public rarely receives credit, especially in retail. Brave salespeople across the country are just like you; they have family responsibilities, school, kids, and a socially demanding job to already stress about, they don’t need you bitching that all the shoes and clothes nowadays are made in China. It’s certainly not the poor sales girls’ fault that it’s somehow cheaper to ship raw and finished goods around the planet over and over, than it is to make stuff right here in the U.S. If China ever gets tired of making our athletic shoes, we will be a nation that will have to go barefoot. Stuff that in your stocking.

What people don’t fully realize about Christmas is that it also kicks off some ugly tension behind the scenes – storeowners and managers wring hands over sales figures, while someone has to wait on the onslaught of stressed-out shoppers for weeks. Black Friday isn’t the biggest shopping day of the year; it’s actually the last Saturday before Christmas, because lots of folks get paid on the 15th, and any bonuses are often dolled out soon after. This is when things really heat up, and actual sales appear.

If you were waiting in line at 6:00 am the day after Thanksgiving, you deserve to get trampled fighting for a $29 DVD player. There’s a reason it’s $29; it probably won’t last two months, much less mean something special to anyone a year from now. And are people actually buying Chia Pets as heartfelt gifts? Nothing says “I love you” more than a small clay head sprouting tiny leaves. The biggest joke on the planet is gift cards and certificates. Just give Junior the cash instead. All he’s going to do anyway is pick out an inexpensive store item then get the cash difference so he can secretly buy sex toys.

But the real fun in this yearly charade begins when the returns start flooding back after the big day. Hey I understand this is part of the big, dumb process – somebody’s got to clean the stadium after the Super Bowl and sweep the streets after Mardi Gras. But really, when it comes to bad gift giving, personal accountability no longer exists, ignorance has replaced common sense, and buyer’s remorse leads to constant returns.

See the problem spread when the giants of retail (like Sears & L.L. Bean) began awarding stupidity by adopting policies of taking anything back, no matter what the condition it’s in, or length of time it’s been out of the store. That leaves thousands of independent stores to try to enforce fair, but more realistic and timely policies.

The person who coined the phrase “The customer is always right” must’ve been a total dick. Picture Judge Smails from Caddyshack clicking his heels and waving his finger, snorting, “The world needs ditch-diggers too, and by the way, the customer is always right.” People who play that card are usually wrong, but worst yet are those who feel somehow cheated. Like the guy who shows up the day after Christmas without a receipt and wants a refund for a pair of black fleece pants covered in popcorn, pine needles and dog hair.

He’ll beg, “I just wore them yesterday wrestling with the dog, drunk under the tree.” Oh Boo-hoo – the pants are yours. Okay, who’s next? You – with the walker, let me help you with those backcountry snowshoes.”

An actual true story: A unnamed customer purchases an expensive pair of winter gloves, then travels out of town to see a Buffalo Bills game. Amidst tens of thousands of inebriated spectators, he loses the left glove. The next day, he returns to the store insisting that someone should replace his lost glove at no charge.

“Sure I said, I’ll just call the left–handed glove warehouse and have it over-nighted to you. In the meantime you poor thing, here’s five bucks, why don’t you get yourself a bagel and some coffee next door.” Sniff. I love his job.

More seasonal idiocy: A sporting goods store bustles with customers on a crisp December afternoon. The phone at the front desk is ringing again, and a clerk rushes to answer it.

Clerk: Hello Ski Shack, how may I help you?
Clueless Idiot: um, uh, yeah, do you guys carry 20-gallon fish tanks?
Clerk: (rolling eyes) uh, no…we mainly carry skis, snowboards, and bindings…
Clueless Idiot: uh, hmm, what about sleeve-less vests?
Clerk: You mean opposed to vests with sleeves?

Chances are that there isn’t a record or bookstore in the country that can boast that their entire stock is perfectly alphabetized thanks to inconsiderate morons. I once found a half-eaten cheese sandwich left mushed on shelf at a bookstore. Why? For the same reason some people are intentionally rude to waitresses, some people fling through clothing racks intentionally trying to make a mess. The Christmas pickers are out in force again this season leaving a path of destruction that must be constantly addressed. At least a waitress gets tipped.

So how about instead of fighting traffic, navigating crowds, and badgering poor salespeople for the next two weeks, you stop by a children’s hospital and offer to read books or something (the sound you just heard was me getting on my high horse).

Now that I’m up here, on a somewhat related note, just remember when buying copies of Finding Nemo that you are supporting a movie that promotes mass fish genocide. No, seriously. In the first five minutes of the film, Marlin’s wife and over 400 nearly hatched fish eggs die a grisly death. I ask, was that really necessary? Couldn’t the story just have jumped in ahem, midstream with Marlin a single dad simply concerned about Nemo’s first day of school? Why don’t you just take the kiddies to see Tarantino’s Kill Bill for Christmas?

Whew, I’m glad I got that off my chest, it’s been a long day on the killing uh, selling floor, and it’s high time to unwind. There’s no better way than some King Diamond No Presents For Christmas on the turntable and drinking this monster eggnog my brother makes with lighter fluid.

Merry Christmas Savage Steve Holland – wherever you are.

(Craig Curtice is a volunteer staff writer for 2 Walls Webzine)