Black Friday Never Ends

For weeks we’ve been barraged with relentless Black Friday sales pitches from every single business or organization that has captured our email addresses and there’s no end in sight. Stretching out Black Friday from a previously sacred day to more than two months has taken all the fun out of it.

I used to love Black Friday. Its exclusivity made it an exhilarating challenge, one that required both physical and mental stamina. We woke at dawn, still digesting last night’s turkey, sweet potatoes and apple pie, grabbed coffee and drove to the mall, where we waited for hours until the doors opened. Then we charged inside like the bulls in Pamplona. It was glorious.  

I have fond memories of being part of those teeming masses, yearning to buy one, get one free, and scooping up a cashmere sweater and a down comforter at half off. With my Hanukkah gift list in hand, I did what Jews do so well: Find the biggest discounts possible on the best possible merchandise. Hefting armloads of shopping bags, I felt strong and victorious, my bicep muscles blooming, my credit card twitching from repetitive stress injuries. It wasn’t all fun and games, though. One year, sprinting through the cosmetics department at Macy’s, I nearly blacked out when a saleswoman aimed and fired a new Estee Lauder cologne spray at me. It was not an effective sales strategy. Today such a tactic would probably result in a lawsuit. 

Undeterred by ongoing online bargains, many people still take Black Friday as a holy pilgrimage. I say, to the victor go the spoils. If my left knee wasn’t groaning and popping irritably, I’d probably join them. They, at least, can still burn off hundreds of calories while zigzagging the mall, enjoying the adrenalin rush of snagging the very last Ralph Lauren puffer coat in their size — for 75% off — a nanosecond before a rival consumer could get her paws on it.  

Me? I’m in a Black Friday stupor, clicking from Amazon to Eddie Bauer to some cookware company I never heard of offering a lightweight version of a Dutch oven for less than $100 and that has more than 400 five-star reviews. I am torn between asking myself, “Do you really need it?” aware the answer is no, but hating to pass up the irresistible savings on every consumer item, including on the robot vacuum that my daughter insists will change my life. However, I like my life. I also don’t mind sweeping and vacuuming.  

It’s ironic that we are submerged into shopping mania during the season of giving thanks for what we already have. It’s an exercise in discipline, because retailers play hardball, not only during holiday season but year-round. Months ago, I admired a skirt from Ann Taylor and added it to my online shopping cart. I left it there, deciding not to buy it.

It’s ironic that we are submerged into shopping mania during the season of giving thanks for what we already have. It’s an exercise in discipline, because retailers play hardball, not only during holiday season but year-round.

But the next day the company sent me an email with the subject line, “Forgot something?” and showed me a picture of my lovely, lonely skirt, languishing in the shopping cart. I deleted the email, but Ann would not be deterred. I played hard to get, ignoring a salvo of daily emails, each one showing me the skirt and teasing: “Don’t let it slip away! This one’s going fast!” “Treat yourself!” “Free shipping on orders over $75!” I couldn’t believe that a company that sells hundreds of millions of dollars a year was working with such gritty determination to sell one lousy skirt. When they sent an email challenging me, “You know you want it,” I unsubscribed.

In our commerce-soaked online culture, we are always just a click away from the delight (no matter how temporary) of a new purchase. But as it says in Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers), “Who is wealthy? One who finds joy within their portion.” 

Ultimately, wealth is a state of mind. And sometimes, the welcome sight of another box delivered to your doorstep, containing a budget, lightweight Dutch oven.

Judy Gruen is the author of “Bylines and Blessings,” “The Skeptic and the Rabbi,” and several other books. She is also a book editor and writing coach.