Ahhhhh
…time once again for the Holiday Trifecta – eating, sleeping and
SHOPPING.
Ahhhhh…time once again for the Holiday Trifecta – eating, sleeping and SHOPPING.
Officially it began the morning after Thanksgiving. Television newscasts played a clip ad infinitum showing male shoppers erupting into fisticuffs at a Wal-Mart store.
Attempting to purchase a ridiculously low-priced laptop, these well-bred gentlemen went at it because the store had sold out all but one, and each was determined to have it.
The lucky winner of what these dim-witts apparently thought was the last laptop on earth wasn’t disclosed.
But I envisioned the hapless little computer laying on the floor of Wal-Mart, broken to bits as the mêlée ensued, its tiny hard-drive heart beating faintly, never to boot-up again.
Black Friday it is called, the day after Thanksgiving when retailers expect a year of lackluster sales to finally gather steam, heaving their bottom lines into positive fiscal territory.
Between Thanksgiving and Dec. 31, I endeavor to practice major mall abstinence.
Parking lots are a war zone on the weekends. Tyrants of the tarmac circle incessantly in search of the rarely-seen empty parking space.
Pity the timid driver who sits helplessly behind the wheel as crazed motorists flash past in a blur, cutting everyone off at the pass as they zip into that rare bird of December – an open parking place.
Inside the mall – assuming the parking gods are benevolent – we risk death by trampling as shoppers sprint for the clearance tables.
Swiftness and bargains are the twin essences of December shopping.
Throwing caution to the winds, we rapidly analyze whether Uncle Fred would actually wear the fluorescent striped necktie that’s been marked down 27 times.
We speculate whether the Bargain of the Century, a two-foot plaster replica of Venus de Milo, would ever grace Aunt Fern’s coffee table.
I can’t speak for others about why certain shopping disasters occur. But personally, I blame it on the Mrs. Field’s cookie fumes.
As we wave our credit cards at beleaguered cashiers, we know in our hearts that many of these flawed selections will find their way back to the mall come Dec. 26.
But relentlessly we push on, soldiers trooping up the hill of consumerism, crossing off names on our ever-expanding gift lists.
Like beasts of burden we tote our mountain of packages, realizing with dismay we still have more gifts to buy and zero amount of arm space. This requires the “dreaded visit” to the Parking Lot for a quick off-loading of shopping bags.
Oh, so casually we stroll toward our waiting vehicles, secretly scanning the lot for trolling automobiles containing car-bound shoppers hungry for our parking place.
I have been known to actually arrive at my vehicle and keep on walking if a hulking SUV is pursuing me, Jaws-like, a few feet behind.
Only when there are no moving vehicles within 500 yards do I throw open the trunk and fling in my packages.
Hurriedly slamming the trunk, I prepare to scurry back toward the relative safety of the mall before someone spots me and I’m assaulted for not surrendering my space.
Too late … an annoyed member of the Parking Lot Patrol blasts his horn at me. BIG mistake. After the day I’ve had, I’m in no mood to be getting the horn.
“BACK OFF, BUSTER!” I blast back.
Ahhhhh….’tis the season of merriment and love for our fellow man.
As long as they don’t snatch the last laptop or refuse to relinquish their coveted parking place.
