I caved.
After years of successfully not buying anything from Thanksgiving Day through Cyber Monday as a protest against excess consumption and consumerism, I went shopping on Black Friday.
For the last several years I’ve held my ground and kept Thanksgiving it’s own private holiday. A time to remember that I have enough and I am enough before I shop and start to feel bad about money and bad about myself for not having enough. Holiday shopping inevitably turns into an anxiety filled struggle to stretch my limited money into physical expressions of my unlimited love. It’s a no-win situation.
On Thanksgiving the pressure is off. Instead of getting presents, it’s about being present and giving thanks. There’s nothing to obsess over or feel bad about except the stomachache that comes from over eating or the undercutting comment made by a family member at the dinner table. The success of the day doesn’t hinge on buying something. For my family, this even includes food. Some years, if our grocery shopping needs coincide with turkey sales and cheap pumpkin pies, or if we are hosting friends or family with “traditional” meal expectations, we spend money on the usual trappings. But usually we make a meal out of what we have. This year I had frozen green chili that needed to be eaten, so we had smothered chicken sopapillas.
Yet this year, as my spouse, my two daughters and I sat down with our crock-pot pumpkin spice cake to play the disease-fighting board game “Pandemic,” there was an empty feeling, a tug from the belly. We all had it—the hunger to go shopping because we knew we could. Stores that were usually closed on Thanksgiving were now opening their doors and inviting us in to their once private holiday.
At 6:30 p.m. on Friday we could withstand the pressure no longer. We hopped into our minivan and headed to the outdoor mall. And we were excited to do it.
Our first stop was Macy’s because I had coupons. I saw no door buster deals. Perhaps it was because we put our heads down, plugged our noses and rushed by the women in black waiting to don us with perfume and make-up samples when we entered, but once I got to the doorway in the men’s section all I saw were random empty boxes on carts with wheels. Had we missed the door busters? Should we have acted on our Thanksgiving night urge? There was no way to tell.
The store was surprisingly empty, there was no expected mad rush of pushing and shoving. There were a few “Sale” signs—“Take an extra 15% with your Macy’s card”—but nothing more than you see on any given day. The soft flannel pajama pants were $29.99 a pair, down from $39.99. After scoffing at the price, I bought two for my daughter when she wondered off. I found a gray men’s light wool trench coat I wanted to buy for my husband until I saw that it was $250—on sale! I never made it beyond the men’s section by the time the rest of my family had left Macy’s walked the length of the mall, ogled over a computer in the new Microsoft store, stopped for coffee in Peet’s and returned to find me. I was the only one with a shopping bag.
After making an excuse to split up one more time, I ran to Lululemon. To my horror I found that the number one item on my youngest daughter’s list—a pair of Lulu’s Astro Tall Yoga Pants—was $98. I asked the smiling sales clerk if they were having any kind of Black Friday sale. “No, just our normal sale rack” she said as she pointed to a rack with a neon yellow tank top and two pairs of black shorts hanging on it. The only door buster was me high-tailing it out of there after forking over the $98.
We made brief stops at Barnes and Noble, REI and Urban Outfitters because they were the only stores still open at 8:30 p.m. There were no sales to speak of, and all the items my daughters’ liked well enough to point out to me were full price. We left empty handed.
Our last stop was Target. We took a chance that it would be open beyond 9:00 and drove the extra miles to get there. It turned out to be the best deal of the night. All clothes and accessories were 40% off for the day making their usually low prices even lower. I sent the kids off and filled my cart. On the way home we laughed about the non-deals and expressed our gratitude to Target for giving us the Black Friday Deal we had hoped to find.
My Thanksgiving may have turned all to quickly into Thanksgetting, but I’m not convinced that was an entirely bad thing. By giving in I got to go holiday shopping with my family, something that has never occurred before. I’m usually too busy obsessing while they roll their eyes at me as I make lists, cut coupons, and search the Internet for the best stores with the best deals before heading out—alone. The truth is, I’ll never know if I’m getting the best deal or not. The truth is, I will shop each holiday season whether I start on Thanksgiving or not. The truth is everyday I make a conscious choice to practice gratitude for all the people and things I have in my life. Just as the system creates the illusion of the Black Friday deal, it too creates the illusion that I am not enough or do not have enough. This year, instead of buying that, I bought some gifts for my family and had a grateful time doing it.