The Best of Black Friday

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Hi.  My name is Amy, and I am a Black Friday shopper.
I rarely spend more than $100 that day (usually less than $50), including breakfast.
I don't stand outside on line in front of a store, hoping to be one of the first 14 shoppers to purchase a limited quantity item.
I don't plan a shopping strategy.
I don't have a team of friends and relatives, connected by cell phone, to report the success/failure rate of the waiting in line or of the strategy of the shopping.
I shop alone.

My goal:  people-watching

While the term "Black Friday" refers to the day after
 Thanksgiving, when merchants hope to turn their yearly revenue from "in the red" (profit loss) to "in the black" (profit gain), to me, it means a day to spread some cheer, share some good will, and maybe arrive home a few stocking stuffers or nifty gifts "richer" for my family.  I like providing surprises.  Black Friday usually allows for me to do that -- and in ways that have nothing to do with material goods.

I began my Black Friday jaunts in 1997.  Through the years, I have found interesting ways to surprise fellow shoppers. From reporting the best (shortest) check-out lines hidden in the sporting goods' section of the store to giving someone else my place in line, my $10-off coupons, and my ability to distract their youngsters for a few minutes while they ease a special toy into a shopping bag, I have found my favorite thing to do is lend a hand in whatever way presents itself.

I have fun, feel satisfied and successful, and justify my getting up at 4:00 a.m. to pick up a cup of coffee at the convenience store and head out into the insanity that reins supreme.  I hope to give someone a break or to calm a harried mother's jangled nerves.  I hope to share the "God in my" and remind someone what the whole Christmas thing means.  And yes, I do hope to find a bargain here or there, if I stumble upon one.

I enjoy the inky blackness of late November morning, and I feel a little sad when the sun does begin to rise.  I like the darkness on this day, and I like being out in it with the crazies who "must buy" or ... or what?  Self-destruct?

Something else stands out very clearly in my 15 years of Black Friday memories.  The man I married waits for me.  He remains at home, keeping watch over home and family, which I find very attractive.  My husband does not feel especially comfortable in the kitchen, nor does he feel entirely capable of fielding kids' questions or meeting their needs-turned-demand when Mom isn't home.  I'm his back-up, his helper, and his teammate -- when I don't mistakingly say something unteammate-like.  I always hope he will stay asleep until I arrive home before 10:30 a.m., to catch up on what he rarely gets enough of, but usually, I hear from him well before 6:00.  He checks on me, making sure I haven't been trampled to the ground at JCPenney, or caught in a melée at Target. Though, if those things happened, I don't know how he would rescue me, because he'd never find a parking spot.

He wonders what time I will finish, and asks if I'm enjoying myself.  He has no concern about what I might spend, because he knows I don't spend much.  He likes to be in on the surprises, and wears a little boy grin when I warn him to not look in this or that bag, knowing I have something tucked in there for him.

He looks out for me by cell phone from our bed or from our family room, reporting on the goings on at home when the children awake.  He waits patiently, never asking for me to drop what I am doing to come home, except for one year when I needed to nurse our 6-week old baby half-way through the morning.  Even so, he waited until the last possible minute to ask.

When I arrive home, he clears the scene so I can smuggle any bags or packages to appropriate locations, and listens to the stories I have to tell.  My husband travels regularly for work, and in comparison, this is my time in the trenches.  He does not "do" Black Friday, so hearing stories about lost tempers or frustrated shoppers or touching moments that sometimes occur in the frenzy of western Pennsylvania humanity, all out to shop together, makes him curious.  I talk.  He listens.  We bond.

And, when it's all over, he helps get lunch on the table, tries to get me to take a nap (he's wildly successful at this), and pretty much makes me feel like this is my day.  I feel closer to him, and he feels protective of me. We both win.

When people hear that I love (strong word, love) Black Friday, they don't often really understand the people-watching aspect, or the interest in wending through multitudes of tunnel-visioned humans who seem only to focus on that X-Box that the store ran out of 2 customers ago.

Add the fact that my husband and I connect because I am away, etc., etc., and I can ensure confusion in the listener.  Mainly, explaining my heart like that would make me cry.  This is why I write, instead.

So, yes.  I love Black Friday.  It brings out the best in people, if you look.