My mother taught me to be polite to strangers. If someone opens a door for me, I respond, “how kind.” If I open the door and get a thank you, I respond, “no problem at all.” I let people with less food items than I have in the grocery store go ahead of me. But all of that changes on one day of the year—Black Friday.
Black Friday, a day of grabbing, pushing, shoving and endless trips around the parking lot looking for that last elusive parking spot.
On Black Friday, I become, like so many others, ruthless. I want bargains. I want deals. I want that last item on the shelf—not because I need it, because it’s the last one and its mine. I will wrestle you to the ground for it because I saw it first.
I line up outside of the door of a big box store or the mall waiting for it to open. I feel like I am in the Indy 500 race—my cart is revved up and I am checking out who is in the pole position that I have to beat to be the first one inside. The door opens and I am unstoppable. Suddenly I hear a Beach Boys song playing in my head. It’s my theme song. Look out shoppers, I’m the “little old lady from Pasadena, go granny, go granny, go granny, go.”
Right off the bat, I find the perfect gift for my sister. It’s a combination toilet bowl cleaner and kitchen mixer. I really had to fight off a crowd to get it. Looking back, it was pretty easy once I turned the thing on when someone’s hands were in the mixer blades. Just think, she can clean her toilet bowl while she is preparing a cake mix. She’ll have to mix in the bathroom, but that shouldn’t be a problem.
I grab glow in the dark hearing aids for my mother. Maybe grab isn’t the right word. It was more like scooped. Some lady was trying them on, and they fell to the floor once I rammed her in the back with my cart, so I scooped them up and tossed them in with my other deals. To compliment my mother’s gift, I found a full set of LED flashing red and blue lights that attaches to the side of your bed and guides you to the bathroom in the middle of the night. No more accidents for my father.
I’m in the groove now. For my niece, I head-butted this really aggressive old lady for a Dr. Pimple Popper game with real cyst juice. I had to get two actually, because I squirted the old lady with the cyst juice from the first one.
My daughter is just going to love the combination neck massager-eyelash straightener and ear wax remover I bought her. You have to cut holes in the front of it so you can breathe, depending on your nose size, but she’s very creative that way.
And lastly, I got my husband a 5-foot tall, gold ceramic French Bulldog statue for our front porch that says, “Oui Wish You a Merry Christmas,” in red blinking lights on his collar. When you approach him, he pees in a glorious mix of color into the French bidet that came as an attachment. He really makes a statement.
I go home exhausted at the end of the day, but proud. As I left the mall, the cyst juice lady approached the door. “Oh, let me,” I said as I hold open the door. It’s how my mother raised me. Another successful seasonal shopping trip comes to an end. Ya gotta love Black Friday. Peace on Earth and Goodwill to all.
