Turkey Day and Consumer Chaos
Thanksgiving was a cozy and filling affair. The fam, the food, the fun-it was good times and I didn't want to leave. But alas, I work for a living. Dammit. After waking up from a turkey induced food coma, we managed to waddle out the door, leftovers in hand and drive back to the city. It was a silent ride, filled with dread. The biggest shopping day of the year was just around the corner and I had to work a double. A double on one of the busiest shopping streets in the city. "At least you don't work retail in a mall" I told myself as I fell asleep that night. Thus, I calmed my mind enough to fall into a blissful, stuffing filled sleep.
The blissful rest was over at 8am sharp. The alarm pierced the silence and the day was upon me. I looked out the window: rain. "maybe that will deter some of the shoppers" I thought ignorantly. Not so. This is Oregon after all and when has rain EVER deterred anyone from anything? My hopeful thoughts were shattered as the bus pulled up to my stop. It was jam packed full, and the majority of people inside were holding shopping bags. "We got up at 4 AM!!!" a pleasantly plump woman shrieked to the bus driver. "Thats when ye get the best DEALS!!" Her voice had reached a kind of frenzied falsetto I think can only be achieved when there is panic involved. Adrenaline fueled panic brought on by the consumer chaos of: The Day After Thanksgiving. "We just came from WALMART!!" she squeaked at a decibel level too loud for 9 am. The last word of every sentence was louder and more enunciated than the rest. "Now we's headed down thar to MEYER 'N' FRAAANK!! The good sales stop goin' in about an HOUR!!" She checked her watch, and I swear I saw a bead of sweat appear as she assessed her allotted time. The woman had Gresham written all over her. It was her annual trip to the city and by God she was gonna make the most of it. Her squawking went on all the way to downtown, as she filled the bus driver in on every sale in every store. His bleary eyes stayed on the road and he never once responded to the hectic pace of the woman's verbal frenzy. I saw relief cross his face as she franticly exited the bus, shopping bags in hand and made a B-line to Meyer and Frank.
Downtown was chaos. I had to race through a parade that was marching through the streets in order to catch my next bus. Crazy eyed women with bag upon bag of merchandise rushed up and down the streets yelling at their frightened looking husbands and children(some on leashes, I kid you not) to "follow me!" and "hurry up!" I barely caught my connecting bus in time due to the closed off streets and a homeless man insistent on telling me the "True meaning of muthu fuckin CRISSSMUS!!" He cornered me by the bus stop at 5th and Washington. He saw my bag that I had my work clothes in and assumed that I was one of the "evil shoppers". "Look at ALL Y'ALLl!" he grimaced, the stink of whiskey on his breath. "You think that CRISSMUS is about yo' mothu fuckin TRINKETS!?!? And yo' mothu fuckin GUCCI?!?!?" This was a testament to how drunk he was, because although the people around him all had shopping bags of some sort-we were all obviously working class. We were riding Tri-met after all, while the Gucci clad Portlanders had no doubt had their classy cars parked somewhere by valets. Not caring or noticing this point-the drunk man continued. "CRISSSSSSMUSSSSSSS" he began, in fire and brimstone-preacher like flare- "is about JEEEEESSSSSUUSSSSS !!!!" He looked deep into my eyes to see if I knew about the man of which he spoke. I tried to walk away, but he was having none of it. " I said JEEEESSUSS mothu fucka!!!!!" he yelled. " You think JEEEESUS wants his BIRFDAY clouded by yo GREED?!?! DO YA?!?!" I shook my head and rolled my eyes and wondered why I am such a freak magnet. "Then you kneel down right here and PRAY!!!! He screamed. " I said PRAY for your SOUL motha fucka!! Becuz the TRUE meanin of CRISSMUS is about--" Before he could say "Jeeeeesssuss" one more time I ran toward the approaching bus with gusto and hopped on! The drunk, potty mouthed, but nonetheless pious man was looking around dazedly and no doubt trying to find someone else to yell at. I looked at my watch. I had 8 minutes to get to work.
I arrived at work without a minute to spare. I set up the dining room and we opened for business. There was no slow start. It was immediate. At 11:30 the hardcores had been up for 7 hours already and were ravenous for pizza. Hell, it was practically dinner time for them. The soccer moms and desperate housewives(the normal clientele in those parts) barged in with their hypoglycemic children with only minutes to spare. When they were informed about the fact that we don't have slices-their eyes glazed over with rage. "What do you MEAN no slices?!?!" they screamed. "Pottery Barn's morning sale is only on for another 15 MINUTES and Susie needs food NOW!!!"
Oddly enough, it was the parents who were acting more like children that day. The bleary eyed children were quiet, defeated and tired. They wanted nothing more than to sit and eat and color. They were not so lucky. When the mothers were faced with the choice of feeding their children or saving a few bucks at a sale, the sale prevailed. Digging savagely into her purse, one mother pulled out a demolished looking Power Bar and shoved it in her child's face. The child grimaced in fear. "EAT IT!!" We've GOT to get to Restoration Hardware NOW!!!" And so it went all day long. I looked sympathetically out the window as tired children hobbled after their manic, sale driven parents.
My illusions of making crazy amounts of money were quickly shattered after I got my first tip. It was all of 8 percent. Then it all came back to me: Holidays= CHEAP. No money for your friendly, neighborhood waitress. No sir. Its all goin' to GAP, Urban Outfitters and Cost Plus. I walked away from a double shift with less than 15 percent in tips. I put my tired feet up on the bus seats as I rode home from a long day. The crowds had dispersed by then and there were only shell shocked looking women with rain soaked shopping bags, and exhausted, haggard looking retail workers on their way home. I once again reminded myself how lucky I was NOT to be working in retail on such a day.
The only thing I bought on the biggest shopping day of the year was a beer. A frothy, satisfying brewskie. I had earned it. Perhaps not as much as a shoe salesmen at Nordstrom or the opening clerk at Walmart-but I toasted to them and drank heartily. I could end this blog with political commentary about how disgusting and consumeristic our society has become. I could make analogies to the desperate shoppers and rabid dogs. I could name the evils of corporations and their advertising and how we are all just slaves to what the TV tells us to do. But I will bypass all of that and try to say something positive about a tradition that disgusts me: At least it makes for good writing material.
Until next time-I'll leave you with these words of advice: If possible, stock up, rent movies and stay INSIDE on the day after Thanksgiving . No sale is worth it.
The blissful rest was over at 8am sharp. The alarm pierced the silence and the day was upon me. I looked out the window: rain. "maybe that will deter some of the shoppers" I thought ignorantly. Not so. This is Oregon after all and when has rain EVER deterred anyone from anything? My hopeful thoughts were shattered as the bus pulled up to my stop. It was jam packed full, and the majority of people inside were holding shopping bags. "We got up at 4 AM!!!" a pleasantly plump woman shrieked to the bus driver. "Thats when ye get the best DEALS!!" Her voice had reached a kind of frenzied falsetto I think can only be achieved when there is panic involved. Adrenaline fueled panic brought on by the consumer chaos of: The Day After Thanksgiving. "We just came from WALMART!!" she squeaked at a decibel level too loud for 9 am. The last word of every sentence was louder and more enunciated than the rest. "Now we's headed down thar to MEYER 'N' FRAAANK!! The good sales stop goin' in about an HOUR!!" She checked her watch, and I swear I saw a bead of sweat appear as she assessed her allotted time. The woman had Gresham written all over her. It was her annual trip to the city and by God she was gonna make the most of it. Her squawking went on all the way to downtown, as she filled the bus driver in on every sale in every store. His bleary eyes stayed on the road and he never once responded to the hectic pace of the woman's verbal frenzy. I saw relief cross his face as she franticly exited the bus, shopping bags in hand and made a B-line to Meyer and Frank.
Downtown was chaos. I had to race through a parade that was marching through the streets in order to catch my next bus. Crazy eyed women with bag upon bag of merchandise rushed up and down the streets yelling at their frightened looking husbands and children(some on leashes, I kid you not) to "follow me!" and "hurry up!" I barely caught my connecting bus in time due to the closed off streets and a homeless man insistent on telling me the "True meaning of muthu fuckin CRISSSMUS!!" He cornered me by the bus stop at 5th and Washington. He saw my bag that I had my work clothes in and assumed that I was one of the "evil shoppers". "Look at ALL Y'ALLl!" he grimaced, the stink of whiskey on his breath. "You think that CRISSMUS is about yo' mothu fuckin TRINKETS!?!? And yo' mothu fuckin GUCCI?!?!?" This was a testament to how drunk he was, because although the people around him all had shopping bags of some sort-we were all obviously working class. We were riding Tri-met after all, while the Gucci clad Portlanders had no doubt had their classy cars parked somewhere by valets. Not caring or noticing this point-the drunk man continued. "CRISSSSSSMUSSSSSSS" he began, in fire and brimstone-preacher like flare- "is about JEEEEESSSSSUUSSSSS !!!!" He looked deep into my eyes to see if I knew about the man of which he spoke. I tried to walk away, but he was having none of it. " I said JEEEESSUSS mothu fucka!!!!!" he yelled. " You think JEEEESUS wants his BIRFDAY clouded by yo GREED?!?! DO YA?!?!" I shook my head and rolled my eyes and wondered why I am such a freak magnet. "Then you kneel down right here and PRAY!!!! He screamed. " I said PRAY for your SOUL motha fucka!! Becuz the TRUE meanin of CRISSMUS is about--" Before he could say "Jeeeeesssuss" one more time I ran toward the approaching bus with gusto and hopped on! The drunk, potty mouthed, but nonetheless pious man was looking around dazedly and no doubt trying to find someone else to yell at. I looked at my watch. I had 8 minutes to get to work.
I arrived at work without a minute to spare. I set up the dining room and we opened for business. There was no slow start. It was immediate. At 11:30 the hardcores had been up for 7 hours already and were ravenous for pizza. Hell, it was practically dinner time for them. The soccer moms and desperate housewives(the normal clientele in those parts) barged in with their hypoglycemic children with only minutes to spare. When they were informed about the fact that we don't have slices-their eyes glazed over with rage. "What do you MEAN no slices?!?!" they screamed. "Pottery Barn's morning sale is only on for another 15 MINUTES and Susie needs food NOW!!!"
Oddly enough, it was the parents who were acting more like children that day. The bleary eyed children were quiet, defeated and tired. They wanted nothing more than to sit and eat and color. They were not so lucky. When the mothers were faced with the choice of feeding their children or saving a few bucks at a sale, the sale prevailed. Digging savagely into her purse, one mother pulled out a demolished looking Power Bar and shoved it in her child's face. The child grimaced in fear. "EAT IT!!" We've GOT to get to Restoration Hardware NOW!!!" And so it went all day long. I looked sympathetically out the window as tired children hobbled after their manic, sale driven parents.
My illusions of making crazy amounts of money were quickly shattered after I got my first tip. It was all of 8 percent. Then it all came back to me: Holidays= CHEAP. No money for your friendly, neighborhood waitress. No sir. Its all goin' to GAP, Urban Outfitters and Cost Plus. I walked away from a double shift with less than 15 percent in tips. I put my tired feet up on the bus seats as I rode home from a long day. The crowds had dispersed by then and there were only shell shocked looking women with rain soaked shopping bags, and exhausted, haggard looking retail workers on their way home. I once again reminded myself how lucky I was NOT to be working in retail on such a day.
The only thing I bought on the biggest shopping day of the year was a beer. A frothy, satisfying brewskie. I had earned it. Perhaps not as much as a shoe salesmen at Nordstrom or the opening clerk at Walmart-but I toasted to them and drank heartily. I could end this blog with political commentary about how disgusting and consumeristic our society has become. I could make analogies to the desperate shoppers and rabid dogs. I could name the evils of corporations and their advertising and how we are all just slaves to what the TV tells us to do. But I will bypass all of that and try to say something positive about a tradition that disgusts me: At least it makes for good writing material.
Until next time-I'll leave you with these words of advice: If possible, stock up, rent movies and stay INSIDE on the day after Thanksgiving . No sale is worth it.
posted by Selené Emrys at 3:34 PM
1 Comments:
What a poignant entry! Hilarious, but sadly true. I especially appreciated the description of the kids who get drug along in the madness. I'll also bet that a good number of those people put their purchases on a credit card and pay interest, maybe even late fees! So much for saving money. Thanks for your litereate amd entertaining observations.
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