A poem about the madness and mass hysteria on Black Friday - Thanksgiving.
|The Dreaded Black Friday
Being none the wiser as to special shopping deals,
I strolled along the mall, glancing in shop windows.
When, to my horror, I was bustled into a long queue
The sidewalk, crowded with people who would kill
To get inside a shop offering incredible discounts.
Dumbstruck, I tried to battle my way out of the queue
But to no avail, eventually I was shoved into the shop.
Fairly soon I could hardly breath, squeezed to the hilt,
I ducked into an office, apologizing to the staff as
The manager guffawed and wrung his hands in glee.
“Hey man, this is thanksgiving; shop and be merry,
Great Black Friday bargains, especially for you”.
I said, “You don’t know me from a bar of soap,
There’s nothing here for me that’s special”.
I collapsed into an office chair at his desk.
On the desk was a profitability budget report,
And able to read upside down, I read the report
Showing great bulk purchase deals made.
The lowest profit margin of all bargain offers
Was thirty percent, but many were forty-five.
“Mr. Manager, to whom do you give thanks
And for what are you thankful, if at all?”
“The shoppers are crazy to get what they can
And oblivious to your dishonest dealings,
Give thanks to them for your ill-gotten gain”.
Humanity loves the throng, the madness,
Mass hysteria grips the streets and shops.
It’s an obsession, a pure addiction, of note,
Spurred by the mass media of all kind.
I thanked God that day that I got out
Without having spent even one cent.