Published: November 22, 2008 07:42 pm         

Brace yourself for mall madness

Before the end of conspicuous consumption (AKA pre-2008), the day after Thanksgiving meant a shopping extravaganza for my family.

We’d examine and compare the newspaper ads right after dinner. We’d strategize our trip to the mall so we could take advantage of as many special offers as possible.

Each year, the stores added more hours to the shopping day. Certain sale prices and discount coupons were available only before sun up.

That next morning, we’d wait in long lines in the dark with other bargain hunters until the doors opened. It was always cold. Then there was the mad dash, the likes of which I’d seen before during the Cabbage Patch craze, into the warmth and frenzy of the stores.

I wonder if these tales of shoppers gone wild will sound unbelievable to my own descendants, like those endless walks to school in the rain and snow sounded to me.

It was a breakthrough for me to participate in this holiday ritual from the customers’ side of the cash register. The 10 years that I worked in retailing traumatized me for about a decade after I left it.

The memory-makers started weeks before the biggest shopping day of the year. Corporate bigwigs instructed managers like me what items we were to feature and promote (AKA shove down the throats of customers). Out in the trenches (AKA the malls), we already had the merchandise and knew shoppers weren’t particularly interested in it. Our mission was to recoup the investment caused by buyers’ mistakes.

The day before Thanksgiving, we’d set the store, which meant we put the items we wanted to fly out the door in strategic locations, AKA where customers would walk into those racks.

Who didn’t need a sleeveless, red and green tweed turtleneck? Sometimes, I’d buy whatever the item was and wear it that Friday, the holiest day on a retailer’s calendar.

I plastered the sales goal for the day after Thanksgiving on every inconspicuous-to-the- customer spot that I could find. That number came from corporate, too, and had something to do with last year’s sales — like tripling them.

As the designated hour of opening approached, I’d gather the troops together like a general leading an army into combat. My cheerleading training came in handy — I’d yell and they’d cheer. I’d walk to the front doors where a crowd of shoppers already waited. I’d unlock the doors with a flourish. I’d greet a customer or two before I was shoved out of the way.

Then I’d prowl the sales floor, looking for bare racks that needed filling, gift boxes that needed replenishing, empty-handed customers who needed some TLC and shoplifters who needed a trip to the security office.

It was a 12-hour day, just the first of many between then and the New Year. Perhaps you can understand why once I left retailing, I suffered from a form of post-traumatic stress disorder. I stayed out of stores on the day after Thanksgiving for almost a decade.

But once my children were old enough to feel the inevitable pull of the mall, I decided my PTSD had lasted long enough.

Off we went, and continued to go, until a few years ago. The three of us decided getting up and out that early wasn’t worth it. We still shopped, but at a more leisurely pace.

Sale signs have been up for weeks this year. Even deeper discounts will no doubt be offered the day after Thanksgiving. Although I dropped the fashionista part of my persona years ago, I remain a bargainista at heart.

The question is how many will show up at the mall, not just here but across the country? If my daughters agree, I think we may be among them.

Maybe if we all do the same, we’ll have a local place to shop next year.

I’ll look for you at the mall.

A CHANGE

At press time, I was informed that beginning Dec. 7 my column no longer will occupy this spot. It may appear elsewhere in the paper. Other changes will take place that day, as well.

Reach Barbara Greenberg at bgreenberg@dancomnews.com.