Working in Midtown on Black Friday, Or Kill Yourself

It’s a strange, surreal thing to witness Black Friday from afar, but to witness it IRL is, well, inexplicable unless seen IRL. To have to drag your body out of its tryptophan/alcohol-induced coma mere hours after you’ve entered it on Thanksgiving is not only a cruel twist of fate, but also a testament to how much of a whore you are.

And what is the purpose for an office worker to go into an office on the day after Thanksgiving (sometimes called Hell Friday in circles of wisdom)? There isn’t one. Except to serve as a body for “coverage.” And so, once again, the man makes you feel like there might as well be a blowup doll in your chair for all you’re worth to them as a human being. But, on the plus side, at least you get to watch tourists’ looks of shock and horror as they gaze on in awe at the American lust for a sale.