Today, as I write this (November 28th, 2025), is Black Friday, so named because it is the day when retailers hope to turn their ledgers from red to black and retail workers hope to not black out under the crush of humanity surging through the front doors. Many retailers as of late have started their Black Friday sales on the Sunday or Wednesday before Thanksgiving, thus alleviating the need for people to immediately camp out in front of their store of choice after finishing pigging out on Thanksgiving dinner. Thankfully, more and more retailers are also divesting themselves of the need to get a jump on things by opening on Thanksgiving, thus providing more quality time not only for employees but also for shoppers to spend the holiday as it ought to transpire. For the record, arguing about politics should not be on the to-do list, tempting though it may be to hand that annoying progressive relative cash in lieu of a gift card, consisting of a $20 bill with TRUMP LIVES HERE written on the reverse.
I’ve worked in both retail and the corporate world. In that time, I’ve accumulated more than a few stories, many of which have led me to believe there may well be some truth to the idea that we are all starring in some kind of cosmic tragicomedy. Or, as comedian and youth counselor Michael Pritchard puts it, when we get to heaven, the first thing God will say to us is, “So … how’d you like My amusement park?”
Presently, as I’ve mentioned before I’m in retail, spending my hopefully few final years in the workforce before retirement gainfully employed at a sporting goods store. Odd, in that during my school days I was so unathletic that, when it’d be my turn to be a team captain picking sides for whichever PhysEd activity was on the schedule for that day, I’d be sure to select myself last in order to give my team a fighting chance. Nevertheless, here I am handing out advice on baseball equipment and the like. For the record, no, the $300 baseball glove will not materially improve your son’s fielding, and the $550 softball bat will not turn your daughter into the next Jennie Finch. But if the player believes it does and will, who am I to dispel their illusion?
Whether you plan on spending the day shopping away or staying as far away as possible from all things retail is up to you. I don’t mind if you come by my store; in fact, the more people who come and shop, the merrier it is. I’m one of those rare individuals who genuinely enjoy interacting with customers and thrive when things get busy. Yes, there are times when it’s a bit of an act. I’m not always feeling it. But I’ll give you a smile and hello anyway, because it’s my job.
I’ve said all this to set the stage for a story about a scenario that played out the day before Thanksgiving this year (2025). I was working the day shift, heading up the cashiering crew as the all-powerful front-end lead. As such, my responsibilities include facilitating maximum customer service, both through my own actions and by overseeing the cashiers under my benevolent, if occasionally strident, command.
A customer came into the store. Middle-aged, wearing the clothing of a man not unaccustomed to manual labor. Turns out he runs a landscaping business. He buttonholed one of my younger cashiers with a bit of an odd request. His work truck, loaded with the tools and implements he used to ply his trade, was parked outside. He didn’t want to leave it unattended for any length of time for obvious reasons. While the store where I work is in an outdoor mall in an upper-middle-class neighborhood, the area is not crime-free. Therefore, he asked the cashier if he could run to the back of the store, where our footwear section resides, and grab two or three pairs of shoes in his size so he could quickly pick them up while spending as little time as possible in the store away from his truck. I’ve heard stranger requests, believe me.
I inserted myself into the conversation, which had extended for quite some time, as my coworker, who is so new to the job he still squeaks, hemmed and hawed as he had no idea what to do. Being, at least on occasion, the decisive leader type who also believes in doing almost anything necessary to make a sale, knowing from whence my salary comes, I immediately told my young apprentice that it was perfectly acceptable to do what the customer had asked. For which the customer asked if he could give me a holiday hug. Fine with me. Beats usage as a societal scratching post by someone thinking more highly of themselves than they ought by a mile.
The customer and I exchanged chit-chat for a minute, he constantly glancing out the front windows at his truck, until I suggested that, since it wasn’t terribly busy at the moment, I had the time needed to go outside and stand watch over his truck so he could shop at leisure. He was quite grateful. Did I mention I’ll do almost anything to make a sale?
So, I found myself standing in the parking lot next to the customer’s truck, muttering to myself that it would have been a good day to wear a long-sleeved shirt to work, as there was a nip to the air. I noticed that on one of the truck’s side windows was a hand-drawn piece of art showing an American flag next to the slogan FAITH OVER FEAR. Never a bad thing of which to be reminded.
The customer emerged empty-handed from the store several minutes later, as he didn’t find anything that called him. One of retail’s many unwritten rules is that if at first you don’t succeed, i.e., make the sale, proceed at maximum service level anyway in the hope that the customer will, in time, return after not receiving quality customer care elsewhere. So, I continued with the small talk and reassured him that we, in general, and yours truly in particular, would be there for him should he decide to make a repeat visit. He was thankful for what I’d done.
It was at this point that things got real.
I commented on the window art and asked him if, when time permitted, he’d say a prayer for me regarding a non-work-related situation. His eyes widened. “You want to pray together? Because I have a need too.” One which utterly outweighed mine.
The restoration of his broken marriage.
And so we prayed together in the parking lot, hands joined together, with him kneeling on the asphalt, sobbing heavily as he begged God to bring him and his wife back together. Bear in mind, this was anything but a beta male. This was real, raw emotion.
I spoke calmly, reassuringly, with the serenity that only comes through faith and nothing self-generated, telling him if he needed anything, he could always come see me at the store. I spoke in faith that when, not if, he and his wife reconciled, he should bring her to the store so I could meet her and see the two of them back together. Eventually, he regained composure. We hugged again, and I went back into the store quite wrung out from an experience about which nary a word exists in any employee handbook anywhere.
Oh, my non-work-related situation? Successfully resolved Thanksgiving morning.
Hope this brings a bit of white light to your Black Friday.
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