The Tragic Decline of Black Friday: From Bloodsport to Snoozefest

There was a time (gather round, children) when Black Friday actually meant something. Back in the early 2010s, Black Friday had stakes. You could witness a full-grown adult sprint the length of a Walmart aisle like their life depended on snagging the last Keurig. You’d see alliances form and fall apart in real time.

There were battle tactics. There were casualties. It was chaos, camaraderie, and coupons, all wrapped into one glorious fever dream.

Back then, the air was thick with adrenaline and half-priced TVs. You could feel the collective thrill radiating off the crowd. It was stupid, it was dangerous, it was borderline dystopian… and somehow? It was magical.

Now, Black Friday starts in October, lasts until Christmas, and the deals are about as exciting as a soggy saltine. “30% off select items!” Oh wow, thank you so much, I can finally save $4 on a throw blanket that looks like it’s already been through a divorce.

What used to be a one-day gladiator event is now an eight-week email campaign screaming “40% OFF SITEWIDE” at me like a desperate ex who wants me to know they’ve changed.

I haven’t begged my dad to camp outside a Target in years. I haven’t witnessed a single cart-ramming incident. No stampedes. No thrill. No chaos. No woman grabbing the last $15 blender like she’s fighting for her family’s legacy. We’ve lost a cultural touchstone.

Now I’m sitting on my couch scrolling through “deals” that are literally the same price they were in July, muttering like an old man about how “kids these days don’t know real shopping.” I’ve become the retail equivalent of someone who reminisces about walking uphill both ways to school.

But maybe nostalgia is just the side effect of realizing we don’t have the energy, or the unhinged optimism, we once did. I don’t want to fight someone’s aunt over a half-priced toaster anymore, but I want to want to.

We’re too tired for 3 a.m. sprints and $400 TVs. The nostalgia isn’t just for Black Friday itself, it’s for the version of ourselves who had the energy, the recklessness, the delusion, and the disposable income to think, Yes, I absolutely need this blender and I need it right now.

Black Friday didn’t die.

We did.

At least a little bit.

And honestly? I kind of miss all the chaos.