Black Friday – Life In A Word

Recycled Airbags

As I build the beginnings of this week’s blog post (three “b”s already for those keeping count) my screen distracts me with alerts for Cyber Monday deals. Laptops at 30% off retail. E-readers at 25% off. DNA tests at 70% off (which begs the question: do we really care about our ancestry anymore?) Cyber Monday is a sort of second chance for those who shunned the big box stores the Friday after Thanksgiving (good decision). But here’s what I wonder today. Why endure Black Friday or get distracted by Cyber Monday when you can shop through lost luggage any day of the year instead?

I’ve finally found a reason to visit Alabama. A six-hour drive due west of my keyboard puts me in the little town of Scottsboro, of which an entire block is consumed by a business known as Unclaimed Baggage. UB is exactly what you think it is: deep-discounted personal belongings made available to you by the traveling misfortunes of others. Think of UB as one person’s trash becoming another person’s treasure only, of course, the original owner had no intention of throwing it away.

Unclaimed Baggage is the kind of entrepreneurial enterprise I wish I’d thought up myself. Consider the end-to-end process. You and your luggage start at Point A, but sadly one of you doesn’t make it to Point B. The airline (or the bus or the train) spends several months trying to reunite the two of you. Failing that, they compensate for the loss (sometimes). But what of your bag if it turns up later? Dump it into a “Dead Luggage” office? Actually, yes, and then Unclaimed Baggage comes a-calling.

Here’s an encouraging stat: 99.5% of lost luggage is reunited with its owner. You wouldn’t think Unclaimed Baggage could make a business of the leftovers. But those leftover are, on average, 7,000 items every day. No wonder Unclaimed Baggage needs a city block to house all that it sells. And the best part of the business? UB never knows what it’s going to get because the airlines don’t (or aren’t allowed to) open the bags. It reminds me of the show where bidders vie for contents of storage lockers without being able to raise the roll-up doors beforehand.

The most expensive item UB ever sold was a Rolex watch for $32,000 (50% of retail). Visit the store today and you can purchase a diamond ring for $20,000 that surely appraises for more. Some items are so strange they’re relegated to an area known as the “Museum Gallery”. Wigs. Shark teeth. A funeral casket key (?) Items considered “unsaleable”, and items where you have to wonder why they were on an airplane in the first place.

When I first learned about Unclaimed Baggage I thought, they have something of mine and I want it back! No, I’ve never lost luggage. Rather, I’m the passenger who keeps forgetting the little things in the seat back pocket right in front of him. Reading glasses. E-readers. A rather expensive pair of noise-cancelling headphones. Somehow my stuff gets left behind despite the pointed announcement from the flight attendant: “Please check in and around your seat for personal belongings, as you will not be allowed back on the aircraft after you deplane.” Sigh…

Unclaimed Baggage has at least one example of an item unintentionally returned to its original owner. At UB’s annual ski sale (which earned an LOL from me; I mean, just how many skis are left at baggage claim?), a shopper purchased ski boots for his girlfriend. When he brought them home, she discovered initials on the inside of the boots – hers. The airline had already compensated her for the lost boots so effectively, she re-owns her boots at a deep discount.

As you might expect, a good percentage of shoppers at Unclaimed Baggage are the same ones who troll garage sales and eBay for items they have no intention of owning. They simply relist their wares online for purchase (and profit) from others. It’s another enterprising way to make a buck but it’s not my cup of tea. I’m the shopper who shows up at sales well after the best items have been picked over.

Unclaimed Baggage has cornered a lucrative market. I don’t think they have any competition for the business of repurposing lost luggage. I will say this: I’m less likely to leave my stuff on airplanes now that I know about UB. I mean, do I really want some stranger buying my stuff for way less than I paid for it myself?

Final thought for the day. Why don’t they call it Unclaimed Luggage? Baggage? Luggage? Bag? Lug? Who the heck added two words into the English language when we only needed one? The Oxford English Dictionary estimates we use 170,000 words these days. I’m here to say that’s one too many.

Some content sourced from the CNN Travel article, “US travelers lose millions of suitcases every year…”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

The Original “Black Friday”

The first two weeks of November were jammed with “un-often” events this year. For starters the bright light of Halloween’s blue moon spilled into the wee hours of November 1st. During those same wee hours most of us lost Daylight Savings Time. The very next day (Monday) marked the official arrival of Hurricane Eta to our shores. The day after that we voted in a presidential election. A week later we staged the Masters golf tournament (it’s supposed to be in April, people). Then we had another hurricane (Iota), the first time we’ve had two in November. Finally, we spiked positive COVID-19 tests in record numbers after months of declines.

That’s a pile of rarities in a short amount of time. So why not add one more to the heap? Friday the 13th. I missed it completely. Maybe you missed it too (and you’d be forgiven with all those other distractions). Last Friday – the 13th – came and went without an ounce of bad luck to blog about. Ironically, the only story I can share brought good luck. I placed a carry-out dinner order last Thursday night and the restaurant gave me someone else’s food. When I went back for the right order they told me to keep both. As a result my Friday the 13th dinner was unexpectedly “on the house”.

Are you superstitious? I’m not – not in the least. I have no problems with sidewalk cracks, leaning ladders, or black cats. I don’t lose sleep anticipating the third occurrence of a bad thing. I gladly pick up a penny (it’s free money after all) but with no expectations of luck. I’ve broken mirrors (deliberately, in remodel projects) and wishbones (on a whim, in turkeys). I’ve even knocked on lots of wood (mostly doors) but hey, my life goes on as usual.

As for Friday the 13th’s “un-luck”, its long-ago origins are suspiciously weak. The most common comes from the story of Jesus in the Bible: thirteen individuals at the Last Supper (Thursday) followed by Jesus’ foretold crucifixion the following day. Other theories point to fighting gods in mythology and fighting knights in the Middle Ages. None of these carry water in my book. Seriously, how did misfortune come to be associated with the collision of a particular day and date?

I read up on calendar averages, thinking the 13th falling on a Friday was as uncommon as a blue moon. Maybe the 13th favors the other days of the week instead? Nope, try the reverse. Over a significant number of years the 13th falls on Friday more than Saturday, Sunday, or any other day of the week.

To add a helping of confusion, look no further than Spain or Greece. These countries have an irrational fear of Tuesday the 13th. Italy? Friday the 17th. Imagine watching America’s famous horror movie franchise in any of these places and wondering, “so… why do they call it ‘Friday the 13th'”?

No matter my efforts to undermine this superstition, the effects are real. Over 17 million Americans admit to a dread of Friday the 13th. Some avoid airplane travel and others won’t even get out of bed. Buildings remove the thirteenth floor from the stack (which is a lot of demolition for a superstition, isn’t it?) Elevators conspicuously delete the “13” button. Numbered seats in stadiums go 10, 11, 12… 14, 15, 16.

For some of you, Black Friday means bargains. For others, Black Friday means “13”. If nothing else, I’ll give you a couple of words to describe the circumstance of the latter’s irrational fear. If you’re afraid of the number 13 you have triskaidekaphobia. If you’re afraid of just Friday the 13th you have paraskevidekatriaphobia. (Me, I only have acrophobia. At least your phobias sound more sophisticated.)

Fact check. This post was published close to the midpoint between Black Friday (the 13th) and Black Friday (the retail binge). Okay-y-y-y. This post also contains exactly 666 words. WHOO boy.

Let me repeat… I am NOT superstitious.

Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

A Distant Third (cont.)

Last Tuesday in cycle class, pedaling through the five-minute recovery after an hour of torture, our instructor asked if we’d like a Christmas carol or two from her playlist. The one rider with enough oxygen lashed out vehemently, “NO! It’s too early!” Well how about that; score a point for Thanksgiving. The sun set on Halloween two weeks ago and mighty Christmas is already trying to muscle its way to the forefront. But Thanksgiving has a thing or two to say first. If you please, keep the sugar plums out of my turkey and stuffing.

In last week’s post, I compared popular aspects of Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas (i.e. history, music, food). The final tally: Christmas the clear winner – no surprise – with Halloween solidly in second. But lest we relegate Thanksgiving to the bronze medal year after year, my blog-intent is to reinvigorate America’s late-November holiday, and remind readers why Turkey Day stands on its own merits.

On that note, we’re starting November with promise. My wife is getting endless mailbox catalogs, and I was delighted to find Williams-Sonoma’s “Thanksgiving Headquarters” edition: 180 pages of food, linens, kitchenware, and decor specifically designed for the holidays. They even photo-profiled a barn-based “Friendsgiving” celebration in upstate New York. Granted, the Thanksgiving section of the catalog ended on p.67, meaning the remaining 100 pages were all about Christmas. No matter – 67 pages of Thanksgiving is impressive. Way to go, Williams-Sonoma.

Starbucks also made a statement – albeit more feeble – putting their unique spin on Thanksgiving. Right now, you can drive-thru and order a Turkey & Stuffing Panini (with cranberries and gravy!), perfectly nicknamed “a handheld turkey dinner”. Then pair your panini with a Chestnut Praline Latte (“flavors of caramelized chestnuts and spices, topped with whipped cream and spiced praline crumbs”). That combo speaks more to November than December in my book. Not bad, Starbucks.

Retail aside, Thanksgiving plays out as more of an extended weekend than a single day. Consider the before/after events. Wednesday (“Thanksgiving Eve”) is routinely labeled “the single busiest travel day of the year”. Well guess what? It’s not. Thanksgiving Day is the busiest travel day of the year, considering 90% of us drive our cars to the family gathering that morning. Thanksgiving Wednesday (and Thanksgiving Sunday) only seem busiest because the chaos at the airports gets so much attention.

Now, on Turkey Day itself, besides the meal and the backyard football, we begin with the “Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade”. My family always seems to miss the broadcast because we’re so busy in the kitchen. Macy’s is three hours of marching bands, dancing Rockettes, Broadway singers, flying character balloons, and – as far as I can tell – one nod to Thanksgiving (the massive turkey in the photo above). But hang on ’til the very end of the broadcast, because… here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus, wrapping up the parade the same way he’s done every year since 1924. It’s like the Williams-Sonoma catalog – Thanksgiving on the outside but more “holiday season” in disguise.

Thanksgiving Friday is “Black”, of course – the so-called beginning of the Christmas shopping season. We Americans spend over $50 billion that day (putting retailers “back in the black” with profits – hence the name). It’s safe to say this bonanza of spending isn’t going away anytime soon. By its very nature, Black Friday extinguishes Thanksgiving – almost before the pumpkin pie is served. Black Friday sales begin as early as 5pm on Thursday evening (making the name obsolete, don’t you think?) And if Thanksgiving isn’t early enough for you, some stores begin sales a week before Black Friday, with the teaser, “avoid the chaos of Black Friday – shop now!” Uh, what’s the real meaning of Christmas again?

So there you have it – Christmas putting the squeeze on Thanksgiving like the Grinch on Whoville. Santa concludes the Macy’s parade at 12:00pm ET. Christmas shopping begins five hours later. In between, throw a meal on the table, mumble a blessing, and don’t forget to say thanks. If we’re not careful, Thanksgiving Day will be reduced to Thanksgiving Hour. It’s a phenomenon known as “holiday compression depression” (okay, I just made that up), but hey; it’s happened before. In 1971, George and Abe got their standalone birthday celebrations mashed into a single holiday. Even they feel Thanksgiving’s pain.

Wait For It

Let’s wager a guess over something that happened to you in the past few days. It probably happened several times in the past few days. It wasn’t by choice, nor were you alone. It might even be happening right now. What is this recurring, oft-maddening event in your daily world (and mine)? Somewhere, for some good reason, in person or in the car, deliberately or unintentionally, you found yourself waiting in line.

Call it a common courtesy or call it the primary by-product of consumer demand. Waiting in line is a timeless (or time-wasting) necessary evil with no satisfactory alternative. While the world behaves efficiently with smartphones, computers and even data-consuming “IoT” appliances, those snaking, switch-backing, several-option, several-category lines of humans seem to grow ever longer. Including traffic on the highways – another version of waiting – you’ll spend one to two years of your life in line.

Consider some of the common reasons why we wait in line:
– store cashiers
– airport security
– phone calls (on hold)
– amusement parks
– voting
– public restrooms

If I wrote this post fifty years ago, I would’ve listed the very same reasons why we wait in line. We have options now, but let’s face it; those options are waiting-in-line in disguise. Store cashiers now work side-by-side with an area of self-check-out machines (which draws its own line). Airports promote pay-for lines like TSA Pre and CLEAR. Telephone on-hold mechanisms offer callbacks instead of waiting (“for an additional $0.75”). Disneyland installed “FastPass” lines; again, for a fee. Voting can be done by mail (forcing your ballot to wait in line instead of you). And public restrooms? Okay, there’s no option to waiting for the potty. Maybe reconsider that second beer.

The Brits refer to a line of people as a queue. I like that (and not just because we need more words beginning with the letter “q”). Leave it to those on the far side of the pond to class up the most mundane activity imaginable. At least we have our phones as distractions when we “queue”. But the old-fashioned distractions still work. It’s why they put candy bars by the cashiers, magazines in the waiting room, mirrors by the elevators, and televisions in the airport. Anything to help you forget you’re waiting in line.

You’d think waiting in line is mindless – no-brainer science really – but I have experienced flaws in the system. Recently in Lowe’s, waiting patiently in a single, central line at the self-check-out area, I was confronted by the person behind me, who demanded I “choose one side or the other” (as if logic demanded a separate line for each row of self-check-out machines). My response to him was not one of my finer moments. Another example – at the airport – my wife and I waited at the curb with a dozen others for the parking lot shuttle, only to discover the “front of the line” was a variable determined by the point on the curb where the driver chooses to stop his vehicle. If you want to see what not waiting in line looks like, try to catch a parking lot shuttle at the airport.

In today’s world, we have new reasons why we wait in line:
– to purchase the latest iPhone
– at restaurants, with pagers (clever disguise for waiting in line)
– on-line (i.e. for concert tickets or sports tickets at a specified time)
– Black Friday sales

Finally, we will always stand in line for our kids, whether to see Santa Claus at the mall or to buy something they simply must have. Years ago, I remember taking my kids to the local bookstore for the latest “Harry Potter” (which they started and finished before the next sunrise). It was the only time I’ve stood in line for the right to stand in line again. The bookstore insisted on selling a limited number of tickets at noon, to be exchanged for the book later that same day, when the publisher allowed its release.

I believe the longest I’ve ever waited in line is five hours – to see the first Star Wars movie in 1977. With no electronic devices to keep my friends and I company back then, five hours was even longer than it sounds, especially knowing two consecutive showings of the movie would run before I even entered the theater. Then again, the truly morbid among us believe we are all simply waiting to die. If that’s the case, let’s hope we’re in a really, really long line.