Black Friday Madness: Why I Finally Stopped Showing Up in Person

I’ve written before about the way people storm department stores on Black Friday like they’re chasing the last lifeboat off a sinking ship. Every year, without fail, you see the same thing: an ocean of cars circling parking lots like sharks, lines wrapping around buildings at ungodly hours, and crowds rushing through doors as if a mythical 99% discount on everything is waiting inside. And I’ll be honest—I wasn’t always a spectator. I participated in this madness a few times. My wife and her friends loved the excitement of hunting for “deals,” and I’d tag along thinking it was all part of the holiday experience.

But over the last couple of years, something changed. Maybe I got older. Maybe I got wiser. Or maybe I just got tired of spending half my night trying to find a parking spot. Whatever the reason, I made a decision: I’m done with in-person Black Friday shopping.

And honestly? I haven’t missed it for a second.

The Parking Nightmare That Never Ends

Let’s start with the worst part of the whole thing: parking. If there’s a universal truth in life, it’s that Black Friday turns every shopping center parking lot into a chaotic battlefield. You’re not just looking for an open space—you’re competing. People follow random shoppers to their cars like private investigators, hoping they’ll pull out soon. Some drivers wait with their blinkers on for spots that clearly won’t open for another 10 minutes. Others cut in aggressively, pretending they “didn’t see you.”

One year in particular stands out. My wife, her friends, and I pulled into a premium outlet around 12 pm to find out there was absolutely no parking. It looked like every person within a 5-mile radius had the exact same idea. Cars were inching their way into the parking lot hoping to find a spot. I ended up dropping off my wife and her friends to look for a space, but after about an hour I wasn’t able to find one, so I decided to drive home. I tried to go back around 3 pm to meet up with my wife, but again wasn’t able to find a spot as most cars in the parking lot were just inching their way through traffic. At one point, it felt like I was spending more time searching for parking than actually shopping.

It was around this moment—when I realized we were essentially vultures circling for an empty spot—that I asked myself: Why am I doing this?

The “Deals” That Aren’t Really Deals

Let’s be real for a second: Black Friday deals aren’t always deals.

Sure, they’re advertised as jaw-dropping, one-day-only, once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. But stores aren’t dumb. They know exactly what they’re doing. They mark things up long before the holidays so they can mark them down dramatically on Black Friday. They throw a red tag on a price and everyone assumes it must be special.

And I fell for it too.

One year, we bought a bunch of items because we thought the prices would jump back up the next day. You know, classic Black Friday logic: “It’s now or never!” “This deal won’t last!” “It’s basically free!” So we loaded up the trunk with bags and felt like we’d done something smart.

The next day—yes, the very next day—we happened to go back to the same outlet because my wife and her friends weren’t done shopping. (That’s a whole different story.) And guess what?

Every single price was exactly the same.

Not “similar.” Not “slightly higher.” They were the exact same deals. Same price tags. Same promotions. Same discounts.

I just stood there thinking, Are you kidding me? We stayed out late, dealt with the crowds, fought for parking, and thought we were beating the system—only to realize there was nothing to beat.

That was the beginning of the end for me.

Online Deals: The Great Equalizer

The beauty of modern shopping is that almost everything is online now. And the truth is, by the time Black Friday rolls around, the “early access” sales have already started. You don’t need to be in a store physically to get 50% off something. Companies run sales for a week, sometimes two. Cyber Monday has evolved into Cyber Week. And often, the online versions of deals are exactly the same—if not better—than what’s in stores.

No crowds.
No pushing.
No passive-aggressive parking lot stand-offs.
No waiting in line for 40 minutes while someone argues about price matching.

Just you, a comfortable seat at home, a warm drink, a laptop, and the “Add to Cart” button.

Once I experienced how peaceful online shopping is, I couldn’t go back.

Does Black Friday Ever Lose Its Magic?

That’s what I keep asking myself. Doesn’t the hype ever fade?

We’ve seen fads come and go. Remember Beanie Babies? People lined up for those too. They were supposed to be collectibles that would skyrocket in value. Now you can find tubs of them at garage sales for a dollar each.

Or Tamagotchis—those digital pets kids thought they needed to keep alive. At the time, people thought they were the next big thing forever. Now they’re nostalgic relics.

Trends fade. Hype dies. People move on.

But Black Friday?
Somehow it refuses to die.

Every year, like clockwork, the same wave of excitement pulls people back. It’s like a holiday tradition built on the belief that something amazing might be waiting in store this time. Maybe a TV will be cheaper. Maybe a jacket will be 70% off. Maybe a kitchen appliance will be practically free.

It doesn’t matter how many years pass or how many times people walk away disappointed—millions still show up believing this will be the year they get the best deal ever.

The Psychology Behind The Madness

Black Friday isn’t really about saving money. It’s about the idea of saving money. It’s about the rush you get when you think you’ve snagged something valuable before anyone else. Stores know this. That’s why they hype everything up with phrases like:

• “Doorbusters!”
• “Limited quantity!”
• “One day only!”
• “Don’t miss out!”

The fear of missing out is powerful. Even people who don’t need anything suddenly feel a strange urge to buy something because it seems like everyone else is buying something.

It’s less about shopping and more about participating in an event—almost like joining a ritual.

But here’s the truth: you’re not actually missing out on anything. At least, not anything that won’t appear online later. The concept of “exclusive in-store deals” is fading because retailers realize it’s easier and cheaper to run the same sale everywhere.

The Shift To Sanity

Maybe this is what growing up feels like—realizing that convenience and peace of mind are worth more than the thrill of standing in a crowd at midnight for a sweater that’ll be on sale again next week.

When I talk to people about Black Friday now, I notice a pattern. A lot of them still go “for the fun.” They like the atmosphere. They enjoy the chaos. They thrive in the busy, buzzing environment of bargain hunters.

Me? Not so much. I’ve learned that my version of fun is having a quiet weekend, eating leftovers from Thanksgiving, and browsing deals online without stepping foot outside.

And honestly, it feels great.

Looking Back on the Madness

When I think about the years I did go Black Friday shopping, I remember the exhaustion more than the deals. I remember dragging bags around while my wife and her friends debated whether a purse was worth an extra 10% off. I remember security guards yelling at people to stop running. I remember seeing random items abandoned all over the floor when people changed their minds.

But mostly, I remember realizing that none of it was worth the hassle.

Why were we out at 1 a.m. fighting crowds for deals that would still be there at noon? Why were we treating shopping like a competitive sport? Why did so many of us believe the marketing without question?

I don’t know. Maybe it was tradition. Maybe it was habit. Or maybe we just assumed everyone else knew something we didn’t.

But now that I’ve broken out of the cycle, I see it clearly: Black Friday isn’t magic. It’s marketing. And the “once-a-year deals” aren’t mythical—they’re predictable.

What I Do Now Instead

Now, my shopping strategy is simple:

• I buy online.
• I compare prices.
• I enjoy my holiday weekend without stepping into a mall.

And the best part?
No stress. No pushing. No parking nightmares. No returning the next day to find out nothing changed.

I get the same deals without the chaos.

Will I Ever Go Back?

Probably not. Unless teleportation becomes a thing or malls suddenly redesign their parking lots with Black Friday-level capacity. Until then, I’ll stay home and let the crowds do what they do.

Black Friday will continue being Black Friday. The crowds will show up. The lines will form. The hype will return every year like clockwork. And I’ll be perfectly content watching it all from a safe distance—with my laptop open, checking out online discounts without moving a single inch.