The Friday after Thanksgiving is typically the busiest shopping day of the year.
It has picked up the moniker, "Black Friday," as it is the day that many retailers, who operate in the financial red for 10 months, finally become profitable, or get into the black.
My legal assistant looks forward to Black Friday the way a 5-year-old looks forward to Christmas.
As a man, I apparently am genetically unable to understand this. Shopping in crowds ranks right up there with painting the hallway and cleaning the garage.
My observations tell me that to a certain population of females, the excitement of Black Friday is like a combination of the opening day of deer season and a full-contact football game.
Listening to the preparations in the weeks before, my assistant's conversations with her girlfriends (on company time no less) reminded me of Gen. Eisenhower planning Operation Overlord with is generals.
They literally did reconnaissance, gathered intelligence via the Internet and made detailed, time sensitive plans for accomplishing each objective.
My wife gave her money and made a request to pick up something special for her. Somewhere in the wee hours, Yvette met her at the door, the trophy was delivered, revisions were discussed and plans were confirmed, encouraging words were exchanged and she was back into the thick of things.
My assistant was unable to make it into work on Monday. She numbered among the Black Friday casualties. If it were Omaha Beach, I would have to say that my assistant hit the beach on H hour in the first wave, made it to the cliffs, scaled them, and advanced into the Normandy hedges before having to be evacuated behind the lines.
At this point, the details are a mystery to me. I am confident that she will live to shop another day.
I suspect that among her sistren, she would be awarded a Bronze Star with V for Valor in addition to a Purple Heart.
Get well soon!