Thursday

The Day Before Friday

Yes, it’s the day when every American will eat until they can’t possibly eat any more. Then they will find a way to somehow wiggle even more food down their gullets, possibly a gelatin of some sort, until they are forced to sit and watch TV. For those outside of America, let me explain what that day is. We call it Thursday.

This particular Thursday, however, we have a good excuse for overeating. Our Thanksgiving holiday falls on that day. Turkey is served. We don’t know why. We grew up being told that turkey is to be served and were given various stories of its origin, all false, and have stuck to it. We’re malleable that way.

It’s also a day traditionally reserved for distant relatives to gather together and argue about politics. Nothing goes together better than dry turkey and loud arguments. Hospitals stock up on emergency gravy to treat countless choking patients this time of year, and it’s another reason to give thanks.

After such a loving description of the holiday, it may surprise you to learn that I did not care for Thanksgiving. Maybe it was all of the driving, but it was definitely some of the people. Thankfully, those people are no longer in my life, and for that reason I am thankful.

Wait, I enjoy Thanksgiving now. I need to rewrite this. Eh, maybe next year.

It’s the day that follows Thanksgiving that frightens me. Black Friday. Recently, every day is Black Friday to most stores. They’ve turned Black Friday into a month long celebration. But the day after Thanksgiving is still the technical Black Friday. Lots of people are off of work with nothing better to do than go visit the people who aren’t off of work at their place of work. That’s a ridiculous sentence, but it’s a ridiculous time.

I have never once welcomed a “Let me ask you a question” question in a business setting. I don’t even like the “let me” part of that sentence. Do I have a choice? I guess I’m supposed to leap away and shout “NO!” because that’s really the only way to stop it at that point. I think Penny answered it perfectly. Good job, Penny!

This is a follow up to the previous time the store was repainted, brought to you by a store that I could not be in without fainting. That’s really the first rule of running a business. Don’t make your customers faint.

It’s my opinion that those little yellow signs are more dangerous than whatever they’re warning you against. If I do slip on a wet floor it’s because I tripped on the sign, because some employees place those so that you have a whopping five inches of clearance to maneuver around them. Those employees should be shipped to Shame Island, but never are.

In all of the years I’ve been writing Todd he’s never had a romance, so of course this one has to be weird. Like Todd. The real purpose of this strip, of course, was to write the customer’s running commentary.

I’ve been complained to about myself by a customer who didn’t remember me. I was called a little twerp. I have to say that I found little to go on in terms of self improvement with that feedback. I just remember telling the customer that he (meaning me) was of average height. I don’t think she cared.

Now that we’re getting into the free-for-all part of the pre-Christmas season, it’s more important than ever to not trust the website when visiting the physical store. Asking the website what is in the store is like asking your Aunt Charlene what was in the store when she went there last Tuesday. Maybe she saw Bigfoot in the store, but Bigfoot will be mysteriously gone by the time you get there.

My compassion is with Todd, here. It takes me forever to learn new stuff. I’m stubborn, though, and if you give me a year or three I’ll figure it out.

When I worked at the library, we used a cash register that was so old that the inventor’s grandchildren were long dead. As a result, many of us would would accidentally charge a customer several million dollars for an overdue book. The library, ironically, was always the first place to get and use new technology, except when it came to cash registers.

Ok, this strip was solely for me. If a character winds up ranting about conspiracies involving condiments, make no mistake. I’m amusing myself. It’s the type of idiot whackadoo rant that I could’ve gone on with for several more panels, but I spared you all. Something else to be thankful for this holiday.

Honestly, though, ranting about a condiment conspiracy isn’t too far off from rants I’ve had to listen to these days from various people, but none of whom I will be spending Thanksgiving with. There’s thankfulness galore on that one.

Todd is me again, here. This is why I avoid small talk. Go deep or go home, that’s my motto. No “fine weather we’re having” from me, no sir. It’s all “my mother escaped an abusive religious upbringing” sort of chitchat over here. It makes an elevator ride interesting.

This upset some mothers. Let me just state that mothers are the best and by “worst job” I meant that there’s no amount of money in the world to thank a good mother. It’s just, you know, it wouldn’t have been funny if I phrased it that way.