Seasons greetings, minions. Apparently for 2015 we are skipping the bird and concept of thankfulness and sharing and going straight into the orgy of SHOPSHOPSHOP!! and GIMMIE PRESENTS! When I say “we”, however, don’t get it confused: if you are skipping Thanksgiving and going straight into the amateur version of MMA professional fighting…you might know it as “Black Friday”…that’s your business. I’ve had the joy of watching two otherwise sweet old ladies beat each other into submission over a Tickle Me Elmo doll…once is enough. Here at UPCG’s house we will have a feast fit for royalty, including coma-inducing turkey, the kind of desserts that people jogging on treadmills at Total Fitness fantasize about, candied yams, Black Forest ham, pies of all types, and of course, the drinkable kind of Turkey. You know damn well what I’m talking about…football, food, family and fun. Maybe a little bit of blunt-force honesty once the Turkey kicks in, but it is all in fun.

For us retail hounds, however, tis’ the season of merchandising hell. This goes beyond the parts counter…anyone in retail who hasn’t quit to flip burgers for the season is gearing up for the two months of the year of pure, unadulterated hell they will experience. Angry customers, the fun of freighting in all of the must-have products (“What the hell? Why is “#treatmesanta” trending?!”), the reek of peppermint and eggnog, the same fifteen Christmas songs played ad nauseum until you’re beating your head against the wall hard enough to see Santa’s elves dancing around your bruised forehead…yeah, the time period between November 1 and January 1 is a dark, dark place for anyone who works at the cash register, in the warehouse, or has anything to do involving a consumer.

The parts guys actually have it kind of easy compared. What the hell am I gonna sell…a gingerbread air freshener? Honestly, other than tools for that special gear head on your shopping list, I’m good…or, at least I will be once the manager leaves and I can turn the music to ANYTHING but Christmas music. Think I’m kidding? Unless I’m around the tree with family, the only time I want to hear Christmas music is Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I’d rather hear Andean throat warbling first. People in places like Pep Boys and Wal-Marts with the service center attached, well…I’m sorry. Because lots of people are going to come in, preparing some beater SUV or minivan for that long winter trip to Grandma and Grand-Pop’s house with 900 pounds of presents stuffed in the back and little Timmy stuffed in the overhead console. And they will be snippy…the worst part about the holiday season is that every consumer’s tolerance for being told no dips to negative numbers and they will not hesitate to unleash their stress upon you. You will be called everything from a Grinch to…well, you know what you’ll be called. If you are new and don’t know, research George Carlin’s “Seven Words You Can’t Say On TV” and you’ll get the idea.

If you’re the poor soul working: batten down the hatches, strengthen up your resolve and thicken your skin: the hoards of holiday shoppers are out and in full force. If you are in the role of consumer, try to hold back on fully unloading on the sales clerks, the cashiers and the ones who are doing their best to cater to your whim. Beat the hell out of a fellow shopper if you must, but leave the workers alone. Best of luck to you all. I’ll be sitting by the fire, sipping on some eggnog that might have a hit of Maker’s Mark in it, staying miles away from that mess.