A Canadian comedian compares Black Friday's trampling chaos to Boxing Day, Canada's December 26th holiday where deep discounts come with actual politeness. Boxing Day started in the UK as a day wealthy people gave boxes of gifts to workers, and it's now a national tradition across Commonwealth countries that somehow involves both steep sales and genuine courtesy.
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Well, here we are, Americans. Just like every November, Canadians have to pretend we're into your whole Black Friday thing. We nod along, we click some deals, we act excited about a toaster that's $6 off, but our hearts aren't in it. We still do not understand a holiday which celebrates, like, what, trampling people in a Walmart parking lot? We have never understood. When Americans talk about Black Friday, it's like the Super Bowl of shopping. I just want to pat them on the shoulder and say, "Buddy, you are missing the real magic." Because we have Boxing Day. December 26th. The day our ancestors passed down through the generations saying, "One day a year, child, we shall empty the malls like locusts with debit cards." That day is our true national shopping holiday. It's actually a real federal stat holiday, incidentally. Other places do it too. The UK still marks it. Australia and New Zealand do it. God, even Ireland leans in a little. Only in Canada does it feel like a national rite of passage. It's chaos. But it is polite chaos. We still line up. Families strategize routes through Canadian Tire like they're planning a military operation. Nobody wants to be there, but everyone has to be there. Boxing Day is mostly honest. If that TV says it's half off, it's half off because the staff wants to go home so they can eat leftover turkey in peace. We also have some decent consumer protection laws here in Canada, or as our American friends sometimes call it, Communism. So, you know, enjoy the Black Friday chaos. We will save our energy. There is one more thing. Boxing Day was not started by greed, it was started by good. In the UK, it was a day when the wealthy handed out boxes of food or gifts to workers and people struggling. We inherited it along with, you know, all the other British leftovers like the parliamentary system and tea strong enough to dissolve a spoon. And even now, under the fluorescent lights, you can still feel a little trace of that instinct. It's quiet, but it's there in the way we hold doors or pass along a spare coupon. A little Canadian generosity wrapped up inside the nonsense. That part never went on sale.
