The Meaning of the Season

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Hopefully by this time most of the food is gone, the games are over, the conversations with family are all past that awkward "Mom, I'm going to Clown College" announcement phase, and we can all get down to business.
For me and mine, traditionally this business involves waking early to push some elderly people down in order to save a couple of bucks at Target.
Wait.
I mean we have special family time together to reflect on all of our various blessings.
Whatever line you find yourselves in for bargain electronics on Black Friday, try to keep something in mind:
You know that music they play in all these stores? The same crappy Christmas music that has been so annoying for the past couple of weeks?
The age-old standards which, after three notes hit that tender area at the base of the spine and send pain shooting out to the extremities, prompting a primal purchase or fight response in bipeds?
The people working in these stores have been hearing it for hours every day. They will continue to do so for the next few weeks. To them, these songs have entwined themselves around their inner ears, compressed, impacted, and their cheery notes register as a dirge.
Be kind.
They got up earlier than you did and their punishment is unending.
Good luck to you, my retail laboring friends. December too shall pass.