Black Friday: How Marketers Turned a Regular Friday Into a National Emergency

There was a time when the day after Thanksgiving meant nothing more than reheated stuffing and a commitment to an elastic waistband. A quiet day. A recovery day. A day to process how many landmines you narrowly avoided at yesterday’s family gathering.

Then marketers looked at this sleepy little Friday and thought, this could be so much more chaotic.

Black Friday didn’t start as a cherished tradition. It was assembled, piece by piece, by marketers who saw an opportunity to turn post-turkey lethargy into an annual frenzy. And it worked.

From Innocent Friday to Manufactured Holiday

Gift-giving has deep evolutionary roots. It’s a way to signal competence, affection, status, and desirability. Marketers weaponize that instinct. Holiday advertising becomes a subtle reminder that your worth as a partner or parent is tied to the gifts you give. The better the gift, the better the person. The more impressive the purchase, the more impressive the love. It’s beauty advertising logic wrapped in tinsel:  Prove you care. Prove you belong. Prove you’re worth choosing. Do it with electronics.

What began as a naturally busy shopping day was slowly rebranded as something essential. Marketers framed it as the official start of the holiday season, the day when “smart shoppers” get serious, the 24-hour window during which all holiday readiness is determined and the best deals can be found.

And because repetition is magic, people began to accept this artificial urgency as truth. Before long, Black Friday wasn’t something you could choose to participate in. If you want the biggest discounts on the best gifts you can get for your family, you have to be there.

Treat yo Self

Family gatherings and holidays can be emotionally charged, and the residue of that intensity carries over into the next day. Psychologists call this emotional spillover. It’s the idea that the stress, irritation, or exhaustion of one experience shapes the decisions that follow. Retailers rely on this fragile state. When humans are tired, overstimulated, or emotionally rattled, they’re much more susceptible to high-reward, low-resistance behaviors. Impulse buying becomes soothing. Spending money feels like control.

This is also where moral licensing sneaks in. It’s the psychological phenomenon that tells us yesterday’s suffering or effort has earned us today’s indulgence. Surviving Thanksgiving, the cooking, cleaning, hosting, navigating family tension, becomes the justification for whatever reward your lizard brain lands on the next morning.

Marketers don’t discourage this mindset; they lean into it. Black Friday becomes your prize. A retail pat on the head for a job well done.

Because Yesterday Was… A Lot

If you think about it, Black Friday is engineered to mimic a drug cycle. There’s anticipation beforehand, tension during the build-up, release when the doors open, and the thrilling sense of victory when you “score” something. That rush is deliberate. The entire day is designed to create a temporary high.

And like any high, it requires escalation. Every year the deals must be deeper, hours earlier, drops more dramatic. This is tolerance, retail edition.

Once consumers get hooked on that adrenaline, the calendar fills with additional highs. Cyber Monday, Prime Day, spring blowouts, “exclusive access” events. Black Friday isn’t a standalone moment anymore. It’s the gateway drug for a year-round hit schedule.

Black Friday as Annual Conditioning

The part most people don’t realize is that Black Friday isn’t just about discounts. It’s about the conditioning. When marketers can herd millions of people into stores at dawn, they reinforce a powerful behavioral message: When we say now, you act now.

Black Friday becomes a rehearsal for every future flash sale, limited-time offer, and fake countdown timer you’ll encounter year-round. It normalizes urgency. It blurs the line between “want” and “must act immediately.” It trains consumers to leap first and think later.

The final, most brilliant move marketers made was transforming Black Friday from a choice into a ritual. Not participating feels almost rebellious. Skip the sales? How will your family survive without a discounted air fryer?

Once something feels inevitable, it becomes infinitely expandable. And so Black Friday stretched into a week, then a month, then a quarter. Now we have “Early Black Friday,” “Last Chance Black Friday,” “Black Friday but make it October.”

It is no longer a day, it is a season, and seasons don’t ask for permission.

So What Do We Do With This Knowledge?

Understanding Black Friday doesn’t require you to forsake it. You can still hunt for deals, still enjoy the excitement, still treat yourself if treating yourself feels good.

The difference is that you now know what’s actually happening behind the curtain. You understand the levers. You see the emotional choreography. You recognize how expertly the day was built to target the deepest, quietest parts of your psyche.

Black Friday wasn’t made for the conscious consumer, it was made for the lizard brain and our lizard brains have been showing up on time for decades.