I could almost handle Labor Day or Columbus Day or Washington’s Birthday (none of that newfangled Presidents’ Day malarkey for me) — they only killed a three-day weekend and I could always press for the close on Tuesday, but other holidays were far worse.
The 4th of July killed anywhere from three to four days depending on what day of the week it fell upon. Thanksgiving shot five days — Wednesday through Sunday (yes, five — nobody works on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving).
But the worst sales drought of all was produced by the procrastination tango choreographed by Christmas and New Year’s.
By the time the ides of December rolled around the reply “see me next year” became a delaying chorus that severely impacted my wallet. I felt Ebenezer’s line of Christmas being “a poor excuse for picking a man’s pocket” was directed towards me personally.