Shopping after the ball drops

Shopping is a great way to celebrate any holiday, and I started a new tradition a couple of years ago for New Year’s Day.

I discovered that a certain department store has a half-price sale, starting at 12:01 a.m., on its clearance items.

I bought 95 percent of my Christmas presents at smaller, wonderful stores in my hometown, but I will shop anywhere on Earth if my credit card will work there.

Last year, one of the purses I wanted for my mother was sold out, so I got my second choice. She loved it, but this year I decided I’d be better prepared. I put new batteries in the wireless computer mouse and got ready.

I started looking at the sale items before our New Year’s Eve celebration. Being the party animals that we are, my husband and I had his homemade shrimp creole and watched Talladaga Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, followed by a Denzel Washington movie. I drank water and decaf coffee as I struggled to stay awake through the movie. I was wearing my Wild Thing monkey pajamas that my mother bought me this year. (Yes, she knows I’m 51 years old, but I have a thing for monkeys.)

We changed the channel to see the celebration in Times Square; then my husband went to bed. I found a purse I wanted to get my mom, and I figured I’d be ready and could hit the order button at 12:01 a.m.

In addition to a great purse half-of-half price for my mom, who is the purse queen, I found myself one, a little zebra-print number.

It was in my online “shopping cart,” and I tried to check out as I watched the clock on my computer go to 12:01. But, it looked like the prices hadn’t reduced. I clicked the items again, and then began the almost two-hour ordeal.

I had four items in my cart — two of each purse. It wouldn’t let me remove the items. I finally decided to just buy all four, and I could return them. The processing was taking forever, so I went to the website again and decided to start over. The website was crashing; then it told me my credit card wasn’t working.

Finally, the website flashed a message: “Suddenly We’re Extremely Popular — due to an overwhelming amount of traffic, some guests are unable to access the site.” The message said I was “in its queue,” and after other customers checked out, I could order.

So I wasn’t the only crazy person out there shopping in the first hour of the new year. I couldn’t believe I was locked out of buying those purses that had been a click away just minutes before.

I remained uncharacteristically calm. I told myself they were just purses. I told myself we just had Christmas and got too much stuff anyway. I told myself I was getting that purse if it killed me.

After all, I have a reputation to uphold. I’m the woman who finds the out-of-print books, the rare items. This year, my mission was locating for Sister-in-law a discontinued face cream, which I found by calling an outlet mall in Orlando, Florida, and buying the last four jars.

If I gave up over a busy website, I reasoned, it might affect my shopping mojo for the entire year.

So I kept busy while I waited for the website. I dusted the computer room, then the living room, popping my head back in to look at the computer every few seconds. I read a devotional in the book my mother gave me for Christmas (which, thankfully, wasn’t about excess, coveting or anything that made me feel guilty). I told myself I’d wait until 1:30 a.m., which is the latest I’ve stayed up since college, and then I’d just forget about it.

Like a gambler making one more bet, 1:30 came and went. I just knew any second I was going to get on that website.

At 1:50 a.m., I went to bed. The cat woke me up at 5:50 a.m., and after I fed him, I got online. The purse for Mom was still in stock, although the one I wanted was gone. It didn’t matter. I ordered it, felt victorious and went back to bed.

When I had first come to bed, my husband roused and saw it was almost 2 a.m., so he let me sleep late and brought me breakfast in bed.

I think it’s going to be a really good year. And I’ll be ready for the sale at 12:01 a.m. on Jan. 1, 2016.

Senior writer Tammy Keith can be reached at (501) 327-0370 or tkeith@arkansasonline.com.

Upcoming Events