Friday used to mean something.
Monday was for the blahs. Wednesday was hump day. Sunday—or Saturday, depending on your Lord—was God’s day. But Friday was your day, the bright-line demarcation between when your body belonged to The Man and when your body belonged to you. As Loverboy sang back in 1981, “Everybody’s working for the weekend.” But now everybody’s just working. The wired-all-the-time technological “innovations” of the past two decades mean that we never stop punching the clock. Now the clock punches us.
None of which augurs well for TGI Fridays, the original fern-bar-turned-mall-canteen-turned-ubiquitous-franchise, which filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy this month. Why thank anyone that it’s Friday when…
