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When Black Friday rolls around, the same thought always crosses my mind: do we really hate our families this much? On the day after Thanksgiving we could be sitting in our pajamas, having a wholesome breakfast of leftover pumpkin pie and lukewarm mini-quiches. But no. Millions of Americans will brave parking lot traffic jams and stand in long lines with turkied-up grumpies, ready to elbow anyone who stands in the way of their deeply discounted, 60-inch flat screen.

Lots of people love Black Friday, but surely, there’s got to be a better way to stock up for the holidays. Maybe I just don’t love America enough, but nothing about this spectacle appeals to me. For starters, I hate mornings and I love pajamas. And I have no interest in being tased by a security guard or receiving a shiner from the overzealous shopper coming up fast on my left flank.

It’s not even noon and the Slacks are flying. Monday morning is here and the “Game of Thrones” channel is a fury of fan theories, mortality bets and fiery dragon memes.

If you’re like most Americans, you’ll probably spend Friday night wearing shamrock-shaped sunglasses, getting plastered on green Miller Lite and doing your best impression of the Lucky Charms leprechaun. I’m all for a good party (trust me, I’m Irish), but is this really the best we can do to honor a culture that has given us so much?

For the first time more than a decade, I missed the Academy Awards. This omission wasn’t by choice, and it certainly wasn’t for a lack of trying. About an hour before the stars hit the red carpet, I began scouring the internet for ways to stream the ceremony online. It’s 2017. Surely there’s a way to watch a ceremony viewed by a “billion people” worldwide, on the biggest communication platform humanity has ever invented.

But no.

For a 12-year-old agency, Nebo sure has its share of myths and legends. Of course there’s Neboween, the most sacred day in our cultural calendar, but there’s also the beer goat, impromptu Ping-Pong tournaments and the time Hot Pockets were ordered en masse at the W Hotel after a particularly “festive” holiday party.

When you become part of this insanely talented group of people, there’s no real initiation rite. Still, the stories seep in day after day, until you know all about Texas Pete, the beer-and-donut eating contests and the time a developer brought gasoline to an office gift exchange. As a still newish employee, it’s all a little intimidating. How exactly does one become part of Nebo history?