If you looked through the windows of two of America’s great retail behemoths on Friday, you saw a tale of two very different Black Fridays.
Target ran a tote bag promotion. The move ensured long lines and enthusiastic shoppers at the start of retail’s big day. But the bag’s merchandise was disappointing and the early morning crowds dispersed.
“If you’re frustrated with our recent performance, we are too,” incoming Target CEO Michael Fiddelke had told investors a week earlier. Black Friday appeared to continue that theme of disenchantment.
Meanwhile, across the parking lot, Walmart’s Black Friday wasn’t just strong; it was record-breaking. An estimated 30 million shoppers flooded its stores while Walmart.com remained the second most-visited retail site for the sixth consecutive year.
Lucrative categories like furniture, automotive, beauty, toys, and electronics drove significantly higher sales than previous years. While rivals scrambled to generate foot traffic with giveaways, Walmart simply opened its doors and watched America pour in.
These two contrasting Black Fridays are entirely representative of the yawning gap that now exists between Walmart and Target. Walmart is on track to post annual revenues of over $700 billion for the first time ever this year while Target will limp in with just over $100 billion. Walmart’s same-store sales jumped 4.5% in 2025; Target’s fell 3.8%. No wonder Walmart stock is up 8% while Target’s share price has lost more than a quarter of its value this year.
Just a decade ago, these two behemoths were in much closer competition. Both were fighting for the same middle-class shopper. Both were discount retailers with national ambitions. Both looked capable of sustained growth.
Something happened between then and now.
Over the past five years, Walmart has hammered home a single, crystalline message: “Save Money. Live Better.” It’s an astute brand position—one that moved Walmart away from the feature-based claims of low, low prices towards the dual benefits of saving money and the emotional opportunities that result. A perfect example of simple, tight, benefit-based positioning with a maniacal focus on executing it across every touchpoint.
By contrast, Target became one of corporate America’s most forceful supporters of brand purpose. The company’s marketing grew increasingly dominated by DEI initiatives, Pride collections, supplier diversity programs, and social justice commitments. In 2023, CEO Brian Cornell defended these “bold commitments,” stating that “the focus on diversity and inclusion and equity has fuelled much of our growth.”
But Target, like so many American brands, was guilty of drinking too much of the purpose Kool-Aid. The last decade has seen an army of purpose-driven thinkers, many of them selling brand purpose consulting services, arguing that purpose is the route to attracting customers, selling products, and achieving profits.
This purpose agenda was apparently supported by customer data showing consumer preference for brands with values aligned to their own. But this was naïve, wishful stuff. We have known since the days of David Ogilvy that people don’t think what they feel, say what they think, or do what they say. That’s especially true in the socially signalled, buoyant world of brand purpose.
