At work, we play this game called Secret Santa. We played it when I was a teacher, but it consisted of leaving trinkets in another teacher’s mailbox. It wasn’t that hard of a game. A little note here and there—and you’re playing!
This office has upped the ante a little too high for my personal salary level. Last year, I almost had a heart attack when I heard the ground rules. The game consisted of buying small gifts almost everyday for about 2-3 weeks including candy bars, Starbucks drinks, magazines, etc., and then buying a big gift worth about $25. I don’t even get to spend that much money on my family members!
If I think about it in terms of an equal exchange, the miser in me can stomach it a little easier. This year, everyone requested gift cards. So that means, I give $25, I get $25 back. So basically, I should break even.
I’m probably most bitter because I’m not very good at the game. I forget to bring the present to work, or the person doesn’t like the gift, or something like that.
Yesterday, I wrote a poem from Santa Dogg with Snoop Dogg’s picture, and nobody could tell who the gift was for, even though I made about 5 references to the owner of the gift, including identifying him as a male because all the other people in my office are female. The letter has been “read” and the gift still sits unclaimed. I’m taking it home if he doesn’t pick it up by 4:30 today.
The reason for the season. The reason for the season.
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