It’s getting to the point where holidays and special occasions are excruciating to handle.
It isn’t so much the day that bothers me as the side effects. I hate buying gifts to commemorate the moment. Much of my dismay hinges upon the practicality end. I’m finding it increasingly difficult to purchase anything meaningful.
In most cases, if the bearer needs it, he’s already purchased it and doesn’t wait an entire birthday year for this giver to respond.
Birthdays are a bore. They’re okay for kids. You can always buy them a carton of baseball cards or another huggable and they’ll be happy. I refuse to become mystified on what to buy a two-year-old. The adults drive me bonkers.
If you want to know what your wife wants for her birthday, take a peek at what she already bought herself.
“Happy birthday, darling,” she’s apt to say. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Really, what is it?”
“Wait a minute and I’ll put it on.”
Father’s Day is fast approaching. I always worry about the family giving me something impractical—or something they can’t really afford. When the kids were young, it turned out to be the bills from Mother’s Day.
While I’m on this soapbox, Father’s Day is nothing more than an excuse for pharmacies to rid themselves of all the shaving kits they couldn’t remove at Christmas.
I received an electric shaver one year from my boys and they wound up using it more than I did. A necktie I once received went so much better with my son’s suit, it disappeared overnight.
The best gift I ever purchased for my wife was a box of caramels, knowing she would have preferred creams. I ate the whole box myself one weekend.
The year I gave my daughter a $25 gift certificate to a clothing store was a costly mistake. She used it as down payment on a $250 outfit and was only in high school at the time with no job. I wound up inheriting the entire bill.
Christmas has always been a mind-boggler. I see it at the bank with people making deposits into their Christmas Club accounts. I also see it in my home where thoughts of what to give the family start festering in July.
“Let’s get an early start,” comes the order, sending a chill up my spine. I’m more concerned about wedding gifts over the summer months, not Christmas.
Sure, you can give them all the envelopes with a monetary gift but how impersonal is that. Sometimes, a personalized greeting card with an original photograph is all it takes. But for a kid? They feel cheated.
It’s like playing Russian roulette with your bank account. I’ve discovered through experience that when you don’t know what you’re looking for in a gift, you usually find it much faster.
The most thoughtless gift I ever encountered was received by an uncle. Some of his friends pitched in and bought him a pool table. Great gift if you lived in a home. He happened to reside in a trailer and wound up selling it, using the money to purchase a tool kit, which he would have preferred in the first place.
A ping pong table I once gifted a cousin turned into a countertop for fresh laundry and knick-knacks. To show his appreciation, he responded with a bird-feeder—one he crafted himself and that brought us many hours of joy. Even the birds and squirrels liked it. My gift became their
pleasure.
I know it’s usually the thought and not the gift that counts but can’t people think a little better? About the only thing I ever get from this rigmarole is an exercise in futility.
Please don’t get me a battery-powered toothpick or a shirt that’s two sizes too large. I’d like to see a year go by with no exchanges.
Don’t need an exercise bike, either. My YMCA membership has all the equipment I’ll ever use. I’ll still sitting on two gift certificates to my not-so-favorite restaurant. One day they’ll be used in a pitch or given away to one of the kids.
And with a sixth grandchild on the way, this gift-mania will only accelerate. The youngsters really hit the Easter jackpot this year. What they got at home was nothing compared to what their “grammy” commissioned from the bunny. Our home looked like the aftermath of a tornado.
Speaking of that, a thought just occurred to me. You know what I’d like to give people who have everything? A gift that keeps giving. A pregnant rabbit.
Tom Vartabedian
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