Pass Me the Festivus Pole

Pass Me the Festivus Pole: Group gift exchanges.

As Frank Costanza from Seinfeld would say, "The tradition of Festivus begins with the airing of grievances." Pass me the Festivus Pole, and listen up.

Takes Festivus Pole

This year, the number of group gift exchanges has gotten out of hand for my family. I appreciate that it's an attempt to limit the number of gifts we buy and to make things equitable at work and school. I also like the clearly defined price ranges, even though a low limit can often make shopping harder rather than easier. I love the sentiment behind all of the giving, but it's gotten out of control for us.

So far this year, my family members are participating in thirteen gift exchanges or donations, and it seems like they continue to crop up, even with less than two weeks to go until Christmas break.

Number 1 $25 Lee Extended Family Christmas Party Gift Exchange: This one keeps us from buying twenty individual gifts for all the cousins. It's great in theory, but not all gifts are created equal. The lottery tickets and Dunkin' Donuts gift cards are popular. The hot chocolate gift sets, not so much. One year I got a shower curtain that didn't match either of my bathrooms, and my father got a Canoe cologne gift set, which he put in a trash barrel at the rest stop on the way home from the party. Fragrance is kind of a personal thing. Why would anyone buy the gift of fragrance when the giver doesn't even know if the receiver will be a man or a woman?

Number 2 $25 Work Exchange for Patientlee: It's classier than Mr. PL's work exchange, but I usually get screwed, and not in that good way. One year I got nothing. Another year I got a huge assortment of cheap-ass candles. I'm a snob; anything less than a Yankee Kitchen Candle goes in the trash. I especially hate the pressure to participate in this one because we use it as a rallying cry for unity and morale. I'd rather just pay a "Morale Fee" at the beginning of the school year than have to shop for somebody I hardly know.

Number 3 $20 Work Exchange for Mr. Patientlee: Mr. PL works with a bunch of jokesters that go out of their way to buy gifts that the recipient can't actually use. The old guy gets Depends and women's reading glasses. The woman with little kids at home gets a camel-toe t-shirt. Mr. PL brought home a farting reindeer one year. They collectively waste hundreds of dollars on gag gifts each year. I'm pretty sure they're keeping the "novelty" companies in business.

Numbers 4-13 $5-$10 Exchanges for the Lee Kids' School, Scout, Daycare, and Team Exchanges/Donations: The five-dollar gifts add up. I feel like a miser buying crap at the dollar store, but I'd go broke buying all these little gifts. This year, some of the groups changed it up. Instead of exchanging gifts with other kids in the class, they asked for donations to Toys for Tots, Operation Christmas Child, or to the local children's hospital. It's a nice idea, but what bugs me is that they stress that the kids will learn the joy of giving. All my kids learn is how to find the first thing they see with a five-dollar price tag while Mom stands at the cash register, fishing pennies out of the bottom of her purse for the tax and yelling, "Hurry up! The scout meeting starts in four minutes!"

I'm not a Grinch or a Scrooge. I'm not cheap, and I like to give to others. I can't keep up with all the "forced participation" in exchanges with people I wouldn't normally buy a gift for just because everybody else is doing it. My budget doesn't allow for purchasing all of these gifts and gifts for the special people in my life. There's no wiggle room to splurge on my work friend because I spent my extra money on a gag gift for someone that Mr. PL doesn't even like.

My attitude toward gift exchanges comes from my very first, way back in dance class when I was six. I was so excited. My mother had purchased a box of modeling clay. Not Play Doh—actual clay in four colors. I couldn't imagine what kind of treasure I might get in return.

Class ended, and we lined up to pick our gifts from the cardboard box full of joyous, wrapping-paper-swaddled, five-dollar gifts. I was last in line, but I was patient, and I trusted that the last gift would be as special as the first, since we couldn't see the gifts under the wrap.

My turn finally arrived. I peered into the box and found a green envelope. My heart sank. Even before I opened it, I knew. I had just been screwed. Hard. By a generic Christmas card from a box. It didn't even have a fucking candy cane taped to the envelope! My six-year-old faith in "there's enough for everybody" was shattered that day, and a life-long distrust of group gift exchanges was born.

Next year I'd like to skip the obligatory group gift exchanges and use the money I save to show the special people in my life that they're important to me. Who's with me?

Passes Festivus Pole