The holidays are upon us and that means most of us have worked
ourselves into a frenzy trying to purchase gifts for our loved
ones. For some of the people on our lists, we will be able to get
the perfect presents. These are presents that the recipient
cherishes, gifts that never get returned or regifted.
The holidays are upon us and that means most of us have worked ourselves into a frenzy trying to purchase gifts for our loved ones. For some of the people on our lists, we will be able to get the perfect presents. These are presents that the recipient cherishes, gifts that never get returned or regifted.
And then there are the other gifts. You know those gifts. They’re the gifts you have to get for the person who is – dare I say it – “ungiftable.” But I’m here to tell you that you are not alone. Everyone – and I mean everyone – has at least one person on a shopping list that is ungiftable.
These people don’t mean to be ungiftable. They don’t wake up one morning and say, “You know, today is the first day of the rest of my life and I think I will spend it by making my relatives crazy and becoming ungiftable.” In fact, studies show that many ungiftable people do not even realize that they are ungiftable.
And those same studies further show that some people change throughout their lives – being ungiftable for a period of time, and then suddenly turning “giftable.” My own mother was an ungiftable who changed. When we were young, we girls would ask her what she wanted for Christmas and she always said, “I want three good girls.”
She did that for more Christmases than I can count, until one of my sisters got fed up and said, “Mom, that’s not going to happen. Think of something else or I will start the mother of all arguments and ruin Christmas Day.” And I don’t mind telling you, that was the sister who COULD start the mother of all fights and very possibly start a rift in the family that could last several Christmases. My mom had no choice but to suddenly become giftable. And she’s been so ever since. Mom’s so giftable now, she provides us with gift suggestions in July.
On the other hand, there’s my dad. Growing up, Dad was the best giftable ever. Thanksgiving evening, he’d sit us girls down and give us an envelope. Inside were the keys to his car, two handwritten notes and a credit card.
The note would say something like, “At precisely noon on Saturday, park the car by the north entrance to Sears. Proceed into the entrance, walk 20 paces through housewares until you reach the endcap with the dancing Santas. Turn left. Walk through three aisles until you see a sign that says ‘hardware.’ Take a left, then an immediate right. You will be standing directly in front of a cash register.
“Behind the register is a man named Tim. Hand Tim the attached note. Do not attempt to speak, smile or flirt with Tim. Do not make eye contact or ask if he is Tim. Read his name tag if you aren’t sure. Tim will get a bench grinder for you and return to the register where he will complete the purchase using my credit card.
“Again, do not attempt to speak to Tim. Do not, under any circumstances, open your mouth and ask Tim what a bench grinder is. Sign the credit card slip with my name – and don’t act like you haven’t done that before, I’ve seen the notes you forged at school.”
And we would obey. We’d be at Sears at 12 sharp. We’d find Tim and we’d remain mute during the entire bench grinder transaction. And on Christmas morning, Dad would open his present and exclaim, “How do you always know what to get me?”
But last year, Dad moved from “giftable” to “ungiftable.” I asked for the envelope on Thanksgiving and he said, “Oh, I didn’t do that this year. Just get me anything.”
I swear to you, I wanted to kill him. I was completely unprepared for that. I don’t even know what he likes, for Pete’s sake. I was so used to obeying him that I’d never actually had to think about what Dad really wanted for Christmas. I just saw Tim.
And that’s how quickly the perfectly giftable can become ungiftable Christmas pariahs.
But after all this, I can take heart. After all, that study proves I’m not the only person with ungiftable people on my list. And I’ve heard that my sister is fed up with Dad’s new status and plans to use her special persuasive powers to make Dad giftable once more.
I can’t wait. See you soon, Tim.
Laurie Sontag is a Gilroy writer and mom who wishes parenthood had come with instructions. Her column is syndicated. She can be reached at la****@la**********.com.
