Bittersweet Charity

[penfield]

"Christmas gift suggestions:
To your enemy, forgiveness.
To an opponent, tolerance.
To a friend, your heart.
To a customer, service.
To all, charity.
To every child, a good example.
To yourself, respect."
- Oren Arnold


Every year around this time, my office participates in the tired tradition of "Secret Santa," in which a person pulls a colleague's name out of a hat and then spends between $20 and $25 on a gift for that person. Then, at the holiday party, each person opens their present and tries to guess who the purchaser was. The object is to purchase a gift that is distinctively tailored to the recipient, while presenting it in a sneaky-clever sort of way so that the recipient has to guess who the sneaky-clever gift-giving bastard might be. It's like crossing Christmas with a police lineup.

And of course, it usually results in gifts that are either utterly meaningless (gift cards, checkout-line afterthoughts) or utterly useless (commemorative Baltimore Orioles foam finger, miniature concrete gargoyle typing on a laptop).


Several years ago, I actually received this item as a
Secret Santa gift (slightly larger picture here),
presumably because ... well, I have no idea. Because
I worked at a computer? It took the strength of every
muscle in my face to keep this phony smile from curling
into a disappointed snarl.

Yes, I know, the holiday season is not about receiving gifts. But it's not about being miserable, either.

A few years ago, probably because of such holiday miscarriages, it was decided that we should just write down the specific items we wanted on the slips with our names. Not only did this make it virtually impossible to guess who your Secret Santa was, it obviated the entire "Secret Santa" conceit; if you're going to say exactly what you want and buy someone else exactly what they want, why not just cut out the middle man and buy yourself what you want?

It did, however, lead to a less hostile post-holiday-party environment.

I tired of the practice long ago, thinking it hollow, indulgent and wasteful. But it wasn't until now that I had the opportunity to actively subvert it.

In a mass-e-mail to my work colleagues today, I suggested that in lieu of Secret Santa this year, we donate our $20-$25 to the charity of our choice -- under the rationalization that the current economic morass is severely hurting charitable organizations that depend on donations.

Of course, no one in my office objected to this suggestion. What asshole would deliberately deny the Girl Scouts of America or whatever in favor of a Starbucks gift card? (OK, fine, no one. But who would do so publicly?)

I know in my head and my heart that this is a good thing I've done: stamping out conspicuous consumption and helping the needy. But I still can't help but feel a little bad about it. Is it wrong that I used charity in the service of my own selfish whim?

Plus, I just removed $300 from the struggling retail economy. Maybe that's not such a bad thing, though. Maybe I can make the recession last long enough to pull the same scheme next year.

Comments

I applaud you, sir

[instant-ethos.livejournal.com]

Selfish or not, this is an amazing thing you have done. I stopped giving office Christmas gifts years ago in lieu of charitable donations. I was hoping others would catch on. But instead, I continued to get homemade cookies and Christmas ornaments.