As soon as I glimpsed the present with my name on it, I knew I’d have to work on my facial expression.
It was the dreaded office Secret Santa.
So I had to make sure I looked somewhere between amused and touched; certainly not irritated or, God forbid, insulted.
I’d put some effort into finding out about my own recipient’s interests (I bought him the new book by his favourite author) and enjoyed seeing how chuffed he was when he opened it.
But any anticipation I might have felt about my gift quickly evaporated, replaced with awkwardness.
It was the 1990s, I was working for a London magazine where we were all obliged to take part in this festive tradition.
The gift I received was wrapped in a page torn from a lads’ magazine popular in that decade, looking as if it had been wrapped by someone being chased by wolves.
It might as well have been swaddled in an actual red flag.
And the treasure awaiting me, (I still don’t know who it was from – but I think it’s a fair assumption that it came from a man), was a Femidom, the female ‘condom’ brand that, to the surprise of no-one, never really took off.
Oh, how we lolled.
We – young women in the age of Loaded – were well-drilled in pretending sexualised crap in the workplace was hilarious.
Whether it was ‘friendly’ groping, comments on our bodies or even seat-sniffing, as one bloke often did to get a laugh, there was always a sense that you had to chuckle along, lest you be thought of as stuck-up.
I was too young to stand up for myself so I went along with it, and, having heard other women being slagged off behind their backs for calling out the crappy jokes. It wasn’t threatening – just boring and annoying.
Every year millions of pounds are spent on Secret Santa presents at work, where many employees are expected to pay a fiver – often double that – to keep the tradition going.
I reckon we should ditch it.
You might have to buy for someone you don’t know or like, and, while you might invest thought into what you’re giving, there’s ample evidence that many people just don’t care.
And that unwanted garbage probably goes in the bin. All that money. All that stuff. All that time. It’s gross, and symbolises the worst aspect of Christmas: the pressure to spend, spend, spend.
I know of a scarce few who’ve received something they actually wanted or liked for Secret Santa, while I’m aware of many who have received disastrous, unwanted tosh.
One friend of mine got an uncooked chicken with a lottery ticket stuffed inside it. Another got a second-hand (I’ll avoid the term, ‘pre-loved’, here) dildo.
What is your opinion on office Secret Santa gifts?
-
I enjoy them and think they are fun.
-
I don’t like them because they are often wasteful.
-
They can be a good idea if done thoughtfully.
-
I dislike doing them because the gifts are bad.
If the used dildo isn’t traumatic enough, one friend was given a block of throat-clenchingly stinky cheese that she had to carry for the rest of the night – including to a nightclub.
Another colleague of mine excitedly reached out for her gift, only to discover it was a cactus wrapped in thin paper. She spent the rest of the day in pain.
Someone else I know got a box of Uncle Ben’s rice, and, to add insult to injury, it was already opened, so it couldn’t even be practical.
Once, during his first ever office Secret Santa, my sweet husband, who’d put some real thought into what he bought – an illustrated book – couldn’t hide his disappointment when he received a jokey penis-measuring ruler.
He deliberately left it behind after rolling his eyes dramatically.
He later found out that the woman who gave it to him burst into tears over his response. They never spoke of it, but this only reinforced to me what a disaster that office Secret Santa’s can bring.
Search for ‘Secret Santa gifts’ on Amazon and you’ll groan over the junk that would ordinarily give a HR manager the sweats.
From ‘amusing’ ways to tell someone you despise them to yawn-worthy stuff about genitals and sexual harassment (I’m looking at you, notebook titled ‘How to Sniff Chairs Without Getting Caught’), it’s all so cringe.
If people are really wedded to the idea of useless, jokey gifts, maybe they could agree to only buy from charity shops or small businesses, rather than giving even more money to giant, soulless billionaire-owned corporations.
I get that it can be good for team spirit, as some important friendships and relationships are formed at work, but we should be allowed to choose. It’s not just the waste that annoys me, it’s the sense of obligation and the enforced jollity.
If employers really want us to experience festive cheer, they should give us bonuses or time off.
Instead of a Secret Santa, I rather like the idea of a mini-raffle. A grotto lotto, if you will. Everyone puts in £5, you pull a name out of a hat and the winner takes the lot.
Other options could be pooling the money and taking a secret vote on which co-worker most deserves to receive it (an unsung hero, perhaps), giving it all to local charity or someone who sleeps rough near your workplace.
That could really make a difference for someone.
I’m still up for a family or friendship-group Secret Santa – it’s cheaper, calmer, and there’s a far better chance the present won’t feel like it was grabbed in a panic at the till.
But now that I’m freelance and mostly working from home, I’m blissfully free from the annual office Secret Santa nightmare – a festive torture I’m no longer forced to endure.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk.
Share your views in the comments below.
