The Lost Art Of The Secret Santa

I’ve said this once but I’ll say it again: the art of the Secret Santa gift giving in the office is not what it was.

Once upon a time colleagues took the time to find out two things about the co-worker they were buying for; either what they were interested in or what would embarrass them the most. Thus the point of Secret Santa philosophy was fulfilled, it bought work mates closer together.

Now shit has just got silly. No one gives anything as thoughtful as a book of hand drawn sketches of rifles to a gun enthusiast or as amusing as a tube of KY to the 40 year old virgin anymore. Even the mandatory pack of nudie playing cards (guys for the guys, girls for buyer) has dried up quicker than Grandma.

It started when people started giving stress balls and those ridiculous plastic reindeer that shat chocolate covered raisins if you pushed down on their hind legs. A gift that serves no purpose whatsoever because even when you know what they are, who on earth is going to eat reindeer shit?

Personally I blame the advent of The Two Dollar shop and other such emporiums of tat that act as a Mecca for those that just can’t be arsed. A minute, plastic pool table for the desk is neither practical nor functional so why even contemplate buying the fucken thing? Besides if I’m that bored at work a second hand stick mag in the mens will do the trick and it’s well under the $5 limit.

For the completely unimaginative Secret Santa means buying a box of crappy wafer sticks from the Warehouse, or a bag of lollies. For the completely disorganised it’s something pinched from the stationary cupboard or the stapler from Stu’s desk.

What is amazingly to me though is that despite the frugality of the economy these days, no one has yet started giving blocks of cheese, two litre bottles of milk or preserving jars full of petrol. Secret Santa is just not that practical I guess.

Thank fully I am blessed with thoughtful team mates, or at least two of them, for my last two gifts have been AWESOME and have been clearly purchased by someone who has done their homework, realising that I am both a ninja and proficient in handling the AK47:

Not that I would ever use a firearm whilst slicing and dicing my way through a garrison of very bad men because as we all know, swords don’t run out of bullets.

Mind you my last two efforts have been pretty good even if I do say so; a six pack of dirty Rheineck and a good night in for Ron Jeremy last year and this year? A mega can of horse piss aka Red Bull for Candylane because she loves the stuff. Actually I could’ve taken a warm steamy one in a bottle and saved the $5 really for all the taste or nutritional content that rubbish has in it. Next year maybe.

So it might be too late to not give that crappy chocolate cacking reindeer now but give it some thought next year aye?