Danger! Once more we find ourselves knee-deep in the most treacherous time of year, where anything can and possibly will go wrong. Granted, on the surface Christmas is all about good cheer and bonhomie but the smallest miscalculation can cause it to collapse like a house of cards. And by ‘house of cards’ I don’t mean building materials you can use for gin rummy but a Netflix series that began to outstay its welcome midway through season one but lumbered on regardless towards a calamitous end that became an unpleasant endurance test. That bad.
Danger! Once more we find ourselves knee-deep in the most treacherous time of year, where anything can and possibly will go wrong. Granted, on the surface Christmas is all about good cheer and bonhomie but the smallest miscalculation can cause it to collapse like a house of cards. And by ‘house of cards’ I don’t mean building materials you can use for gin rummy but a Netflix series that began to outstay its welcome midway through season one but lumbered on regardless towards a calamitous end that became an unpleasant endurance test. That bad.
Christmas means a lot of things – family, presents and the chance to set your dessert on fire with brandy sauce. (Nothing whets the appetite more than the sight of your meal bursting into flames.) I’m ashamed to say it, but these days we list all our family members on a spreadsheet to ensure both coverage and equity when it comes to buying gifts. This time of year also means dragging the Christmas tree out of the shed and trying to untangle the lights. But if you work, Christmas means that you may need to be part of the office Kris Kringle.
I don’t know what the origins are, but the office Kris Kringle is something that can go oh-so-wrong oh-so-easily. Years ago, when I first started working, our office had a five dollar limit for its Kris Kringle. I received aftershave. The aftershave was called ‘Brando’ and, frankly, what young man in his early twenties wouldn’t want to smell like a reclusive semi-obese actor, especially while at work? Opening the bottle was like kicking down the gates to Hell itself, as a pungent odour that could only be the work of the Dark Lord attacked my nostrils. Although there was a five-dollar limit, I couldn’t help but wonder what my Kris Kringle had done with the rest of the money.
It got worse. One of my colleagues, her sense of olfactory justice incensed by the powerful stench that had been loosed from the bowels of the Brando bottle, decided that the best way to avenge this Yuletide injustice was to pour it all over my desk. It was a long time ago, and it’s possible my recollection has become less reliable as time has marched on. But as the ‘Brando’ hit the desk, plumes of foul-smelling smoke rose up. I wouldn’t have been surprised if, after the smoke cleared, there was a genie there. He’d have been the spitting image of image of Brando as Colonel Kurtz, hand sweeping his bald head and whispering something about ‘the horror, the horror’.
Choosing a Kris Kringle for someone else is equally hazardous. In years gone by, I’ve selected albums I’ve liked and given them to others only to watch on as they opened their gift and their facial expression made the journey from perplexed to plaintive disappointment in a matter of seconds. Astounded that another human being wouldn’t want Elvis Costello’s third album ‘Armed Forces’ complete with bonus tracks a mere twenty four years after it was first released, I found myself wanting to grab my underwhelmed colleague by the shoulders and shake them, shouting, ‘it’s been re-mastered for crying out loud!’.
No doubt, such gifts are to others what ‘Brando’ aftershave is to me. There’s probably an article in some other local newspaper referring to the time the author was lumbered with an Elvis Costello album for Christmas. After several more unsuccessful attempts to impose my musical preferences on others, I decided to take a different approach. After observing numerous Kris Kringle events, I began to notice that some gifts are go-to crowd-pleasers. These sure-fire successes include coffee mugs (with or without some kind of slogan), gift vouchers and picture frames. These are the perennials, the gifts that never disappoint.
I decided on a picture frame. Partly because I couldn’t find a coffee mug with a slogan I considered sufficiently witty without being vulgar and because I wanted to avoid a voucher. But to make it extra special, I used the company’s digital camera to take a picture of myself. Normally photo frames come with a picture of total strangers. What better way to personalize a gift than by including a picture of me?
I could tell by the look on Brian’s face that he was surprised. I’d like to think he was overwhelmed at the quality of the photo. He was strangely quiet the rest of the afternoon. I can’t say I ever saw the picture frame in his office. A short time later, he retired. To the best of my knowledge, my Kris Kringle gift had nothing to do with his decision to stop working completely. I hope not.
This weekend, I’ve got to choose a Kris Kringle gift. I’ll be steering clear of picture frames and the works of Elvis Costello more generally. I’ll be getting a voucher. It’s safer that way. Incidentally, I did a quick search for ‘Brando’ aftershave and found someone selling it for thirty-five dollars US a bottle. That’s quite the increase in value. Which goes to show how time can make almost anything seem more precious. Happy Christmas everyone.