No gifts, please

The days of December leading up to the 25th are not only animated by Advent of Code. Most people are more concerned with something potentially more complicated than a few programming puzzles: deciding what gifts to give family members, partners, friends, and maybe even colleagues.

For a few years, I have supported what we may call Flanagin’s stance, which argues that adult gift-giving, dictated by Christmas tradition, turns the holiday into a “consumerist chore.”

Many a case against holiday gift-giving can be made. It’s consumeristic. It detracts from the “true meaning of the season.” (Whatever that may be.) My argument is far less noble in its goals. I am not a Christmas restorationist—I simply maintain that holiday gifting between adults is horrendously awkward. It’s superfluous. And I’m not convinced anyone truly enjoys it.

The most obvious risk is being misunderstood (and it happens often) as penny-pinching. The comparison is immediate: “You look more and more like Scrooge! Do you want to take your money to your grave?” Unfortunately, those who reason this way are missing the point of this stance. To clarify and prevent misinterpretations, I have added a corollary to the “no gifts between adults” principle: If I have a hypothetical gift idea for an adult that I would pursue on another, random day of the year, that’s the only valid exception.

I must ask myself the motivation for giving a gift. If it’s due to simple circumstance (we may as well include birthdays), then I think we should avoid it. Intent must count, not a random coincidence of the calendar.

What’s our best alternative to a gift? The words of Joe Dominguez should echo in our heads:

You’re born. You have about eighty-eight hundred hours in a year. […] This is your treasure. This is all you have for everything that matters to you—the love of your family, your contribution to society, your enjoyment of the great outdoors, your rising to challenges, your search for meaning, your legacy, your ecstasies (in church or in bed), your life. And you sell some of those precious hours for this [waving the hundred-dollar bill]—this has no meaning: your time is where all meaning and value lie.
Vicky Robin and Joe Dominguez, “Your Money Or Your Life”, p.48

Since any money we possess is just a certain amount of life energy, the best thing we can do is pick up the phone and text (or call) the person we are thinking of gifting something: “Would you like to meet for tea?” Or dinner, brunch, a walk in the park, or a swim in the pool. It will be necessary to find free time amidst our commitments, but it’s a cost worth paying.