Quirksy - Your Kris Kringle Secret Weapon
I am going to share with you a short story. I think you might relate.
A couple of years ago, I attended a work Christmas party. As part of the celebrations, management had organised a Secret Santa exchange. I’m sure you’re familiar with the festive season tradition: members of a group are randomly assigned a person to whom they give a present. The identity of the gift giver is a secret not to be revealed. Sounds fun, right?
False. There was one hitch. Not everyone obeyed the “Keep Gifts Under $20” rule.
I did. I purchased a lovely apron with a bikini-clad babe featured on it for $19.95 (note: I maxed out the allotted $20 and did not skimp out). Affordable, compact, perfect. I wrapped it, tucked it under my arm and brought it on the bus to the function.
The first present was unwrapped. It was a pencil case with a funny slogan on it. Equally as perfect, right? My present was looking wonderfully suitable thus far.
And then the third present. A beautiful blue moonstone and sterling silver bracelet, priced absurdly at $72 plus shipping. Someone always has to be the Big Spender!
I checked my rising shame, rallied my pride. Chest out, shoulders back, chin up.
But yet more one-uppers had to have their day. Gift after gift of exorbitant value were unwrapped. Fifty dollar gift cards, bottles of whisky, an electric toothbrush?
By the end of the gift-sharing ceremony, my head didn’t poke above the back of my chair and I swore never to reveal the identity of my gift.
The point is, people, that no one should feel like this. There is a dark stain in our society where people are being marginalised by festive season price tags.
This needs to end! The revolution begins now! Appropriately-priced gifts from here on out!
So, like every good revolution, we need a manifesto. A Mani-festive-o, if you will.
Here is a draft blueprint for our Christmas Coup:
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If there is a price limit, stick to it! - The golden rule. Your big-noting actions affect others. And, after all, it is the thought that means the most. Twenty dollars is a good margin that can allow a giving attitude in everybody. So even a shitkicker like you and me can get our bosses something. Like a pair of socks that gives them a chuckle and kisses their arse at the same time: https://www.quirksy.com.au/collections/kris-kringle-secret-santa-gifts/products/blueq-sw623 -
Size matters - You may rock up to your corner office in a suburb-sized Land Rover, but I guarantee there is someone in your outfit who plebs it to and from work on public transport every day. Don’t buy them a beach umbrella. Maybe something to make standing in the elements at the bus stop slightly more bearable?: https://www.quirksy.com.au/collections/quirksy-gifts/products/blueq-lip-shit-lip-balm-watermelon-tangerine
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Add thought, not dollars - You are not buying them a Fabergé Egg, so invest in meaning. Give them something to chuckle over, throw up on Insta and get a hundred and thirty likes, and feel really sad about when they lose it sometime after their eighth hot damn shot. Your objective here is to make someone happy; after all, ‘tis the season to be jolly. You could even really look after them and get them a present they’d really use on an eight-hot-damn kinda night: https://www.quirksy.com.au/collections/breath-sprays-gums/products/blueq-fs1003
If there is a price limit, stick to it! - The golden rule. Your big-noting actions affect others. And, after all, it is the thought that means the most. Twenty dollars is a good margin that can allow a giving attitude in everybody. So even a shitkicker like you and me can get our bosses something. Like a pair of socks that gives them a chuckle and kisses their arse at the same time: 
Size matters - You may rock up to your corner office in a suburb-sized Land Rover, but I guarantee there is someone in your outfit who plebs it to and from work on public transport every day. Don’t buy them a beach umbrella. Maybe something to make standing in the elements at the bus stop slightly more bearable?: 
Add thought, not dollars - You are not buying them a Fabergé Egg, so invest in meaning. Give them something to chuckle over, throw up on Insta and get a hundred and thirty likes, and feel really sad about when they lose it sometime after their eighth hot damn shot. Your objective here is to make someone happy; after all, ‘tis the season to be jolly. You could even really look after them and get them a present they’d really use on an eight-hot-damn kinda night: Ok so not the most extensive Manifesto, but follow these three guidelines and the Revolution will spread, Christmas Comrades!
Viva! Viva!