At some point in the history of the universe this conversation happened:
God: “Do you know what we should do to make Christmas even more FUN? We should force people to buy gifts for their colleagues/friends/family members that they don’t like. We should tell them to spend their own hard-earned money on useless shit for strangers, and we should market it as some sort of ‘fun’ activity.”
His helper: “Yeah, that sounds good.”
God: “Let’s call it Secret Santa.”
His helper: “Fuck, that’s brilliant.”
And now it’s here. Secret Santa. The worst thing about Christmas. Worse than Cliff Richard, ugly jumpers and bedraggled old carollers combined. Worse than the fact that Father Christmas doesn’t actually exist. Much worse.
Let me tell you why.
It is not fun. They will say it is fun, but they are in on it. It is about as fun as say, scorching your fingertips as you attempt to extract toast from a toaster, or spilling a bit of tea on the way to your desk.
You’re Expected to Fund It
It costs actual money. It’s not free fun! Oh no. They’ll give you a budget. They’ll demand that you spend your own hard-earned funds on a novelty hat or some hilarious socks for Tim in accounts. For some reason everyone goes along with this. They are part of the problem.
No one ever gives you a chance to dispute the merits of this sham, whereby you might gain a glimmer of opportunity to retract your involvement. They will instead presume that everyone wants to partake of this futile charade of merry-christmas-let’s-all-pretend-we’re-friends bollocks. You’ve got to do it, because of how ‘fun’ it is.
Then comes the gift-giving ceremony. The worst bit of all. This is intense. The pressure of secret santa gift-giving is second only to the feeling you’d get if you were trapped inside of a microwave, hopelessly clawing at the glass door as you rotated at a low heat. Imagine that – do. You’ll then be fully prepared for the bit where you all stand around the water cooler exchanging gifts and pretending to be amused/pleased/mock offended by whatever crap your parcel contains. You won’t know where to look though, because you don’t know which of these morons bought this thing you definitely don’t want. Exhausting.
There’s an Inquisition
Shortly after the gift giving everyone will be on a deranged mission to discover the identity of their own personal secret santa wanker. You’ll probably be expected to feign more interest at this point. Then your nominated santa will be revealed and you’ll have to go through the whole amused/pleased/mock offended act all over again. You’ll be knackered by this point though, and following a good ten minutes of jovial secret santa chat undoubtedly collapse onto the floor in a sweating, shivering mess.
Merry fucking Christmas.