11 December 2003
I'm sick of being exploited by leech-like corporations intent on sucking my bank balance dry just so their MD can buy another private Caribbean island next year. Is it miserly to wait to buy presents until the January sales? Will my wife and children understand?
Meg says:
So far, we've discovered that Christmas is about twinkly lights, negative reciprocity, bad taste and dry food. And the little baby Jesus, of course.
But Christmas is also, increasingly, about money. And that's really annoying.
It's frustrating to think that your hard earned is going into the pocket of some bloke in a suit, making the rich richer rather than people happier. I hate that.
I hate the thought that the markup on any particular gift is somewhere in the region of 150%, plus another 100% for profit, and yet two days after Christmas it'll be £2.50, or three for six quid. What's that they say about yesterday's newspapers?
I detest the shameless, almost proud exploitation of consumers - the way that Christmas these days features more pound signs in the store decorations and motifs than say, stars or angels or babies.
Christmas is one time of year (not the one, just one) when, regardless of your actual religious persuasion, we could just use the opportunity and time off work and traditional impetus to be nice to each other and have fun.
But apparently, if you believe the adverts (and the mounting social pressure) we can't do that unless we spend shitloads of cash - on presents, on decorations, on food, on parties and on strange toys that enable tween girls to twist their hair into curious arrangements, and which they will play with for two days until they get bored of it. Christmas is not complete without Iceland - or Marks and Spencers, or Polo Mints, or Duckhams Premium Grade motor oil, or Durex, or Colgate. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a fizzy drink in your hand, right?
Bollocks.
This time last year, wandering the soulless aisles of Sainsburys in West Hampstead, I came across a display of household cleaning products, arranged specifically to appeal to the Christmas shopper - i.e. everybody, pretty much.
The main object in the display was Christmas Toilet Bleach. That's bleach for your bog with the unmistakably festive scent of pine, cinnamon and bleach.
Yes, for the bargain price of £2.95, even your toilet can get in on the action this festive season.
So Christmas isn't about spending time with family and friends - it's about spending money. Four weeks of commercial lead-up, one day of payoff when the shops are mercifully closed, then it's straight into the sales, where you're wrung out of even more cash.
What does the CEO of HappyToyCorp get for Christmas? A bank statement? And what does he give? He gives children anticipation, throughout every saturday morning in Autumn. He gives them shiny plastic to drool over in advance, hit the dog with on Christmas day, and then lie untouched under the wardrobe until the next house move. He gives loan companies a reason to smile, and the average family a debt larger than the GDP of Gabon. So thank you HappyToyCorp bloke. I hope you choke on your stuffing.
This year, give the people you love something they will love - time. And attention. And care. Give them something you own and love and want them to love too - a well-read book, or a compilation CD. Give them things that you've enjoyed and want to recycle - a handwritten book of your favourite recipes, music, or other media. Give your family things that you've put effort and time into creating, rather than simply plucking random objects of acceptable value off the shelf - make personalised gingerbread men and women, prepare a mini hamper of goodies and treats, frame favourite photographs. Give people skills and time that only you can offer - offer to build someone a website (or just help them start a blog), revamp their garden, repaint their bathroom.
This year, give people something that enables you to show them that you care, in a way that's completely you, and which isn't limited to just one day at the tail end of December.
Anna says
Fifteen things you can do that cost hardly any money at all.
(In this case ensure the givee was not the original giver - Important.)
You prove that.
Just draw square upon square upon square in colours that compliment their colour scheme (if you're colour-blind or colour-dumb, ask a friend), frame it, it's art.
(Please note, this works better for a boyfriend, partner, husband or wife than for, say, a great-aunt or business client)
It's funny, but for as long as I can remember my definition, my aim, of 'being rich' or 'comfortable' has been being able to give the perfect presents to the appropriate people at every single present-worthy occasion.
And for years I haven't been in that situation.
I approach every Christmas and realise that I haven't access to the kind of money that society expects me to spend on the people I love.
It doesn't mean that I love them less. I don't think.
I know exactly what I would buy the people I love, if I had the best paid job in the world.
And yes, We all know what we would buy, if we did have that job; which we don't.
But in a way, thinking what you would buy for those people is just a way of sorting out who are the most important people in your head.
Who are the most important, and who are the people who deserve spoiling.
We don't, it's true.
We don't have enough money to prove to each other how fond we are.
It's a shame.
We should find a better way.