by: Kayla Mitchell

PR Manager

Buying a gift for someone who literally owns everything is one of the most inhumane challenges forced upon us. Forget hot pilates or running a marathon; try shopping for a dad who has somehow managed to collect every object known to mankind. The hardest task of the year comes around when the months leading up to Christmas start to creep up on you. After deep-diving each year into probably-banned markets on the internet and discovering some of the world’s most obscure objects, I always summon up some magical item and await my father’s reaction on Christmas morning.

After going through this crushing cycle annually, I have developed a deep hatred for the stereotypical “man gifts” I see each year. A knife set? I’ve never seen my dad cut more than a cucumber. Mugs with clever sayings? He already has one for every mood and occasion, including the cliche “World’s Best Dad” mug I purchased when I was seven trying to get him to finally admit I was his favorite child. Maybe a new gadget that came out online? He owns so many, a big tech company could hire him for spare parts.

As December approaches, I begin my ritual. I sit down fueled with determination and creative juices flowing, open my laptop, and after hours of useless scrolling, I always end up deep diving into online markets that could (allegedly) be slightly illegal. By the end of my routine, I never fail to end up on pages with broken English descriptions and shipping estimations ranging from twenty minutes, a little too close for comfort, to 2067. As long as the gift earns more than a slight nod from my father, he doesn’t need to know the source of my unique find. 

By now, I’ve been forced to get experimental. I have bought my dad so many gifts that ranged from thoughtful to “where did I discover anything like this?” that he has formed the habit of shaking my gifts before opening them, as if a wild raccoon is going to jump out and scare him. One year, I entered a bidding war at 4:00 AM, fighting for a purple crystal that was supposed to bring good vibes. Another year, I handed him a jar and tried to convince him it was full of positive energy. He did not like what I was implying with that gift.  

And yet, despite my professional level of investigative experience, I still have no clue what to get my dad this Christmas. You’d think I’d have a fine proof system, an online blog with ideas, maybe a well-developed list of life-changing gifts, but instead I am back to a state of profound confusion. Maybe I could buy him a Labubu and convince him it is a new type of yard protection so he can plant the little gremlin and let it scare off the animals. Will he understand the gift? Definitely not, but he will confusedly smile at me like he does every year and accept my convincing argument that I am trying to keep him “with the times”. That’s the true spirit of Christmas: giving your dad something so weird he questions your sanity, but still heartfelt enough that he will wait until you’re distracted by eating Christmas cookies to shove your gift in a random closet.