The Art of War, I Mean Gifting

The best gifts you could ever give to the people you’re forced to celebrate.

Nov 25, 2025

Nothing in this is linked, affiliated, never has been, never will be. All of this comes straight from the goodness of my my heart, nestled somewhere between Cindy Lou Who and full-blown villain origin story.

’Tis the season of twinkling lights, forced merriment, and the annual burden of pretending your Nice List isn’t populated by people you’d happily redact from memory. 🥰

But don’t panic! With a little cunning and the appropriate level of detachment, you’ll survive the festivities with your dignity intact.

I give you: The Art of War, I Mean Gifting, a field guide to the twelve recipients you must celebrate, but would never choose.

(Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, and congratulations on making it through another year of emotional diplomacy. I hope you get the award(s) you rightly deserve.)

The Chronic Over-Sharer

There’s always that one special person in our lives who treats casual conversation like an open mic night for their inner turmoil, pulling you aside at gatherings to deliver details no human being should have to experience sober. Give them a guided journal, something dignified enough to honor their relentless self-expression, yet blissfully incapable of experiencing emotions such as dread. They get an outlet worthy of their monologues. You get to leave the room with your sanity intact.

The Self-Appointed Thinker

Every social circle has one: the person who quotes philosophers they’ve never actually read and after one glass of wine declares: “my mind just works differently.” Give them a chess set, something weighty, symbolic, and appropriately intimidating. It flatters their self-image as a tortured genius while requiring skills they have not yet demonstrated. They’ll display it proudly, and you’ll enjoy the quiet satisfaction of knowing they’ll never play a single game.

Bonus points: if you actually know how to play, offer to “walk them through the basics.”

The Status Parrot

The friend-of-a-friend who absorbs trends like a sponge with Wi-Fi, feverishly cycling through aesthetics with the devotion of someone who’s never needed to produce a single independent idea. Give them a candle from a brand that’s niche enough to feel interesting, but common enough to buy without consulting a concierge. The moment they unwrap it, they’ll perform recognition with Oscar-level commitment. They’ll pretend they knew it first. You’ll smile politely. They’ll believe they’ve pulled it off. Everyone wins.

The Parent of a “Genius”

For the parent that narrates every milestone with the breathless urgency of a press release. Give them a picture frame, tasteful, to house the one they adore the most. It offers them a stage without requiring you to sit through the performance. They’ll beam with pride. You’ll beam knowing the frame will always be doing the heavy lifting.

If this amuses you, invite someone you like. If it offends, invite someone you don’t…tell them it’s a gift ;)

The Human Forward Button

Some bosses treat “teamwork” as a not-so-poetic way of saying “Won’t you just do this for me?” They hand off tasks with little-to-no warning, with the serene confidence of someone who’s never been responsible for meeting their own deadline. Give them a desk planner, something structured and respectable, absolutely no pretense whatsoever. It looks supportive, almost flattering. They get the illusion of leadership. You get plausible deniability.

The Aunt of Perpetual Crisis

Always in upheaval, rarely in therapy, there’s always an aunt who recounts her life as though she’s trapped in the season finale of a show only she watches. Give her a martini candle. It’s a gift she’ll genuinely adore, blissfully unaware of the subtext. She gets mood lighting for her next dramatic disclosure, and you get credit for being “so thoughtful!”

The Competitive Wellness Patient

The dear friend who is always narrating their sleep deficits and supplement routines like they’re training for the Olympics of Suffering, convinced their burnout is a personality. Give them what they need: A magnesium bath soak. Something soothing, restorative, and impossible to brag about without sounding truly unwell. It lets them “prioritize recovery” while sparing you another dissertation on adaptogens. God bless.

The Crisis Collector

For that special someone who curates their personal disasters with the pride of a collector, presenting each one to you like an exclusive exhibit you neither asked for, nor purchased tickets to. It’s playful enough to flatter their sense of humor, subtle enough to pass as supportive. Hopefully, they’ll wear it during the next breaking news cycle, and you’ll get a little giggle from the parody.

The Secretly Competitive Sibling

Competitive siblings never declare the race, they just start running the moment you do. Give them a beginner’s guide to something you’ve already mastered, under the wholesome pretense of “doing it together.” They’ll grin, you’ll grin, and no one has to acknowledge the tiny Olympic event happening between you. It’s festive, it’s harmless, and it lets you stay one charming step ahead.

The Diamond-Drunk Overlord

Some engagements awaken a level of self-importance usually reserved for minor royalty, complete with expectations that everyone else will reorganize their calendars, values, and personalities around the event. Give them a set of thank-you cards: Tasteful, elevated, and an essential for someone “in their position.” They get elegant stationery, and you get to suggest, ever so sweetly, that the crown comes with the gift of gratitude.

The HOA Monarch

The un-appointed authority figure, the one who inspects shrub heights and recycling bins with the solemn duty of someone protecting national borders. When dealing with someone this vigilant, you’ve gotta go at this one the old-fashioned way: Homemade cookies, handed over like a peace treaty. It’s impossible to misinterpret, impossible to reject, and impossible, even for them, to regulate. They get the pleasure of feeling acknowledged, and the kidney stones they produce will grow at a slightly slower pace.

The Overly-Invested Neighbor

For the neighbor who monitors your comings and goings with airport-level vigilance, offering unsolicited commentary with the warm concern of someone far more invested in your habits than their own.. Give them a chic bird feeder, a charming diversion that redirects their observational talents toward creatures who actually welcome being watched. It’s friendly, disarming, and conveniently absorbing. They get a new daily ritual. You can open your blinds again.