Thank You For Your Apathy

Did You Get the Gift Receipt?

Is it even a holiday if you don’t receive at least one gift you didn’t ask for?

I don’t mean that cookie tin you’ll resign yourself to eating, either.

We’re talking the gift so inappropriate you start contemplating whether Aunt Ida is A) secretly sending you a message that she’s never liked you and wishes you’d exile yourself from the family, or B) lost track of what humanity deems acceptable for social interaction fifteen decades ago. Probably both. (You know the present I’m talking about. It’s currently stuffed under the clothes you keep meaning to donate when you aren’t deluding yourself that you’ll one day fit into them again)

Everyone opens at least one each year.

And anyone who grew up in a family vaguely resembling mine (Classic Catholic Guilt®) is expected to reciprocate the gift with an appropriately gushing Thank You note.

Whether or not you secretly used the present for kindling.

Or foisted it off on some unsuspecting soul you may or may not know. (Admit it: You’ve donated a terrible gift or two in your lifetime using the justification, “If someone has nothing, they’ll appreciate anything.”)

That’s the standard pattern of behavior Society has chosen to adopt: Gift = Thanks. Most of us fall into the routine without thinking, too. Whether or not we mean the words choking out of our mouths, we allow programming to take over and spit them into the air.

As children, we experienced repercussions for not toeing the line, giving Great Aunt Bertha a smile, and chirping, “Thank you!” when she handed us the creepiest clown doll on the planet. Never mind the fact we couldn’t force our hands to touch that thing. And maybe we “accidentally” left it under our weird cousin’s bed instead of packing it in our suitcase like Mom said. We still spit out the automatic behaviors lest we face the consequences. (As if something worse than being saddled with an almost-certainly cursed clown might exist)

Odds are no parents stand over our shoulders now, though (unless you’re short).

Yet the words “Thank you” continue to spill out of our lips for the dumbest “gifts.”

All someone needs to do is raise an eyebrow in expectation, show a slight smile of anticipation, and we cave. As if they’ve done us some great honor by handing over a polished turd.

We assume—so I assume—there’s an invisible presence watching our every movement and jotting down any lapses in good human. (Naturally, this excludes those who do believe in that invisible watcher) An entity who will run and report every transgression to our parents for future scolding.

With no access to that accounting sheet, we helplessly resort to our best manners, even when looking down at absolute piles of shit in our fingers.

The doctor took time out of their day (a whopping five minutes) to review lab results with you (none of which differed from the same tests they’ve run a hundred times in the past) and congratulate you on your health (because it means they aren’t required to exert any further effort or interest). By all means, Smile and thank them! They’re magnificent humans worthy of praise!

Your family sent you a gift from your Amazon Wish list (literally ignoring your entire email where you requested at least five other options)—the same thing they always do (because bothering to pay attention to your life requires too much effort)—and then insist they had no idea what else to get you (as if you make no effort whatsoever to show the world what you do or where your interests lie). Dust off that same old thank you note you use every year of how delighted you are with their unparalleled prowess!

A compatriot of yours delightedly thanks you for sharing and raving about their work on your platforms, praising you for supporting them (it’s part of the gift = thanks equation, after all), acknowledging your humble reply of, “We’re supposed to support one another,” (honesty is the most wasteful truth in this world) before disappearing into the aether forever. Be happy and delighted they thanked you and recognize there will be no reciprocation; you are merely a means to an end and should accept your position as such.

The words are expectations.

If we don’t say them, we’re deemed crass and ungrateful; we violate the rules of human decency. It doesn’t matter whether we want the gift thrust upon us or not, or even whether we feel the present is worth being described as such. So long as the other person—or that nameless, faceless entity—deems it such, gratitude is required.

Complete with a smile and generous tone.

Somewhere along the line, we replaced sincerity with false human programming. About the same time we stopped paying attention to one another. In the rush to demonstrate our (outward) empathy toward one another, we forgot what the word actually meant.

But we’ve become damn good at saying “Thank you” without meaning it, haven’t we?