(I work at an art museum with multiple floors as a gallery attendant. Usually, there are two attendants to every floor, and we rotate through the floors on the top of the hour, and we aren’t always with the same person we started the day with. It’s late November. I’ve requested off for Christmas Eve, as my parents are divorced; I only get to see my father’s family Christmas Eve. I put in my request mid-October and was told by the director of my department that it was approved and I was good to go. Schedules are done a month in advance, hence why I put it in super early by normal bi-weekly scheduling standards. I’m with a semi-new coworker who has been here a month. I don’t particularly like him; he acts as if he’s worked for the museum for a decade, and feels his art background and experience in another museum makes him better than the rest of us who have worked at the current museum for a year or more. The schedule for December was released a few days ago.)

Coworker: “What are you doing on Christmas Eve?”

Me: *already knowing where this is going* “I’m going to my dad’s to see his family and celebrate; otherwise, I don’t get to see them.”

Coworker: “Oh, well, I didn’t get off. I have to work that day, even though I put my request in a week ago. I’ve been here long enough that my request should’ve been handed by [Boss’s Boss who has nothing to do with our department, let alone scheduling].”

Me: “That’s not the way the schedule is done. [Boss] sent us emails last month reminding us to get them in sooner rather than later, since they can’t let everyone have the day off.”

Coworker: “I haven’t seen my whole family in five years and this is the only time we’re going to get together at all during the holidays, so you should work for me on Christmas Eve. I’ll pick up one of your shifts later so it works out.”

(My head whipped around so fast, I almost got whiplash.)

Me: “I’m sorry that you haven’t seen your family, but I’m not going to trade with you. You waited until the last minute to get your request in, despite the reminders from [Boss]. This is the only time of year I get to see my dad’s family and I’m not going to miss it because of your poor planning.”

Coworker: “I’ll go to [Boss’s Boss] if you don’t take it.”

Me: “Go right ahead. He has nothing to do with our scheduling and no power to change it after it’s been out.”

(He gets up to walk to a different part of the floor.)

Coworker: “Don’t expect me to ever pick up any of your shifts, you b****.”

(The rest of the hour, he avoided me. When we rotated, I was by myself. I texted a mutual coworker about the situation. She told me that a few days before the schedule came out, he told her he’d had a great Thanksgiving with his whole family, whom he hadn’t seen in five years. Imagine my shock when I found out everyone available said no to taking his shift for Christmas Eve. Maybe if he hadn’t lied, and actually asked instead of commanding, I might’ve thought about it. But buddy, your family doesn’t take precedence over mine, your poor planning, and your audacious attitude.)

One of my coworkers is kind enough to set up a Secret Santa… with a £5 limit. Although it’s blind, everyone’s pretty good at figuring out who everyone has; nobody is in at the same time so the names are drawn and left in envelopes on the staff room noticeboard. One manager — already notoriously a flake — keeps leaving his slip behind. When pressured to take it, he gets angry, insisting that he’s “no longer taking part.” That goes down about as well as can be expected.

The next time I’m in, the slip is gone; one of the other colleagues checked it, however, and everyone knew who it was. A few days after the presents are due to come in, a box appears, addressed to the recipient. Most of us think nothing of it until the recipient comes in. I am in the middle of sorting out stock when their shift starts; they pull me aside and just tell me to go look at the box.

Inside the box — about the size of an average shoebox — is a single supermarket value gingerbread man, roughly valued at 50p. Every single person in the secret Santa put a huge amount of work into choosing good gifts for their recipient, so understandably, every other member of staff is furious. 

Unfortunately, as he’s second in command of the store, there’s very little anyone can actually do. But I have a feeling he’s going to be excluded from any more Secret Santas in our shop!

I’ve spent the better part of three weeks organizing what should have been a fun and simple Secret Santa for my department at work. It’s been a pain from the word “go.” We set a maximum of $30 and a minimum of $20.

First, one of the kids in my department recommends a website he says his family uses every year. The thing with this website is that you have to have an email address or phone number to invite people and I don’t have everyone’s number. So, I use their work emails, but the firewalls in place prevent them from receiving the emails.

Second, my supervisor spends the entire three weeks arguing with everyone about the location one of the girls recommended, but won’t make an actual decision about where she does want to go; all she’ll say is that she wants to be able to have a drink.

Third, the day before, one girl says she won’t be there, two more say they’ll be late because of a family event, and still another says she’ll be out of town. This isn’t even to mention the ones who back out day-of.

Finally, the day of the exchange arrives and three members of our department not only don’t show, but won’t answer their phones. My supervisor stands at the head of the table and whines about how she’s worked so hard to put this together and she’s so offended by the ones who didn’t show up. My eyes are about bugging out of my head because the literal most she did was suggest the restaurant we were visiting at the last minute. In fact, she had someone else buy the Secret Santa gift for her.

I keep my peace because I need my job. But, I spent $29.87 on my SS because I know what she likes. I can tell most of the others maybe spent $20, max. The girl who drew my name is one of the ones who didn’t bother to show. A week later, she hands me a gift bag with the biggest grin on her face. I open it to find a small beading set for making earrings with and I think, “Oh, she’s noticed I make most of my own jewelry. Never mind I don’t use beads; this is almost thoughtful.”

It turns out that set cost her $8, less than half of the agreed-upon minimum, which was set in order to prevent bad gifting of precisely that nature.

I’m mad enough to spit.

(It’s a few days before Christmas, and it’s one of our VP’s birthdays today. We all hear an announcement over the PA system that there is breakfast in our lunchroom to celebrate the birthday and holidays. As I’ve already eaten, I remain at my desk. Multiple coworkers have already asked me why I’m not going, and I’ve told them I already ate. Most of them just keep walking, satisfied with my answer, but not this one.)

Coworker: “[My Name], let’s go! There’s food!”

Me: “But I already ate breakfast.”

Coworker: “So? Overeating! That’s the [Company] way!”

(My credit union coworkers and I are doing a Secret Santa. We all have a very sarcastic sense of humor that jives well with the group.)

Coworker: *unwraps a gift to reveal a garment box* “I wonder what it is…”

Manager #1: *loudly and excitedly* “That’s S & M!”

(Everybody stares at the manager with shocked expressions.)

Manager #1: “Right? That’s S & M, isn’t it?”

Me: “I sure hope not!”

Manager #1: “What? It’s nice! I go there all the time!”

Me: “We don’t want to hear what you do in the bedroom!”

Manager #1: “I don’t understand…”

Manager #2: “Do you mean H&M?”

(Everyone laughs uncontrollably.)

Coworker: “Ooh! How lovely! A scarf!”

Manager #2: “I guess it could be S & M.”