(It is very close to Christmas. Not unexpectedly, the line-up for the post office is very long. The lady ahead of me has probably been waiting for at least 20 minutes by the time she reaches the counter.)

Lady: “How much to mail this package to [Province]?”

Clerk: “$3, ma’am. $5 if you want to be guaranteed that it will get there by Christmas.”

Lady: “$3? Are you serious? That’s more than the gift cost! Forget it!” *leaves*

(So, to recap: she spent less than $3 on someone’s Christmas present, waited in line for almost half-an-hour to mail it, but balked at a $3 mailing charge. I feel sorry for the would-be recipient!)

(I work in retail auto parts supply. The following phone call is received about a week before Christmas.)

Me: “Good morning, Parts Source. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Um, hello. Do you have an inflatable cactus?”

Me: “Pardon me?”

Caller: “I’m looking for a giant inflatable cactus. Do you happen to carry them?”

Me: “Um, no, sorry.”

Caller: “OK. Thanks anyway.”

(About two months later, a friend and his wife buy a home and host an open house. I meet one of his new neighbours. The following exchange occurs after some chitchat about the Christmas holiday.)

Neighbour: “It was our turn to host the whole family this year and we decided to make it a Mexican-themed Christmas party with Mexican food, Mexican decorations … the whole nine yards.”

Me: “Great idea! I’ll bet it was fun to plan and set up.”

Neighbour: “Yup … one hilarious thing that happened was my wife decided she wanted to decorate a cactus instead of a tree. The only problem was finding a cactus big enough. I suggested she might find an artificial one … like the big inflatable palm trees we once saw…”.

Me: “Mmmmm.”

Neighbour: “…so she gets the phone book out and calls what she thinks is a store called Party Source and asks if they have an inflatable cactus…”

Me: *uncontrollable laughter*

(I am buying Christmas presents in a shop that sells ornaments, candles, incense, and all manner of wonderful things. Before me in the queue is a gentleman who wants to pay for his tiny purchase in cash, but doesn’t have quite enough. The item he is buying costs less than the minimum accepted by the shop for payment by card, and after being told this the gentleman turns to continue browsing for something else to increase his total. At this point Christmas spirit washes over me.)

Me: “Just add it to my things; I’ll get it for you.”

Gentleman: “Really? Are you sure?

Me: “Hey, it’s Christmas. Either treat it as a present, or do the same for someone else sometime.”

Gentleman: *hugging me* “Thank you so much! Merry Christmas!”

(The two ladies behind the counter were very chatty and friendly about this, and only later did I realise that I effectively did them out of a larger sale. If I hadn’t paid for his item then he would have bought more with his card. Oops.)

(It is Christmas Day and I am cooking dinner for the first time, as my aunt has lost her leg and can no longer do it. She is making it very clear how she feels about it, as she has been doing it 30 years. I hear this conversation taking place.)

Aunt: “If I was cooking, we’d be eating by now. She’s taking ages.”

Mum: “Then go and ask her when it’ll be ready.”

Aunt: *annoyed* “Why should I? It should be done by now; she should hurry up. I don’t know why we couldn’t have it at your house, [Mum]; her house is awful. You can’t even go in the kitchen, because the door’s locked.”

Granddad: *annoyed* “Do you want it cooked properly or not?”

(More complaining ensues. We are now having dinner.)

Brother: “These potatoes are amazing. Are they homemade?”

Me: “Yes. I got the recipe online.”

Aunt: *annoyed* “I could have made these without a recipe on the Internet. You kids are so lazy these days. You could have asked me for a recipe. I don’t see why we should have to do this differently from last year. I could have made dinner, and it would have tasted a lot better than this, and—”

Granddad: *angry* “Would you shut up? You couldn’t cook dinner because you can barely walk. You can’t fit all seven of us into [Mum]’s small bungalow, and there is nothing wrong with [My Name]’s house. This dinner is delicious, and if you don’t like it, don’t f****** eat it.”

(My aunt shut up, finished her dinner, and went into the living room where she sulked for the remainder of the time she was here. It has been three weeks and she is still avoiding me.)

(It’s nearly Christmas and we are finishing the decorations in our living room, including our so-called “Angelic quartet”. It’s a local variation to American “Elf on the Shelf,” with four winged plaster statuettes, nearly the size of newborn babies, sitting and playing, so you can arrange them on the furniture around the Christmas tree, and creep the hell out of any normal guy like me. I make a throwaway comment:)

Me: “I could really do without these dead children.”

(Later, at lunch, my nine-year-old granddaughter suddenly turns to my wife, and asks:)

Granddaughter: “Grandma, why does Grandpa call the little angels ‘dead children’?”

Grandma: “Yes, honey, why do you call them that?”

(The ungrateful bunch of cockroaches I call “family” put down their utensils and look at me expectantly, stopping short of grabbing popcorn.)

Me: “You know, some people believe that if a little baby dies, they immediately get wings and become angels, so they can fly to visit their families any time they feel sad and alone.”

(My granddaughter looks at me, pondering, then turns to my wife:)

Granddaughter: “Grandpa is also a bit of a joker, right?”

(I still call it a win!)