From The Desk Of The Checkout Girl: Merry Nicemas (Happy Loveukkah and Joyous Kindzaa, too)

Though we’ve barely gotten through Halloween at this point, and Thanksgiving is still a few weeks away, step into any retail establishment and there’s no room for doubt: the holidays are upon us. While typing that last sentence I broke out in a cold sweat–but this year, like Patty LaBelle, I’ve got a new attitude.

November 7, 2011; 6:00 AM • by The Checkout Girl

Though we’ve barely gotten through Halloween at this point, and Thanksgiving is still a few weeks away, step into any retail establishment and there’s no room for doubt: the holidays are upon us. While typing that last sentence I broke out in a cold sweat–but this year, like Patty LaBelle, I’ve got a new attitude.

First you should know that I’m no good at the holiday season, for a number of reasons.

You see, my mom is the holiday queen. She can take poverty, sprinkle glitter on it, top it with a star, and make magic. While that made for some memorable Christmases (the winter holiday of choice in my house), it’s hard to live up to. That gene skipped me, like the fame-seeking gene skipped the other Ozzy Osbourne daughter that nobody’s heard about. I mean, I can buy all the same stuff, set it up in the same way, but it just doesn’t have that mom magic. She should patent that shit.

Also, there’s the fact that I’m an optimist. Believe it or not, I look on the bright side of most things and hope for the best. Benefit of the doubt? Everybody gets it from me. That being said, the holidays often bring out the worst in people. I mean, I work retail for crissakes. If you are unpleasant to someone who is trying to help you for any of the following reasons, you are doing it wrong:

• you are in a hurry
• you are overspending
• they are out of some product that is the key to your holiday success (by the way, that product doesn’t exist unless it’s gravy)
• your mother-in-law is a bitch, and no matter how perfect you make things this year you will never be good enough for her son

I tell you, quite earnestly, that if you get to that point, you should cancel the holidays. I know first hand that poop rolls downhill and the person you are being unkind to is not at the bottom of the hill. They have to turn around and make holiday goodness for their own family with your eye rolls, foot tapping, and “Let me speak to your manager” (last year, a woman chose to complain to my boss about how loud the shopping cart wheels sounded on our tile floors, and how it was ruining her shopping experience) echoing in their heads.

And, consumerism gives me a tummy ache. I can hardly watch television this time of year without feeling like I need a bottle of Tums from all of the commercials telling us how we should show our feelings for someone with a diamond bracelet in a fancy box or a car with a giant red bow on top. Oh, proof that I love my boyfriend comes in the form of me purchasing your new nine blade wonder razor? My kids will love me more if I give them an iPhone and some fancy apps? There’s no image I hate more than someone walking around in a state of fret, carrying their list of the names of loved ones, desperate to check off each one by purchasing a token for them.

So, this year, I’m not doing it. Any of it.

I’ve explained to my family and friends that I’m not worrying, stressing out, freaking out, or breaking down. I’m not buying anything that I don’t want to buy, cooking anything that I don’t want to cook, or decorating anything that I don’t want to decorate. What I WILL be doing is spending more time with the people I care about, and asking them to spend more time with me. My gifts my loved ones this year will include jokes, knitting, music, writing, hugs, and good food. I refuse to absorb the frantic, uneven energy of hundreds of customers over an eight or nine hour period, then head over to Target to heap it on the unsuspecting, who, in turn, heap it on others.

And don’t put me on your list. I don’t want to be your burden. Feel free to show you care for me any day, every day even but not with the biggest pile of shiny underneath your tree (or appropriate sign of the season).

I’m doing this thing old-timey, people. A revolutionary with a pair of needles, a recipe for fudge, and a ukulele.

You have been warned.

Photo by: kevin dooley

November 7, 2011 6:00 AM 1