I must confess that at this time of year, I am the secret Krampus.


You got it; the grumpy Christmas demon not really in the spirit.

Now comes the usual workplace Secret Santa gift exchange. The others really get into it. They like the fun of finding gifts and watching the joy light up a co-worker’s face. That is cool.

But I would rather not because I am old enough to have arrived at a position where anything I want, I can get. I don’t need to wait for Christmas. I don’t need anyone trying to find that special gift. My brain won’t get a dopamine rush. I might even feel bad that I put someone into a panic trying to figure out how to get past my grumps.

However, I would like to not be that person, that one guy who always dampens the party, at this moment.

I was going to opt out (pay especial attention to that language; it’s a deliberate choice even if not too subtle), but then I decided I will participate.

Only when I fill out the form about my hobbies, favorite movies, etc., etc., I will do something else.

I am going to list my favorite charities.

Anyone trying to figure out how to give me a gift, pass it on.

Puerto Rico is still hurting.

Florida Panhandle Counties need help to recover from Hurricane Michael.

The Heifer Project helps the poor to gain a means of production that gives them a means of earning the income they need.

World Wildlife Fund is trying to save species from extinction.

I could go on and on, but you get the idea.

Like the Wicked Witch of the West, you could melt Krampus and find the true Santa within if only you bypass a useless token of esteem and direct the money to a place where it will truly help to meet the needs of the powerless, broken, and despised.

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