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brENDA

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‘Gather round, everybody. It’s time to play Secret Santa!’

The excitable cry from my boss, Mariah, causes everybody to stop typing and look up from their computer screens. Everybody but me because I wasn’t typing. I was killing time by doodling a sketch of a Christmas tree on a spare piece of paper on my desk.

Not for the first time, I think about how I should have followed my passion for art rather than take this safe corporate job. But here I am, pondering the futility of my life as the year draws to a close, another year when I feel like I have got further away from my dreams rather than closer to them.

I suspect I’m not the only one who feels that way.

Merry Christmas.

‘Come on, look alive, people,’ Mariah says as I watch my colleagues wearily rise from their seats and make their way over to where the boss wants us all to congregate, which is a space in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city. Through the glass, I see the spectacular sight of St Paul’s Cathedral standing proudly amidst the December gloom. It’s a frigid winter day out there, and while I’m not particularly thrilled about being at work, at least it’s warm inside here.

‘Make a circle. Move in closer,’ Mariah urges us. ‘Don’t be shy. We’re all one big family.’

I see Kirsty, my work bestie, roll her eyes at me, and I stifle a giggle, but Mariah doesn’t notice because now everyone is in position, she can begin.

‘Okay, as you saw in my email yesterday, I thought it would be a fun idea for us all to participate in a game of Secret Santa this year,’ Mariah says, beaming widely, her white teeth almost as dazzling as the diamond ring on her wedding finger. ‘I have put everybody’s name into this bowl, and I will now pass it around. When it gets to you, take a name, and that’s the person for whom you will be buying a gift. But don’t show it to anybody else. It’s a secret, remember!’

Mariah really does seem enthusiastic about this game. This is the first Christmas she has been the boss here, but I guess the following Christmases are going to follow this routine too. Meh, I suppose it could be worse. She hasn’t insisted on playing Christmas songs in the background while we work or suggested hanging a piece of mistletoe in the staff room. To be fair, daring to do the latter would probably be a Human Resources nightmare.

Nobody puts workplace harassment on their Christmas wishlist.

So far, all there has been to show Mariah’s love for Christmas is the giant tree that was erected and decorated in the reception area yesterday by a team of three young men who looked like they were severely lacking in festive cheer. But now she is taking things further by introducing this game for us all to play.

As the bowl begins to be passed around, I watch as my colleagues take turns to pick up a small, folded piece of paper before they carefully open it to read the name written inside. But as in keeping with the spirit of the game, nobody divulges who they have drawn, so the ‘Secret’ part of this game is still safely intact. Now all we have to do is play the ‘Santa’ part.

As the bowl with all our names inside gets nearer, I start to worry about who I might draw out. Whoever it is, I’ll have to buy them a present up to a value of ￡0, as dictated by the rules in Mariah’s email. This will be much easier if I draw the name of somebody I know well here, making it easier to pick a gift they might like or at least find funny. The ideal person would be Kirsty. I could just buy her something silly, something that she would guess came from me, and we could have a giggle about it. What I don’t want to happen is to have to buy a present for somebody I barely speak to in this office, of which there are a few people who fall into that category. They’re mostly the I.T. guys who keep themselves to themselves, presumably because they’re far more adept at dealing with technology all day rather than human beings. But if I do draw out one of their names, maybe I’ll be able to find a cheap cup or fridge magnet with some kind of witty laptop joke on it or something.

‘Thanks,’ I unenthusiastically say as the bowl is passed to me, and I put my hand inside it.

Running my fingers over the pieces of paper that are left, I try to make out like I have some tactic here and this isn’t just a totally random thing. But in the end, I just give up and select a piece of paper before passing the bowl on.

As the colleague after me takes their turn to select, I open the paper to learn who I have got.

Please have mercy on me, Secret Santa.

Then I see the name I have drawn and rue my luck. It’s even worse than I could have imagined, and now I’m wishing I’d got one of the boring I.T. guys. That’s because the stakes have just gone up.

Of all the people I could have had to buy a gift for, why did I get her?

I got the boss.

That means I have to buy a present for Mariah, and judging by how excited she is about us all playing this game, I better make it a good one.

Or else.