The white elephant in the newsroom

The annual Secret Santa gift exchange at my last job went

something like this: Joe gets Jerry a Tower Music gift certificate;

Jerry gets Sarah a Blockbuster gift certificate; Sarah gets Melanie a

Barnes and Noble gift certificate; Melanie gets Ray a fancy box of

imported hazelnut chocolates, unaware that Ray is deathly allergic to

hazelnuts, so Melanie ends up eating most of them (they’re her

favorite).

No one ever took my suggestion that we all just sit in a circle,

each with a $20 bill in his or her hand, then pass the $20 one person

to the right and say, “Happy Holidays.”

OK, I didn’t really suggest that, but I was surly enough to thumb

my nose at the whole business in our internal e-mails. In one big

group message, we were all asked to help out our Secret Santa by

listing some things we might like to receive as gifts. Two years

running, my wish list included a donation to a charity or “Give $20

to a homeless person and write me a note telling me about it.”

Nobody bit. But I did get the next best thing. One year, I had

been grumbling about all the nonsensical, made-up excuses to spend

money at the mall. Foot-care kits were my target du jour. I was

ranting to one of my friends at work how ridiculous it was that a

retailer was marketing its own line of refreshing foot spray, packed

in a nice ready-for-giving gift set. Guess what my Secret Santa got

me: That’s right, 8 ounces of sweet-smelling humility in a spray

bottle. (It made my toes tingle real nice-like.)

Luckily, I now work in a place where no one can afford $20 (how

cute that you think I’m kidding). And even if they could, I’m sure

most of the people here would rather thumb their noses at hollow gift

giving.

Here at the Daily Pilot, we do something called a “white elephant

gift exchange,” which will take place today. Those of you who

remember Bill Lobdell, this paper’s oh-so-dignified former helmsman,

may be shocked to learn that he instituted this irreverent Pilot

tradition. (Hi, Bill.)

Everyone brings a wrapped gift. But the gifts aren’t chosen based

on the giver’s belief that someone might like them. Au contraire.

What we shoot for here is pure rubbish. The objective is to dump the

goofiest, weirdest, most useless gift you can think of on some poor

dupe. All the wrapped gifts are placed under a tree, looking

perfectly pretty and un-garbage-like. Then, everyone draws a number

out of a hat.

The higher the number you get, the better. Here’s why:

Whoever drew No. 1 walks over to the tree and selects a gift, then

opens it in front of the others. Squeals of laughter ensue when the

pretty paper is removed to reveal (using an example of a real gift

from last year) a multi-colored ceramic surfing chimpanzee statue.

Then, the person who drew No. 2 (no pun intended) does the same,

scoring something like a faded fabric flying disc (far cheaper and

tackier than a Frisbee), emblazoned with a peeling L.L. Bean logo.

Then -- and here’s the tricky part -- if the person who got the

flying disc doesn’t like it, he or she can march right over to No. 1

and forcibly trade it for the monkey statue.

And so it goes on down the line, as the recipient of a plastic

length of hose leverages his higher position in the number draw to

stake a claim to surfer chimp or the flying disc.

Of course, some people can’t resist actually bringing nice gifts

(bless them). Last year, a few bottles of wine were the center of

some pretty passionate trading wars. And ironically, I ended up

scoring something I really liked and still enjoy: A plastic action

figure of Phillip J. Fry from the TV show “Futurama” (how cute that

you think I’m kidding).

But that won’t stop me from wrapping some perfect trash this year.

I can’t tell you what my contribution to this year’s white elephant

gift exchange will be, partly because I don’t want to tip off my

co-workers, and partly because it was given to me as a gift by

someone who may be reading.

But trust me, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone here. And it will make

foot spray look like liquid gold in comparison. Ho, ho, ho.

* JUNE CASAGRANDE covers Newport Beach and John Wayne Airport.

She may be reached at (949) 574-4232 or by e-mail at

june.casagrande@latimes.com.