(With apologies to Clark Griswold in National Lampoons Christmas Vacation):
“Hey! If any of you are looking for any after-Christmas gift ideas for me, I have one. Id like the head of the Nintendo company right here tonight. I want him brought from his happy holiday slumber over there wherever he lives with all the other video game makers and I want him brought right here, with a big ribbon on his head, and I want to look him straight in the eye and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, @#$%^&, hopeless, heartless, fat-@#$, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey stuff he is! Hallelujah!” After 19 Christmas seasons of managing not to get caught up in the pursuit of the “hot toy,” I finally fell into the trap this year when my 12-yearold asked for a Wii, which, loosely translated, is Japanese for “over-priced video game that cannot be found anywhere.” Oh, I looked. I looked in Wal-Mart and I looked in Target. I searched high and low in Circuit City and Best Buy. I walked through all the malls, stopping in every GameStop and EB Games store. When I wasnt actually in one of these establishments, I was on the phone, calling them to find out when or if another shipment of Wii systems would arrive. What an up close, personal and repulsive snapshot on human behavior at its worst: here were pimply-faced store clerks on a power trip. “No, sir, I have no idea when we might be getting another shipment and, even if I did, I wouldnt be able to tell you.” Or twenty-something assistant store managers oozing attitude, as if just asking if they had a Wii in the house, demanded a heavy sigh, a roll of the eyes, and a dismissive “Yeah, right.” (One clerk initially appeared to be sympathetic, asking if my son had any other system. It wasnt long, however, before he tried to steer me toward an Xbox 360. Yeah, right.) Usually, I would avoid such unpleasant interaction, preferring instead to, well, make fun of everyone else who found themselves in such a predicament. But it seemed I had painted myself into a verbal corner with my kid. See, in an effort to keep the excitement of Christmas high every year, I figure out what gift each of my children wants the most, then pretend that it is just not doable. No way. Impossible. Of course, on Christmas, the toy was always sitting there under the tree, waiting for them. So this year, as I did my best to let my son down easy, all I kept getting in return was a knowing nod and a “Sure, dad. I understand. A Wii is just not doable this year. Got it.” Then hed wink at me, and I knew he fully expected to be Wii-ing like a champ on Christmas morn. I even did something I swore I would never do: I got up at 5 a.m. one Sunday morning because the rumor was that a limited number of Wiis would be available. In the darkness I cruised past Toys R Us Kmart Target Circuit City . Each was already encircled by a horde of desperate parents, shivering in the cold, waiting for the doors to open and hoping they made the cut. “Should I get in line?” I wondered, already knowing deep down in my heart that the Wiis would run out long before I got to the door. A couple more questions flashed through my mind: “How many of those people in line planned to put their Wiis for sale on the Internet for an obscene profit, thus profiting on the desperation of others?” and “What would my dad have done in this situation?” I couldnt answer my first question. As for the second, I think he would have explained that, because he worked two jobs to provide for his family, he didnt have time to stand in lines for a toy. Then hed tell me to appreciate what I had because a lot of kids have a lot less. I decided to go home. If my kid is destined to have a Wii, it will come without any feeling of pressure or guilt. If not, well, as the Grinch learned: “Maybe Christmas doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas…perhaps…means a little bit more.” Im sure hell understand. Yeah, right.
