Gift Cards And Butterscotch Suckers

You know the guy who says, “I’m not giving that homeless guy any money; He’ll just use it to buy drugs or hooch”? Yes, we all do. At some point or another, you may have even been that guy, or girl (this depends entirely on what’s dangling or not dangling between your gammies ←—that’s a lot of digression). But let’s forget about that. Most of us tend not to think about hobos all that much. But when we buy a gift card for a friend or family member, we’re treating them just like the common metropolitan transient.

Here’s the deal. It’s your friend’s birthday. You think to yourself, “what do I get for Craig?” Fucked if you know, right? So you get Craig a card. You write some shit inside and slip in a gift card for $25 dollars towards a purchase at Fabricland. Why get him an actual gift? That requires thoughtfulness. But you could have given him cash. Cash that would give him the ability to do with it whatever he wanted. Instead you chose Fabricland. You like their product. Their yards of, duh, fabric. The copious balls of yarn. Their pleasant elderly staff who wouldn’t look out of place in a Werther’s commercial. Craig has no choice where he spends his gift card now because evidently you value Fabricland more than your friendship with Greg (his name is Craig, you jerk). Imagine if you had given Craig $25 in cash. He could have purchased a knife. A knife that he could use to stab you with. Or hooch. Turns out a gift card might have just saved your life.


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