The ties that bind

Nope: not The Boss. After 7½ years of working for/ at/ with/ The Institute (and giving it socks) I took retirement in October 2020. Like all my going-gone colleagues, I was quite mercenary about this. We-all retired on 2nd October, at the most inconvenient time to make staff change-over, because all public servants got a 2% pay-rise on 1st October. It was Full-on Coronarama, so there was no formal goodbye; for which I was thankful. Then last Summer, my/our Department rented a room in town and stood us a dinner, a wee accolade and a weird glass ornament. 

But The Institute wasn't done! And even larger group of retirees was given lunch just before Christmas 2023. To accommodate the logistics of all these people, still-in-harness colleagues were reduced to N = 2 per department and speeches were stop-watched. It was short notice and I think they were grateful when I refused the invite and had a 'umble cheese n pickle sandwich instead. As I suspected a month ago, I could not thus avoid getting a glass vase. It arrived here at home, all parcelled up, the day after Storm Jocelyn blew through. The vase was hand-blown at Jerpoint Glass [L]. Me, I would have preferred a different design; but I'm not gonna use it, so I don't really have skin in the game. otoh, the colour does rather complement The Grape, The Beloved's Citroën Picasso. The design is called Tulip Vase and it's 25 cm = 10" tall. I don't know where I'm going with this: nobody wants a heavy glass object full of flowers (and water) in the car with them if they get side-swiped at an intersection.

If I can think of a way to seal the top, I could fill it with something typical of today and add it to our Centennial Time Capsule. The diggers-up in 2121 may look on such a handy water-proof container as worth its weight in spear-points.

I have baggage about gifts. I just participated in my last family Kris Kringle, for example. Nobody shd be put in a position where they feel obliged to give me something unless they know I want it. Gift giving should never be transactional but Kris Kringle, and indeed Christmas, tends to make it so. The Kwakiutl of the Pacific North-West allowed potlatch = reciprocal gift-giving to get completely out of hand. In order not to lose face, communities would bankrupt themselves and their neighbours as gift value spiralled out of control. With this purple vase it is transactional but not reciprocal. When a powerful entity gives something to someone who is powerless to refuse, that says I still own you. Also, because the vase has no utility, it's a tawdry metaphor that the retiree (who was previously adding value to the enterprise) now has no utility. The Institute doesn't care enough a) to include a named contact on the compliments slip through which I could formally express my thanks b) to ask whether purple matched my curtains.

I could do (a) above: I'm well brought up, I was obliged as a child to write insincere thank-you letters to two rellies who both sent me a Lett's Schoolboy Diary in 1964. Now, though, I really am that man who has everything. The Blob as my diary for starters! Obvs I don't have everything but I don't want no more stuff. Family, pals, previous employers, please note. To paraphrase Dorothy Parker.

yachts make you seasick
devices wear out
events give you covid
you're best off with nowt

 You're kinder than me and can doubtless cast this transaction in a more positive light.