The Dangers of Re-gifting

My son's class recently held a bake sale to raise money for a trip to Mexico they will be taking soon. When my attempts to be the Martha Stewart-mother of baking went bad, I was forced to make up for flavor by adding fluff. Dressing up my potato chip-thin cookies required accessories such as baskets, tins, stockings, and cute containers from one of my dependable Rubbermaid Christmas decoration containers. Through the years I'd ended up with one of these, two of those, and three or four something else's from different gift projects, so I had plenty of festive distractions to take away from the lackluster taste and appearance of my cookies.

On the morning of the bake sale, I proudly set up my display of festive holiday baked goods and took a step back to survey the visual appeal. Granted, the cookies and brownies may have tasted like cornbread dropped in saw dust, but with the help of my decorative containers they looked worthy of a sale. I felt the need to thank the owners of the restaurant who graciously allowed us to use their sidewalk space for the bake sale. Unfortunately, it seemed most practical to thank them with baked goods from the sale, so I filled a Christmas basket from my collection with the bland, flat tasting cookies I'd baked earlier. Carrying my lovely gift basket of gratitude, I walked into the restaurant with mixed feelings. I was ashamed to give away baked goods which would finish last in a contest, but at the same time I was happy with the fact that the basket at least looked pretty. I handed the owner the basket and thank you card and then excused myself back to the sale. As I walked back toward the sale table I noticed my husband had a peculiar look on his face. Before I could even ask what prompted such an expression he said, "Good grief, do you give away everything my sister gives you?" Puzzled, I had to ask, "What are you talking about?" Without a moment's hesitation, he pointed to the huge Christmas mug on the table which had been doing a miraculous job of making my cookies look edible. He promptly picked up the mug to point out the "To: Donna, Merry Christmas, Sharon" sticker on the bottom of the mug. After taking a moment to compose myself I carefully explained that while I deeply appreciated the Christmas mug from his sister, we had no real need for it, and it really improved the value of my cookies at the sale. Before I could even wait for his response, a horrific feeling filled my stomach. The basket I'd just given to the restaurant owner had also been a gift from my sister-in-law. Did she always use stickers for name tags, and did she always place them on the bottom. I had to find out.

In an attempt to whistle nonchalantly and look completely at ease, I sashayed back in to the restaurant to buy a drink. I could see the beautiful gift basket had been moved to the counter behind the cash register. There was no way to casually look at the bottom of the basket and remove the gift tag without looking like a thief stalking the cash register. After worrying myself into a sweat, I finally called over one of the cashiers and confided that I might have given a gift basket to the owner that had a gift tag on the bottom from the previous owner. The young girl, who acted like it may have been her very first day on the job, looked uneasily from me to the basket and back. Finally, I think she concluded there really couldn't be any harm in honoring my request. In agonizing slow motion, the young girl walked behind the counter, picked up the basket, and then tediously peeled off the gift tag.

I thanked the young girl and tried not to notice her whispering to another cashier. Some how I figured not looking at them would make them quit talking. Temptation took over as I took a quick glance over my shoulder as I closed the glass doors. Both girls were laughing hysterically and looking at the basket. I could feel flames shoot from my cheeks as embarrassment consumed me. In addition to the money raised, a couple of other important things came from the bake sale that day. The first was that I will never again attempt to sell bad baked goods. If nothing else, I will buy Keebler cookies and scratch off the name. Most importantly, however, I have learned the dangers of regifting and will always look for the original name tags!