Secret Santa

“Alright everyone. Put your names in this bowl and we’ll get this started!”

One by one, the two dozen workers place their tiny sheets of paper with their names written inside the bowl held by the boss. It’s a year-end Christmas party tradition, a highlight: secret Santa. After receiving everyone’s entries, he shakes it a few times, then instructs everyone to pick up a paper that’s now been completely randomized.

You happen to fall back just behind one of the girls, a relatively new hire compared to the rest. She had been around less than six months as a junior and assistant to the manager mostly, so you barely have any interactions or engagements unless it’s one of those arbitrary team-building dinners held once every quarter. And even then, you both barely speak: in fact, she checks out earlier than everyone else. Which, relatable honestly. She doesn’t even bother to give you a glance over her shoulder. Not that she’s cold or untrusting, simply detached. Like this is something she has no stake in, but has to for— reasons. It’s part of the job.

Most reactions are kept quiet or subdued for obvious reasons. She quickly takes her paper. Then its your turn, with just a handful of sheets available. You make a blind pick, closing your eyes to ensure complete randomness. Then opening, you unwrap the thin slip—

And your gaze immediately flies over to her.

What are the odds?

Here’s the thing: there is no restriction, but plenty of expectation.

There’s no worse feeling than to be given something simple—it just isn’t enough, no matter how noble or pure the intent. So the goal is: to get into Eunbi’s circle and find out what she likes, what she wants the most.

It sounds easier said than done.

From the start, it’s an uphill battle. No hints, no giveaways. Just the name and the assumption that you have some pre-existing knowledge of the person in mind. Only that Eunbi’s an enigma within your workplace; even those that work closely with her everyday provide little to no help. She’s deeply reserved they say: keeps to herself, barely reveals anything personal other than this is her third job within a year.

“She’s worked at other companies before,” says the HR rep during lunch break. “She was at the same firm as—uh—hmm. I’m trying to remember his name, but he used to work here till he got a better offer from that side. They were quite close, but not much else other than that.”

“That’s all?”

“We work together, but not as closely as you’d imagine. My business doesn’t involve her primarily, so I don’t know her that much. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” you reply.

“I can try and ask her friends and those in the know if they’re willing to talk. I’m sure they’ll be more helpful. But I can’t promise anything.”

“Appreciate it. Thanks.”

The next day, over some coffee, he manages to get her hands on some intel.

“She’s really into music,” he says. “Like, a lot. Knows how to play guitar and a bit of piano too.”

“Anything else?”

“That’s pretty much it so far when it comes to my sources.”

“Your sources?”

“I know a guy who knows a guy, and so on. No idea who this is, so I can’t tell you much. But I can pass the message along if you want.”

“Please.”

“Just one thing,” he then says, taking a sip of his coffee. “Why are you too invested in Eunbi all of a sudden? As far as I know, you hardly talk, if at all. Don’t tell me—”

“Got her as my secret Santa this year, so—”

“Yeah, say no more. I get it,” he interjects, immediately understanding the subtext. “Don’t wanna ruin their year with another mug.”

You both share a laugh.

“I’ll see what I can do. I can’t promise anything, though. But I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks.”

A couple days later, he comes back with brand new information:

“So, the guy who knows a guy who knows a guy told me he can’t really tell me much either, except that she’s a singer. Or at least wanted to be. That’s all he’s willing to say, and I’m not going to pry further.”

“Personal reasons?”

“Didn’t say. But whatever it is, it must’ve been serious. He’s not gonna spill the beans.”

“Shit.”

“I can try and get the guy’s number. See if he’s willing to chat.”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. This is a long shot.”

“Worth a try.”

“Have you thought of a gift for her?”

Pausing, you turn your gaze away from the rep. “No.”

“It’s not too late,” he says, tapping you on the shoulder. “In fact, it’s good that you’re thinking this far ahead. Most people have already bought theirs, or at the very least, have a general idea. And since the Christmas party is still a couple of weeks away, you’ve got plenty of time. Even if you’re not confident, you can always get her a gift card. That way, you’re guaranteed something.”

“Hmm,” you mutter, deep in thought. “Maybe.”

“Look, I’m not saying you should, but I’m just saying: you’re doing a bit too much. If you can’t come up with anything, a gift card is a safe option.”

“I’ll think about it. Don’t wanna be safe though.”

“Sometimes the thought is more than enough.” He finishes his coffee and sets his way back to work. “I’ll keep you updated if he speaks.”

“Thanks.”

But the thought lingers: if the guy who knows a guy can’t help, you wonder, then what are the odds the guy can.

Two weeks go by: the annual office Christmas party arrives. People’s names are called, gifts are exchanged. Amazingly, it seems that everyone shared the same thought as you: no corporate ‘Employee of the Year ’ mugs, gift cards, or teddy bears, but rather, embodying what it means to be Santa. Someone gets the latest Samsung Galaxy. Another gets a Switch 2. The dude lucky enough to be the boss’ secret santa gets a week at the Maldives.

To say the bar has been raised would be an understatement. It makes your gift look like it was bought with a discount from Temu.

And then, your turn comes. Your name is called. You go over to Eunbi, her hands clasped, detached from the party as usual, requiring you to call her name twice.

“This is for you.” A simple yet powerful statement as you hand over your present. She bows gently and graciously accepts.