From a Gift Card's Point of View

The owner, Mr. Kingitus, always carried some grandeur, towering above in his gray suit, hair dramatically disheveled, a modicum of madness in the eyes. But I guess everything looks grand from the bottom shelf of the gift card stand, the rack which I’ve occupied for six months, and frankly – I don’t think it will ever change, well, maybe only if Mr. Kingitus will have a mental breakdown and tear us all to tiny pieces and scatter those around the whole Mall.

“All you need is right there,” he encouraged a newcomer, a dark-haired girl in a gray sweater that looked more like a dress. “You have a cash register, card terminal, and, of course, our magnificent product – gift cards of all kinds.”

“And that’s where the magic occurs. Are you as excited as I am, partner?”

“Oh yes. Very much.” The gum-chewing partner assured.

“Excellent! I like you already. And as an owner of the Cards on the Table, I welcome you to our ranks. We proudly hold the number one seller in this country. But what do we sell?”

“Hmm, gift cards?”

Mr. Kingitus politely ignores and goes on.

“Pure joy, chopped and wrapped! Double-edged happiness, both for a giver and a receiver. These beams of light penetrate the darkest apathy.”

Well, those three-figure beams shine brightly in the books, I suppose.

“We have everything here, full range: from the diving depths to the gliding heights, from the sweet thickness of hot chocolate to the luxurious splendor of a five-star hotel, from the absolute calm of a meditation séance with Indian yogi to the breathtaking velocity of a NASCAR bolide with a national titleholder!”

He said it all in one breath. Always does. Always works too.

Even the gum-chewing halted.

“It’s always about the recipient: who, where, how old? What do they order for a birthday table? Do they take the garbage out? Do they show up late, do they cry at night, do they add salt to the morning coffee? The recipient is a wild card. Can be anybody.”

The chewing resumed, albeit with a slightly curious overtone.

“Now, your turn, partner. Three characters just showed up.”

“Really?”

“Imaginary, for now.”

“O-okay.”

“The first one needs a gift card for his nephew, a kid who recently lost both parents. Ideas?”

“Hmm… I guess the kid would love a Jacuzzi bath.”

“His parents drowned in the Jacuzzi bath.”

“Oh… spending the day with the huskies?”

“Their dog drowned with them.”

“Degustation at the ice cream factory?”

“Had tonsillitis, nearly suffocated.”

“Well… do we have a card for inducing amnesia?”

Mr. Kingitus really takes a pause to rummage through his mental catalog.

“Nope, I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway. So, just get the kid to the movies! Full day pack for two, plus free popcorn. You even get an X-Men badge.”

“Duly noted. I mean, the whole idea, not just the badge.”

“The next one should find something for her friend who suffers from depression.”

“Dinner at an Italian restaurant?”

“She binge ate all the gelato at the nearest store and wouldn’t even look at the food.”

“Saturday at the SPA center?”

“She can’t get out of her bed.”

“Escape room quest?”

“She can’t escape her own room! Let alone the quest.”

“Maybe let’s get some human-porters-services card then!”

“Good shot. But I’d go with a Lamborghini test drive.”

“But you said she won’t get out of the bed!”

“She could have all the borderline depressive dissociations in the world, but one look at that gorgeous vermillion beauty… Just look at her... Case closed!”

Even the king of the gift cards has his weaknesses.

“Third one. Her uncle is diagnosed with cancer and has one month left.”

“Oh… a quad rally… a photo shoot… an italian res…”

A threatening shadow is spreading across Mr. Kingitus’s face. Think!

“Adrenaline-X super pack. Parachutes, bungy jumping, sunken ship, F1 racing. Let's raise hell.”

A shadow dissipates. Mr. Kingitus nodes approvingly. Surefire shot.

“Now, what would be the card for a person you love most?”

“An evening for two at the ultra-fashionable hotel, all-in.”

“Classy. And the card for a person you hate most?”

“Dance class. With a full audience.”

“You are merciless.”

“He deserves it.”

“Alright, I think we are going to work well together. Just don’t worry, and always pay attention. You might hear some curious request here and there.”

“Like what?”

“I will give you a couple from my own experience.”

"Wow." 

“The gal who bought nine diving sessions with complete equipment near the sunken ship. Probably going for a treasure hunt.”

“Or the guy was looking for a card for his colleague, who happens to be – he kept stressing that - considerably obese. After he said it ten times, I suggested we rule out balloons, paraplanes, and maybe even the military helicopter – why run unnecessary risks? The guy just left.”

“Aha. And any, like, red flags I should pay attention to?”

“Well, when a pumped-up guy shows up, takes 15 cards to the shooting gallery visit, 7 for the extreme driving course, and a tour for two to the city bank on Saturday – what do you do?”

“Call 911?”

“Why would you do that? No, what you do is some thinking! So much activity and not even a lunch? I’ve suggested some upper-class Chinese joint, and voila - the offer gratefully accepted. Moral - always keep some lovely complementary card up your sleeve.”

“Will do, Mr. Kingitus.”

“I will leave you to it, partner. Stay positive and play your cards right.”

I doubt that even Mr. Kingitus, with his endless enthusiasm and all that FBI questionnaire thing, might ever get me sold. And all because someone’s wicked mind imagined that the gift ticket for a postcards museum might be also the ticket to the ranks of the most original guests ever.

Dead wrong.

I hope they fire that genius.

I hope he goes to that damn museum and gets locked up for good.

Mr. Kingitus is a passionate one, no doubt. But he is too focused on the people who come to buy a gift; being too busy with those who will receive it, he does not see those who won’t. In his infinite care for those about to receive a present, he unwillingly neglects those who don’t.

Well, I might fill some gaps.

We are sometimes approached like nothing but trinkets, funny but futile, the needless links to real pleasures, a mere convenience of the city life, a time-saving option when you are in a rush and have, just have to catch that gift on the run from the bank to the subway, phone in one hand, latte venti in another.

The girl is taking money and handing us back. Elegant, don’t you find? Exchanging a piece of paper for, well, another piece of paper, a brief flap of those little paper wings, and somewhere in the future, the storm of emotions is born, fierce and jubilant.

If you had a discourteous thought that the piece of plastic should be less eloquent, know that I am deadly offended and won’t even consider talking to you again. Alright, my batch was printed in the publishing houses when they primarily do fiction. Apparently the neighborhood of books, even the briefest, tends to leave a profound imprint.

The rightly chosen gift card can mean a lot.

The one that suddenly strikes a spark in the dead eyes, shoots the shock through the nerves and pumps blood up the arteries.

The trick is to choose. Which card will force the receiver to take a peek, to give a thought? One glance - and curiosity infiltrates the mind, which was a minute ago clouded with depression and darkness, and while the mind itself is still looking for a reason to resist, the hand is already ordering Uber, the leg is already stepping onto that adventurous path.

Forgive the drama. They’ve printed some YA novels on the parallel line.

If I had a mouth, I would scream.

If I had turned my polymer dreams into reality, I would finally see all those gifters and receivers who give and receive in the endless dance, below the blessed fireworks of our coruscating envelopes. 

Just get over here! Make a choice, tear the envelope, but stitch somebody’s heart. There are so many to.

And here we wait, just one step away, glowing portals to other worlds, the tiniest carton doors waiting to burst ourselves open to another Alice.

The key is to pick the right card at the right moment.

I like to think how my sisters might shift the entire trajectory of human life.

Let’s see a few what-ifs.

That mooching boy receives a visit to the Science and Technology Expo, and suddenly, behind the flat formal flow of the classes, something vivid and beautiful manifests… endless nights amid the books and notepads, and one day he enrolls to the top-notch University.

That teenager, dying for adrenaline shot, peering down to the arresting abyss from skyscrapers roofs, and suddenly he finds the freedom of flight with a proud paraglider; suddenly, he does not need the skyscraper roof anymore.

That tired lady, eyes sunken deep, hands shaking. Who knew she only needed the séance at the Marine SPA, with waterfalls of salty water scintillating around and gentle bubbles calming her exhausted body – and she smiles again as she meets her little girl after school.

That young man is on the edge of a cruel, heartbreaking call in one moment, and in the next, he leaves with a romantic evening card in his hand, anger melting in his eyes, the warmth of the upcoming hours taking its place.

There was a lady, as if from another time, exquisite black cloak, pale lips, a barrel of a gun already reflected in her eyes, thin fingers pulling imaginary triggers slowly. Almost comically, a tour at the shooting gallery gave her a safe discharge, sparing the world of another tragedy.

A bullied kid, iron already clinging in his backpack with every doomed step, graveyard dirt already crunching on his teeth, but at the last moment, the young actors’ studio welcomes him for an introductory lesson. He suddenly sees the world is far more spacious than the shallow confines of the classroom.

Would you say now that we are only pieces of plastic?

That girl with her make-up dripping down, mixed with tears. Ironically, she gets a make-up classes card. I imagine now she is at some movie set, and no silent tears drop down from her eyes anymore.

Undergraduate from the movie school, consuming coffees as if attempting suicide by a heart attack, desperate to come up with ideas for graduation short (all silly!)– and here he is the next day, shaking with terror and excitement in the newest escape room in the city, bloody tiles and rusty chains and surgical chairs fertilizing his mind with shots and mise-en-scenes.

That school teacher, she came here on dates, a fancy smile on her face, hidden anguish in her eyes, her nervous laughter bursting out uncontrollably, she would even leap sometimes as she was not physically able to be there anymore. Guess who gets her very first exhibition next week, and all it took was a voucher for aquarelle painting lessons.

The bank teller from the Mall’s branch, the way he walked to that office every morning… A convict walks to the gallows more cheerfully. And now you can try his from-the-chef dishes in the French restaurant on the celestial fifth floor. All it took was the pass for cooking courses.

Those are all the stories that could happen. I hope someday I see they did.

And I think I might, for I am probably destined to stay here forever. How can I even stand a chance among those shining, luxurious, marvelous, challenging choices? You have the ride with exclusive Ferrari at your left and Michelin-three repast at your right, and here I am – dwarfed by bazooka shootings and ATV motocrosses, dangling here like a sad joke, like a gold standard of true uselessness against which the incredible adventures all around can be measured.

I am alright, I am hanging in there, observing the vortex of fate around.

Still, at the end of the day, when the lights are out, and the Mall is submerged into melancholic blue of the nocturnal illumination, I long for a purpose.

For ultimately, we, the gift cards, dream of a moment when we finally become the true gifts, when the giver finds the receiver and for a brief moment they unite in one touch through our synthetic bodies, and we can catch a glimpse of happy eyes, reflected in the subtle gloss of our plastic frames, to feel the fervent fingers trembling with excitement, when the adventure is about to begin.