Sam Venable  

Department of Irony

Whenever Christmas rolls around, fear and trembling run rampant among men. 

This angst has nothing to do with the impending arrival of out-of-town guests, ingestion of old family recipes that should have been purged generations earlier, or decorating chores involving knots of twinkling lights last untangled during the Eisenhower administration. 

Instead, it has everything to do with wrapping presents. 

Shopping is bad enough for those of us of the Y-chromosome persuasion. We never know what to buy, nor are we particularly adept at taking subtle hints. (For Pete’s sake, what wife, daughter, or sister wouldn’t want to find a new shotgun, chain saw, or cordless drill under the tree?) Try as we might, we rarely wind up with the appropriate item. It’s one of the curses of being a guy. 

But regardless of how carefully/carelessly we acquire gifts, that’s merely Step One on the road to failure. Step Two is making them presentable. “Presentable” in estrogen circles, that is. 

As far as men are concerned, “presentable” covers a vast territory meaning “more or less in working condition.” 

It’s a matter of practicality. When one man asks another to “toss me that nine-sixteenths wrench, will’ya?” that’s precisely what he means. Pitch it over here, and I’ll catch it and use it. He does not intend for the wrench to be offered up on a platter like pheasant under glass. 

Men take the same no-nonsense approach with gift wrap. Frankly, we see no need for it. If shrink-wrap was good enough for the manufacturer, it’s good enough for us. 

Nonetheless, sentimentality does overtake us in late December, and we foolishly attempt to sheathe the goods with gaily colored paper and bows. Invariably, all we do is make a mess. 

I remember once, as a boy, going with my mother to a department store and watching one of the sales clerks gift wrap a present. 

(Historical note for anyone under the age of 40: Stores provided this service, either free or at minimal cost, back then. They also hired enough staff to help you carefully select your purchases and check them out in a timely manner. Think about that the next time you’re standing behind 17 people in the three checkout lanes – out of 25 – that are actually open.) 

With sheets of floral paper and streamers of ribbon, she transformed a simple box into a work of art. 

Note I said “she.” Men cannot complete this task with any degree of skill. 

Perhaps there’s a difference in the muscular structure of male and female hands. Men’s fingers may be deft enough to perform heart bypass surgery, or lay a line of bricks straight as a laser beam, or carve intricate designs into walnut; but we cannot fold the edges of wrapping paper neatly, tape the ends discreetly, and anoint the creation with an ornate bow. 

Instead, what we wind up with looks like it was assembled by committees working in Iowa, Texas, Oregon, and Virginia and communicating by Morse code. This explains why, on the eighth day, God created the gift bag. 

And He saw that it was good. 

Sam Venable is an author, stand-up comedian, and humor columnist for The Knoxville (TN) News Sentinel. He may be reached at sam.venable@outlook.com.