I started a new job this month. On Friday, I found out that our office organizes a huge Secret Santa exchange, and we were all expected to bring a gift worth $100. I told my boss I wouldn’t be able to participate.When I arrived at the office on Monday, I saw a bright, oversized gift bag sitting right in the center of my desk, tied with a massive gold bow that seemed to mock my empty bank account. The job was at a high-end marketing firm in downtown Chicago, a place where people wore shoes that cost more than my monthly rent. I had been unemployed for four months before landing this role as a junior copywriter.

My savings were completely drained, and I was currently living on ramen noodles and sheer willpower until my first paycheck arrived. A $100 Secret Santa buy-in wasn’t just an inconvenience; it was a physical impossibility for me. My boss, a man named Sterling who always looked like he was about to step onto a yacht, had seemed disappointed when I pulled him aside on Friday.He told me the Secret Santa was a “cornerstone of their corporate synergy” and that it was a tradition everyone looked forward to. I felt about two inches tall explaining that I simply didn’t have the funds to join in this year. He had just nodded, adjusted his cufflinks, and said he’d “make a note of it.”