We had a little Yankee swap at work last week. Weren’t allowed to drink because we’re now part of this uptight group whose idea of casual dress is a mock turtleneck tucked into high-waisted, pleated chinos, but it was still fun and we got to go home early (or go to a bar, as four of us chose instead). There was a $20 limit so I contributed a DVD of the first season of Extras, which is a pretty solid gift if you ask me. So much so that I nearly opened it myself. Most people brought cool stuff like gift cards and alcohol but you know there were some duds, including what I ended up with: the Desk Pets TrekBot Remote Control Robot. It’s this tiny Phantom Menace-like two-wheeled dealy controlled—no shit—by “a unique patent pending five-button USB remote controller and charger.” Patent pending? Holy living fuck, you’d better hurry with that.

At first I opened a pretty excellent gift consisting of a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and a bomber of Stone Smoked Porter, which I mistakenly thought I had drunk and written about earlier in the NFL season as part of my increasingly non-beer and non-football related “beer and football” series. Nevertheless, I could not have been happier. Until someone took it from me. So I opened a super-light gift bag that I hoped would be a gift card and it was, one of those American Express thingies. I was still annoyed until I reached the Homer Simpson conclusion that money can be exchanged for goods and services, so I could get my own beer and wine. Solid.

But then my boss—bearer of the coveted number one and therefore the last person to pick—didn’t take kindly to my mocking the stupid TrekBot she had opened earlier and decided to swap it for the AmEx card. Ride over.

I was New York pissed and I pouted for awhile until noticing the goddamn thing still had a RADIOSHACK $19.99 sticker on it. (Turns out the person who brought it is this weird systems contractor who recently congratulated a coworker on her wedding before adding “Yeah, I was happily married for twenty years before it fell apart.” Thanks?) So I figured I’d try to “return” it and get a store credit and pick out the un-shittiest thing they carry—a real challenge, as you know if you’ve ever stepped inside the store. I am forever covered with every kind of audio/video cable or component imaginable until the next technology wave introduces something new, and even then it will probably be wireless. Then RadioShack will be in some deep shit. This prescient Onion article from 2007 is spot-on from top to bottom—what a ceaselessly baffling operation.

That evening I resigned myself to a quick visit—I figured if I couldn’t swing this deal then I’d bring it to my wife’s family’s Christmas Eve party and maybe toss it into the Yankee swap frenzy there. Luckily it didn’t have to come to that: it was a smooth transaction, and the guy didn’t even ask for my zip code or try to sell me batteries. (I grew up in a small town in central Massachusetts and it was a big deal when we got a RadioShack. It was the only place closer than Leominster or Nashua where a twelve-year-old boy could buy Bill Cosby cassettes, and even at that young age I thought it was odd of them to require my zip. Did they think shoppers were traveling from Los Angeles or something?) I’m thankful to the guy for making it easy for me but it was clear he and the other (male, of course; has a woman ever worked here?) employee were born to be RadioShack salesmen and/or pedophiles. Such an unpleasant people, with greasy hair and cheap Casio watches. I couldn’t be bothered to put my sixteen bucks (thing had gone on sale I guess—shocker!) in store credit to immediate use. I had to leave.

Returning the day after Christmas (during the pre-storm errands I wrote about Wednesday) was a terrific move. The same two degenerate bastards were working again, too, and when I saw the rack of iTunes gift cards my decision was made. (I’m not the biggest fan of iTunes because it behaves horribly even on Leopard, but $25 in downloads is $25 in downloads.) Add it to the additional $75 in iTunes cards I received from family and I’m a pretty happy guy who looks forward to spending it all next week, avoiding $1.29 songs like the plague. This delayed reward had a hiccup yesterday when I couldn’t wait any longer to purchase “The Garden of Earthly Delights” by the United States of America. Would you care to guess what year it came out? You are correct!

So a happy, healthy new year goes out to our sweaty friends at the Shack. We are all better people in comparison, so long as they stick around.