By Marco Shalma

There’s a unique kind of New York pain that hits when someone hands you a Christmas gift you didn’t ask for, don’t want, and will never use. We smile. We nod. We pretend. But inside, we’re already saying the line every New Yorker knows by heart: If I wanted this, I would’ve bought it myself. And if I can’t afford it, you definitely weren’t getting it for me.

Every December becomes a parade of “thoughtful” nonsense. Gourmet popcorn tin the size of a toddler. Socks with slogans. A candle that smells like a dentist’s office. A mug shaped like a snowman suffering from body dysmorphia. Why do people shop like they met us five minutes ago?

Here’s the reality: New Yorkers live in apartments the size of coat closets. Space is value. Storage is luxury. If you hand us something that takes up room without improving our lives, congratulations, you’ve gifted us a problem.

So let’s talk options.

Real options.

New York options.

Re-gifting? Please. That’s not shady. That’s ecosystem management. Everyone in this city participates in the annual gift shuffle. You take the thing you hate and redirect it to someone who once sent you a Venmo request for $4.28. Balance restored.

Returning it? Strong move. You take that useless box back to the store, trade it in for something edible, drinkable, or wearable without shame. A real New Yorker will walk into a store with no receipt and enough attitude to get store credit for a product they didn’t even buy there.

Repurpose it.

Turn the weird candle into a doorstop.

Turn the ugly scarf into a rag for wine spills.

Turn the novelty mug into a coin holder for laundry because that’s all it was ever meant to be.

Weaponize it.

Seriously. Try walking through Times Square with a pointy gift poking out of your bag. People move.

Donate it.

Salvation Army, Housing Works, the random thrift shop run by someone’s aunt. Boom. Your bad gift becomes someone else’s “Oh wow, what a find.” You become a holiday philanthropist by accident.

But let’s talk about the deeper truth — the one New Yorkers feel but rarely say.

Most bad gifts come from people who don’t listen.

People who ask, “What do you want?” and then buy whatever was closest to the register.

People who think gifting is about completing a task, not actually knowing someone.

Here’s what we want:

Food.

Time.

Warmth.

A bottle we can open with friends.

A meal we don’t have to cook.

A night off.

Something that makes the grind a little less heavy.

Not a puzzle.

Not a novelty flute.

Not a bath set that smells like anxiety.

So if you receive something terrible this year, don’t stress. You’re not ungrateful.

You’re a New Yorker who understands value.

And you know exactly what to do with that gift.