All I want for Christmas is for people to leave me alone



A classic game for any holiday family gathering.

Many people cringe at the thought of the constant calls from Beaverton School District at five in the morning telling students they still have school, the idea of Christmas shopping with soccer moms raging over their 1% off coupons not working, and the ample discussion of Starbucks’ holiday drinks. This year, the Hummer staff compiled a list of reasons we don’t enjoy the holiday season.


As someone working in retail, this makes my life stressful. Many complain about lines at the store, but they’re part of the problem. I know you had to wait ten minutes in line, but you have three items and it would’ve been easier to go to the self-checkout. The person in front of you bought $300’s worth of Christmas decorations, so please don’t get mad at me for taking a long time to ring them up when they also had ten coupons for me to scan. Why do you ask me if I work here when you just saw my nametag? Did you even try to look for what you’re asking me for? It’s inches away from you. I work efficiently and as quickly as possible, answer questions, and try to help as best as I can, so please don’t get mad!

“What do you want for Christmas?”

Mom, I haven’t added anything else to my Amazon wishlist since the last time you asked me 23 minutes ago. I’m 17. I’m happy with red fuzzy socks with pugs on them and nail polish. Maybe a mug with cats in Santa hats. Don’t stress. I’m easy to please.


Family gatherings

No, Carol, I do not have a boyfriend. Yes, I have plans for college, but I don’t want to tell you. No, I’m not worried about the “extra pounds I’m gaining.” Yes, I want seconds and maybe even thirds. I’m 17, and I get hungry. Yes, I’m aware of my grades. Yes, I’m going to graduate. No, I don’t feel like doing my homework right now. Yes, I will sit on this couch all of winter break, and yes, I’ll be on my phone during dinner because everyone is asking the same questions I don’t want to answer.


Oregon gets one instance of snowfall a year, and it’s either catastrophic or 1/9 of an inch with ice. We await the calls from Beaverton School district at 5 am and sit in front of the TV to watch the name of Beaverton High pass by, only to find out the list is already at C schools. So close. No teen has a car that can safely drive in the snow, so you’re alone. Snow looks cute until you touch it. Then it’s wet and your hands are pink and you regret everything and you’re in pain.

Happy holidays!