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My brother, the millionaire who always is flying to some exotic locale to play golf, is the world's worst gift giver.
In our family, we all draw names so we're not all combing the malls for days buying gifts for everybody. Instead, each person is supposed to get a nice gift that involves some degree of thought. Pretty sensible, wouldn't you agree?
Well, seven years ago, my brother drew my name and gave me a old kitchen scale. Mind you, it wasn't really an antique or anything. It was just an old kitchen scale. Three years ago, he gave me a ceramic piggy bank and left the $16 price tag on it. Last year, he gave my nephew a used paperback book.
Don't get me wrong. I don't want or need an expensive gift. But if you're going to give me something, at least give me something that might speak to who I am--not some random thing plucked off a shelf.
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