The most promising gift I’ve bought in my life cost me 70 cents. It’s one of those black and white postcards that were so popular in the late ’80s: young, half-naked people lounging in rumpled beds in style. I found the caption particularly charming: “Voucher for an unforgettable night”. With the sex check in the desk drawer, I waited for the right recipient.
It’s been a long time, and since then I’ve learned a lot about vouchers. They come like the most personal gift in the world: Look here, I’m giving you a beautiful experience, alone or with me. But no matter what is written on it – love night or wellness day, visit to a musical or Ayurvedic three-course menu – virtual gifts are a currency with strong exchange rate fluctuations.
They are seldom redeemed quickly. That is when the donor himself can hardly wait for the event (“Two tickets for the Howard Carpendale Comeback Tour? How sweet, Aunt Gisela!”). In classic cases, vouchers wither away over time from a colorful technicolor three-dimensional film in the mind to a piece of cardboard. Typical birthday dialogue among friends: “Great, a voucher for a yoga weekend! When?” “Oh, I’m flexible. tell me when you can Or I’ll call them and ask.”
After that, they both start waiting. Paper is patient, and the voucher is the Buddha among papers. Level two: Both are secretly offended. Typical inner monologues, stage three: “I’ve been googling yoga weekends all afternoon and madam can’t even pick a date.” “Great friend: she just doodles on a postcard and I have to take care of everything.”
It gets logistically complicated, especially after milestone birthdays: several friends often give vouchers at the same time – with the same idea. I have a say in that, three months after my 40th I finally booked the first of three massage appointments. But only in eight weeks. Can I use it with the stress – just because of the four theater vouchers that I have to redeem by July. It’s good that my mother wrote me down an extra helping of babysitting.
Shopping vouchers are easier to use. Even the supermarket I trust offers them. But who is happy about announcements like “Honey, make yourself really nice, buy a pound of organic bananas and a six-pack of beer at my expense”? Others are more charming (cosmetics, furniture), but have their pitfalls. First: You have to drive into town yourself or look for a parking space at Ikea in the northern industrial area. Second: Nothing ever costs 10, 20 or 50 euros there. But always only 8.99 or 62.50. Forfeit it or pay more, that is the question. Then you’d rather have a fuel voucher, because it works with the round sum.
I never gave away the voucher for the unforgettable night. Which doesn’t mean I haven’t seen a few in the past 20 years. It follows from this: many damn nice gifts don’t even cost 70 pfennigs. Exciting sex is part of it. But also a blister plaster that he takes with him on vacation because he already knows that she will buy new shoes on the way. Or a friend calling at just the right moment. The best thing about these gifts: you can’t ask for them for your birthday. They happen to you, without a voucher, and they come from the heart.
