Workers Opt to Give Gifts That Really Count

Like so many office workers, the gang at the Kaiser Permanente Medical Care Program main office on Zion Avenue had faithfully supported the office gift exchange every Christmas, for better or worse.

Every Christmas season, the employees would rattle their brains for a funny or nice gift that could be gotten for under 10 bucks, and try to look pleased and surprised when receiving an equally stupid, insipid or unnecessary gift.

“Oh, what a nice coffee mug!” the recipient would say, wondering privately to himself what to do with his 15th coffee mug. “Oh, what a great book” would say the person who doesn’t even have time to read the Sunday paper. “Oh, I love Creeping Charlies,” would say the person who can’t even keep weeds alive in the kitchen. And so it would go.

A few years ago, one of the office groups at Kaiser wised up. “There were 25 or so of us, and we decided that none of us were getting gifts that we really needed or wanted, so that year we decided to donate food or write a check for the Salvation Army,” said Annette Salinetro, a secretary at Kaiser.

The idea caught on, and other office groups at Kaiser joined in. Last year, the Kaiser clan collected $1,100 in cash and $2,000 in food, clothing and toys, which were donated to nine needy San Diego area families that were identified by a local school principal.

This year, another $1,100 in cash and about $4,000 in gifts and food was collected by the office staff and distributed Monday morning to four senior citizens and nine needy families in the San Diego area. Sort of like loaves and fishes, there were even food and gifts left over for area churches to distribute later in the week.

The project, said Salinetro, may now extend beyond the Christmas season. “The senior citizens seemed more appreciative for having someone visit them than for the gifts themselves,” she said. “So now, there’s talk about adopting these people and staying in touch with them throughout the year.”

Sort of like year-round Christmas presence.

Saving Old Slurp

The other day Leslie Satz of North Park couldn’t get Slurp, her ’68 Olds, to start on its own. Dead battery. So she got it jump-started and ended up at a service garage in downtown San Diego, where she left the keys in the ignition and settled down in the waiting room.

“Then this guy walks up to the car from off the street and starts looking in. I figured he saw the keys and he’s thinking about trying to steal it,” Satz said. Indeed, he got in the car, and she ran outside and confronted the would-be thief as he was turning the ignition key.

“I thought the car might have been for sale, and I wanted to see how it ran,” the guy said shamelessly. He tried again to start the car and looked frustrated. She threatened to call the police and after a third turn of the ignition, he gave up and walked off after getting in the last word:

“Anyway, lady, it’s a lousy piece of junk.”

“The only thing that bothers me is, I wonder whose car he did steal,” she said. Pen Pals Go Video

Pen pals have taken on a new dimension in this, the video generation. Some of the first- and fifth-graders at Miller Elementary School in Escondido are communicating with their counterparts at Big Lake, Alaska, (an hour’s drive east of Anchorage) not only with letters but with video cassettes.

The video-taped messages are not intended to supplant the letters but are meant to better bond the children, inspiring even more correspondence because they will better relate to their pen pals by being able to visualize them, said Paula Scull, a first-grade teacher at Miller.

The first-graders, she said, were startled by what they saw on video: Their Alaskan tele-pals bundled up for the winter because it’s 20 degrees below zero outside their classroom; their playground is a hockey rink. In contrast, the tape that was sent north showed the local youngsters playing outside on swing sets, in shorts and T-shirts.

The fifth-graders, said teacher Marisa Wise, were intrigued by the Alaskan brand of language, including references to “the lower 48,” walking to school in the dark and “going outside” (leaving Alaska) for vacation.

Part of the Alaska-bound tape showed local campus activities and the lay of the land; the second half featured the first-graders being interviewed, on camera, by their fifth-grade tutors.

There’s no risk, Wise said, in the video camera replacing pencil and paper.

“The first-graders were intimidated by the camera,” she said. “They said it looked like a monster. They actually communicated better when they dictated their letters to the older children to write.” ’Are You a Jerk?’

There’s Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous and Overeaters Anonymous, and now Joe Vecchio is forming Jerks Anonymous.

The ad in the Reader, the weekly newspaper, says, “Are you a jerk? Do you want to stop being one but don’t know how? Our club needs you. Phone 275-1131.”

Vecchio said he’s received a bunch of queries about membership applications, including whether people can nominate their bosses. Yes they can, he said.

He’s unsure about dues but is talking about a newsletter and a lifetime membership card that suggests, of course, that maybe you can never be cured of being a jerk but can at least learn to control it.

Vecchio said: “The first step is in admitting that you’re a jerk. Then you have to have the desire to stop. The problem is, there are a lot of people out there who don’t realize they’re jerks. They really need our help.”