Who buys the most thoughtful presents: Poet, economist, or public servant?

Paying attention counts more than perfect wrapping. Thoughtful gifts aren’t about price or flash… so, who gives the most thoughtful presents?

First published in the Mandarin.

As Christmas nears, bringing a month of excessive advertising and guilt-driven personal excess, it might be time for a quiet rebellion on how we approach the gift-giving season. We could remind ourselves that thoughtful gift-giving involves noticing and paying attention to others. 

Christmas gift-giving now feels like an elaborate social test. An annual check on how well we have paid attention to the people we say we care about. We all feel the social pressure to get it right, but no one talks about it. Our anxiety is wrapped in festive paper and tagged.

The tag itself is a test. Should we write ‘Merry Christmas’ or the more relaxed ‘Merry Xmas’? Is ‘Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year’ trying to squeeze too many wishes into one? Is ‘Wishing you all the joys of the season!’ a bit American and over the top? ‘Happy Holidays’ seems dull and joyless. Every phrase is a loaded social choice. 

Concerns about phrasing for a Christmas tag come later in the process. Before we get caught up in the verbiage of greetings, we face the real challenge: choosing the gift itself. This is where our emotional intelligence, observational skills, and self-awareness are tested. 

It’s not about what we buy, but what we notice. Because we don’t just swap objects at Christmas; we send messages about who we think others are, and sometimes, who we hope to be to them.  

Some people tackle the gift-buying ritual with pre-planned, spreadsheet-enabled enthusiasm, while for others, panic buying in the final 48 (or less) hours before Christmas is an unavoidable part of the routine. 

To learn more about thoughtful gift-giving, we will examine three archetypal gift-givers: the poet, the economist, and the public servant. Each approaches gift-giving differently, which shapes what they choose, how they select it, and what their gift ultimately conveys.

This could help us move away from valuing gifts by who spends the most, who has the flashiest wrapping paper, or who organises logistics most effectively. The aim is to focus on: what really goes into buying a thoughtful Christmas gift?

To answer it, we must briefly step into the mind of the poet, the economist, and the public servant.

The poet

For our poet, Christmas is a time to explore the beauty of human connections. Receiving a gift from a poet is like getting an enchanted object from someone who won’t explain what it does but knows that, if you’re open to it, you’ll find the key to unlock its meaning. 

A poet approaches gift-giving with a single guiding principle: the gift must be emotionally meaningful. It doesn’t need to be practical, sensible, or ‘dishwasher safe’.

Always unwrap a gift from a poet carefully. Take your time to consider whether its meaning is metaphorical or literal, or whether, with some mental gymnastics, you could understand it as both. Approach the object with mindful reverence. Let a range of responses cross your features. The poet will be watching anxiously.

A poet remembers what you mentioned in April. You vaguely said that as a child, you loved the smell of rain on hot pavement. On Christmas morning, you find a gift with a tag that reads, ‘For the storms you’ve outgrown’. You open a small ceramic jar labelled Olfactory Echoes, re-examine the gift tag, and still don’t understand its meaning, but you love the sentiment. The poet gives you a hint, you connect with the thought, and you experience a sudden, unexplainable surge of joy. That moment is the poet’s gift. 

The poet reminds you of something you’ve forgotten or didn’t realise was there. They show you that someone has truly been listening to you. The gift speaks to the hidden part of yourself that nobody else noticed, but the poet saw.

The poet gives gifts that feel genuine, even if they’re, in practical terms, useless. A hand-bound journal made from recycled maps of places you’ve mentioned before. A vintage typewriter with a nearly dead ribbon, with a note saying ‘So your words arrive imperfectly, like all beautiful things’. A framed black-and-white photo of a bench they believe is waiting for you in a life you haven’t yet lived. With the poet, the possibilities are endless.

But there’s always a risk in getting a gift from a poet.

The poet shares memories and experiences, paying less attention to practicalities. It’s worth noting that a thoughtful and practical Christmas gift could have been a fine pen; however, the poet instead opts for a handwritten book of poems that reflect on loneliness and solitude.

A poet’s gift always leaves a lasting impression. Whether it brought you joy, confusion, or prompted inward reflection, you genuinely experienced something. After all, Christmas is a time to reflect on family, friends, and relationships.

The economist

If the poet gives gifts that convey feeling, the economist gives gifts that stand on four sturdy legs. 

The economist approaches Christmas as a structured decision problem. Their questions are not emotional; they are practical. You will never get scented candles, novelty socks, or quirky curiosities from an economist. Their gifts serve a purpose. Their gifts come with instructions. Their gifts include warranties.

An economist’s gift shows a different kind of affection and thoughtfulness that is just as attentive as the poet’s. It simply begins from a different place. 

The economist’s affection is shown through their focus on need, not sentiment. They follow the doctrine of revealed preference: what you do is more important than what you say.

The economist has watched what you do, spotted inefficiencies, seen opportunities for you, and chosen a gift that subtly guides you towards your unstated but desired goal.

Imagine you once complained about neck pain at work. On Christmas morning, the economist doesn’t give you a neck pillow; instead, they offer an ergonomically designed, posture-correcting, Scandinavian-engineered standing desk. It perfectly addresses the problem. It also weighs 50 kilograms, requires an Allen key, and will cost you two friendships during assembly.

But it wasn’t an impulsive buy. It was chosen because the economist considered what you needed today and offered an efficient, durable, and future-proof solution.

You might say you’d love a romantic weekend away, but the economist notices your search history shows a persistent interest in ‘Top 10 vacuum cleaners for pet owners’. Guess what you’re getting? A Dyson, wrapped in no-nonsense paper.

This is where the economist shines. Thoughtfulness comes from analysis. They identify your needs in the data and notice when you are not meeting them. They observe your behaviour, much like Jane Goodall studied gorillas.

The downside? Economists often assume that usefulness and happiness are the same. They forget that sometimes a person needs a touch of frivolity and silliness, not just efficiency. Sometimes, you want a beautiful, impractical scarf that makes you smile every time you touch it.

Economists often give you gifts that reward you much later, usually weeks or months down the track, when you finally see how much easier your life has become.

The public servant

If the poet offers gifts of meaning and the economist provides solutions, the public servant offers appropriate gifts.

A public servant doesn’t ask, ‘What does this person secretly yearn for?’ nor ‘What will maximise lifetime utility?’ Instead, they ask a more demanding question: ‘What gift honours our relationship without distorting it?

They understand better than anyone that gifts are signals woven into the social fabric. A gift can foster intimacy, uphold hierarchy, or, by accident, reveal hostility. Unlike the poet, who risks emotional overreach, and the economist, who risks cold practicality, the public servant navigates Christmas like a diplomat with an eye on nurturing a lasting relationship. The public servant navigates nuance with careful pragmatism. 

Public servants notice the details most people miss: the brand of tea you prefer, the stationery you collect, the type of socks you wear on stressful days, and the book you picked up twice but didn’t take home.

Their gifts are often simple, but thoughtful: a notebook with paper that perfectly suits your handwriting style, gloves in the right size, or a cookbook with recipes from your grandmother’s region.

Not dramatic. Not expensive. But perfectly crafted.

Where the poet declares, ‘You are the moon wrapped in sorrow,’ the public servant says, ‘You always seem to lose your gloves on buses. Try these.’ It is affection disguised as practical attentiveness.

The public servant gives gifts that show they have noticed the less glamorous sides of your life. Their gifts help ease friction, reduce hassles, or bring comfort.

Their gifts are thoughtful, not because they are imaginative or efficient, but because they are appropriate, kind, and in tune with your context — qualities designed to foster good relationships.

What does this say about thoughtful gift-giving?

After a year of noise, uncertainty, and chaos peppered with performance metrics, optimisation initiatives, efficiency drives, productivity targets, and the ever-present cutbacks, downsizing, and euphemistic rightsizing, the thoughtful gift is an oasis of genuine human connection in a dull, bland, and confusing world. A thoughtful gift shows I paid attention, I remembered, and you matter to me.

If Christmas reveals character, it also shows this: the society we long for isn’t built by poets, economists, or public servants, but by people who simply pay attention to others and remember what matters most. Then they carefully wrap their gift with thoughtfulness before passing it on.

Perhaps the deeper revelation has nothing to do with Christmas. 

By elevating the thoughtful giver, we move beyond the commercial crassness to show that we are more interested in attention than spectacle or practicality. We don’t want to be mythologised or analysed. We simply want to be noticed.

Thoughtfulness can be overlooked when we’re overwhelmed with information. A meaningful gift isn’t about what’s on special, but about what best reflects what someone has noticed about us. It’s not merely another item that eventually gets tucked away in the cupboard, but a moment you enjoy reliving and retelling. 

We each start from a different place in our gift-giving journey. If we define a thoughtful person as someone who genuinely considers who the other person truly is, then the poet sees the secret you, the economist meets your needs, and the public servant reminds you of the relationship. All are paying attention.

Perhaps we should remember how children give gifts — thoughtfully and kindly. When accepting gifts, we should take the time to acknowledge the kindness and thoughtfulness behind them. After all, even ‘socks and jocks’ are given thoughtfully.

Merry Christmas!