As the season of gifting winds down, there is a tale of pettiness that ticks back into my thoughts often. This story stars my then-wife, who scarcely kept her legs closed for a carousel of colleagues from the few companies she flitted between throughout those five disgraceful years.
In truth, I sought to stage some small-scale sabotage to settle the slight. But I was counselled by the cautious, the cowards, and the chronically concerned to curb my inclinations. Still, there is a particular pride in pulling off one perfectly timed act of petty payback.
Long story short, I left behind a memento when I moved out the marital home. Just a simple clock, with a plain Post-it proclaiming: "For you".
Innocuous to most, but in Chinese culture, gifting a clock is phonetically akin to sending someone off in a coffin, a poetic way to saying "go die". The tart, steeped in such traditions, got the insult instantly. She wasted no time; the accusations of cursing her came in like clockwork.
In response, I simply suggested that if she saw something sinister in my goodwill gesture, maybe her guilty conscience was catching up with her. I could nigh on hear her gears grinding, and I (silently) sniggered at every tick of her growing aggravation.
But the pièce de résistance? I returned to the house and reclaimed the clock, leaving nothing but the note behind. Cue another cacophony of confusion and indignation at the sudden disappearance of her treasured timepiece.
My mom later laid claim to the clock while slyly slipping me some spare change, insisting it was a simple sale instead of a grim gift. And so, ten years on, I can’t help but chuckle whenever the memory ticks back into my thoughts from time to time.
After all, I delivered a well-timed message of symbolic spite, took yet another thing from that tart, and walked away somewhat ‘wealthier’. More significantly, there is no sweeter satisfaction than pulling off some timely passive-aggressive pettiness.