At the time I didn't feel I had done anything wrong. I'm still not sure I did anything wrong. I kind of think I did something right.
But I could be wrong.
That holiday season I'd traveled out of town with my parents to visit relatives, and we all celebrated New Year's Eve together at the home of a family friend. This was someone I'd never met before. She was very nice, very friendly, very Persian.
It was your typical New Year's Eve party. At least it was for most of the night. There was lots of good food, lots of fun conversation. We all gathered in front of the TV at 11:59:50 to count down the final seconds of 2015, and we all cheered wildly when the ball dropped, signaling the start of a new year.
Everyone was feeling great, myself included.
And then the host did something that caught me completely off-guard: She handed out money to all of the guests. Five dollars. Per guest. She pressed a bill into my hand and said, "Happy New Year!"
I clutched the bill and stared at it for a solid minute. I thought of all the different things I could do with it. I don't mean all the different ways I could spend it. I mean all the different ways I could dispatch of it. I could return it to the host. I could hide it behind a couch pillow. I could flush it down the toilet. I could leave it in the mailbox on the way out. I could dig a hole in the backyard and bury it. The possibilities were endless.
The one thing I absolutely was not going to do with it, though, was keep it. I just didn't feel comfortable accepting money from someone I didn't know very well. Perhaps if it had been my New Year's resolution to accept more money from people I didn't know very well, I would've been more comfortable with the whole situation. But I'd made no such resolution.
Ultimately, I placed the bill on a small table in the living room as we said our goodbyes. I was very discreet about it. To this day I have no idea if the host knows I'm the one who left the bill there. It might still be on that table, for all I know.
The morning after the party, I told my family what I'd done. I don't think I could ever disappoint them more than I did in that moment.
"WHAT?! Shane!! Why did you do that?"
"I don't know, I felt weird about it."
"It was a gift!"
"It wasn't wrapped. A gift is wrapped."
And on and on it went for the next 10 minutes, though the passage of time hasn't resolved much. We have this same argument every New Year's Eve. My family's point, which they've articulated in one form or another over and over again: If someone gives you something, you should accept it and be grateful.
(Update: After I published this blog entry, one family member emailed me to note that it's Persian tradition to hand out money on New Year's. It is a Persian tradition ... on the Persian New Year. And the money is usually for children.)
(Update: After I published this blog entry, one family member emailed me to note that it's Persian tradition to hand out money on New Year's. It is a Persian tradition ... on the Persian New Year. And the money is usually for children.)
I mentioned this story to someone at a New Year's Eve party last night. His response: "I would've taken the money!"
Who knows, maybe there really was nothing to feel weird about, and maybe I should have taken the money. My goal for this year is to score another New Year's invite to that home so I can check the table for my $5 bill. I'll reevaluate my decision then.
