My employees put me on blast online, calling me a Scrooge for not giving out holiday gift baskets.

What the internet didn't know was that my company has one, single, unbreakable tradition for every holiday, every employee birthday: a crisp 3333-7777,000 Visa gift card. No exceptions.

As the whole internet was calling for my head, I decided to give them exactly what they wanted. I sent out a company-wide memo: "To honor our cherished holiday traditions, the gift card program will be discontinued this year. In its place, all employees will receive a festive holiday gift basket."

The memo dropped. The office exploded. A mob of my employees was suddenly camped outside my door, begging me to bring back the gift cards.

1

The holidays were just around the corner, and you could feel that festive buzz in the office air.

I had my assistant bring in the stack of gift cards. It was a thick brick of plastic and potential. This has been our thing since day one. Every major holiday, every birthday, you get a thousand bucks on a Visa card. Do what you want with it.

Chloe, our new marketing intern, poked her head up from her cubicle, a tiny wrinkle in her nose. She eyed the stack of cards in my assistants hands.

"Wait, a company this big doesn't even do holiday gift baskets?"

She said it just loud enough for the whole open-plan office to hear.

Sarah, a veteran on the team, immediately tugged on her sleeve. "Chloe, honey, the thousand-dollar gift card *is* the gift," she whispered. "It's way better than a basket of stale popcorn. You're new, you don't know."

Another colleague chimed in. "Yeah, I used last year's for a down payment on a new MacBook. Beats a branded mug any day."

"Oh, *really*?" Chloe drew out the words, her voice dripping with Gen-Z irony. "A card is a card, but a gift basket is a gesture. If you can't even be bothered to get a basket, it shows you don't care. The intentionality is missing, you know?"

The air went thick. Sarah and the other guy just kind of shrank back into their chairs.

Later that afternoon, a knock on my office door. It was Chloe, clutching a tablet. "Alex? Got a sec? I wanted to touch base about our corporate culture initiatives."

I nodded.

She stepped in, closing the door behind her, a practiced, professional smile plastered on her face.

"Alex, I just feel like, as an industry leader, we could really be leveling up our brand synergy when it comes to employee engagement."

"Go on," I said, leaning back.

"Take the holidays, for instance. The gift card is great, totally. But it feels a little transactional. Its missing that warmth, that sense of tradition. If we supplemented the card with a curated holiday gift basket for every employee, it would be a much stronger demonstration of the company's human-centric values."

I stared at her, trying not to laugh.

"Our tradition," I said slowly, "is to put the power of choice directly into our employees' hands. With a thousand dollars, you can buy a hundred gift baskets if you want. Or you can buy a plane ticket to see your family. Or fix your car. That, to me, is infinitely more 'human-centric' than forcing a box of peppermint bark on someone who hates peppermint."

The smile on Chloe's face froze.

"Alex, that's not what I meant. I'm talking about a dual-track approach. A simultaneous emotional and material incentive."

I cut her off. "I only know one thing. Putting real money in my employees' pockets and trusting them to use it for what they truly need is the greatest sign of respect I can show them."

She just stood there, speechless for a second, before forcing out a tight, "It was just a suggestion."

She turned and walked out, her footsteps just a little too loud.

I didn't think much of it. Just a new kid, eager to make her mark. When I started this company, we were working out of a garage. I couldn't pay those first few employees what they were worth, and I've felt indebted to them ever since. So, once we made it, I made sure our benefits were the best in the business. I wanted to build a place where people could make a good living with dignity.