I came to work here ten years ago,
You and I became chummy after Sharla was let go. 
She effed up that project we had to finish on her behalf. 
We said snarky things about her and made each other laugh. 
Next thing I knew we were forwarding each other emails,
‘He replied-all? What an idiot, now there’s a paper trail!’ 
I learned it was your birthday when a card was passed around in a folder.
Since it was public, I just wrote, ‘Congrats on getting older!
I hope you have a great day, girl, you deserve the best!’
But when my big day came, there was an actual gift on my desk.
The tiny cardboard rectangle: $20 of Starbucks products it was worth.
And so it began, our epic gift card back-and-forth. 
When Christmas came a few months later, my mission was clear,
A twenty dollar gift card to Starbucks for celebratory cheer. 
For the next several years, we rolled just like this,
On each of our birthdays and on every Christmas:
A twenty dollar gift card to that caffeinated corporation,
Placed conspicuously on any surface of our standard workstation. 
You got me a Starbucks gift card for twenty dollars when I turned thirty-three,
And we exchanged Starbucks gift cards for twenty dollars the day before each Christmas leave. 
On your twenty-ninth birthday, I ordered a latte and selected a card with the cutest design. 
“Twenty,” I told the barista, then smiled proudly at the other customers waiting in line. 
We relied on it, and expected it, and always predicted it. 
“Oh my gosh, thank you,” we said as we tucked cards into wallets. 

But this Christmas, everything changed, to my great dismay,
‘Treat yourself extra good on this holiday!’
The cute scribe I recognized, but not the dollar amount that you wrote; 
For a second I thought it was a mistake, or that you were playing a joke. 
The value of that card had gone up by twenty-five percent,
With no consultation or consideration of my holiday budget. 
Did you get a promotion or something? I didn’t understand why things had changed. 
What was wrong with our historical gift card price range? 
Were you expecting me to now give you five more bucks, too? 
I couldn’t ask you this because that would be like I lacked gratitude. 
Ten extra bucks total a year I’d now have to gift.
If I stayed with the old amount, a big fallout I’d risk.  
“She’s such a cheap B,” you’d tell all the girls. 
Then they’d come up to me all, “Hey, hon, we have some concerns.
Are you having a hard time, like, with money or something?
We noticed you haven’t gotten a haircut for a while, and we heard you’re brown-bagging.” 
“Oh gosh, no!” I’d deflect, all red in the face. 
“I’m good, super good! In fact, I’ll buy you all lunch at that nice sushi place.” 
I’d talk it over there, and explain about what you did with our gift card amounts, 
“So, you see, she just did it behind my back!” I’d recount. 
Then they’d relay it to you and you’d confront me with that tone you use when you’re defensive.
I never told you, but sometimes you can be kind of cold and aggressive. 
From there, it would escalate, next thing you know we’d be yelling. 
Because you changed the gift card amount, and didn’t even bother to tell me.

So, you can see that the only answer is for me to quit working here. 
I hand my notice to our boss, who looks at it kind of weird. 
“Hostile environment,” I explain when he asks me for a reason. 
He sighs and says “I wish you could stay through the holiday season. 
It’s our busiest time; we never replaced Sharla, as you know.
Is there anything I can do to convince you not to go?” 
I pause for a moment before I give my final answer. 
“No, but there’s a troublemaker here,” and it’s your name I whisper. 
He pauses for a moment, confused, then sits back in his chair,
Furrows his eyebrows and runs his hand through his hair. 
“I thought you guys were close? Even exchanged gift cards regularly?” 
“Oh no, sir,” I say, “she betrayed me this Christmas, spectacularly.”