Diary of a Gen Z Student: Why are dads so hard to buy for on Father's Day?

Trinity College student and Irish Examiner columnist Jane Cowan. Photo:Barry Cronin

This is a public service announcement to remind you all that it is Fathers’ Day this Sunday.

I repeat, THIS SUNDAY. You’ve got roughly 36 hours to get your hands on some slippers, a ‘No. 1 Dad’ mug, and a biography. The Holy Trinity of Fathers’ Day gifts.

Consider yourselves warned.

Finding a Fathers’ Day gift, is no small feat. I love to complain that my father is impossible to buy for. Because he is.

What do you mean, you don’t care for fancy shower products? You won’t use a voucher for a facial? You won’t delight in a bouquet of peonies? Who raised these men? I’m not joking when I say, the man wouldn’t notice if I replaced his shampoo with a bottle of fairy liquid.

Even calling it shampoo is generous. It’s probably a 12 in 1, all purpose detergent: Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, moisturiser, paint stripper, engine oil, God only knows what else.

Where would you be going with all of these things in separate bottles? Cavemen didn’t use moisturiser, Jane.

He loves to tell me that, whenever I criticise his 12 in 1 shower gel.

Tell that to my baby soft skin, I retort.

I don’t make the whole gift buying process very easy on myself, I’ll admit. It would help if I could learn what his bloody shoe size is, so he wouldn’t end up sliding around the house in clown slippers.

And then I never know whose biography he mentioned wanting to read. Probably some sports guy? Maybe a politician? Or some old time-y musician? God the day I can answer that question, I’ll be a rich woman. Until then, it’ll be another copy of that one with that guy on the front.

You know, THAT guy. With the hair. He plays rugby, or hurling, or something, but I wouldn’t put money on it. Look, if it’s in the ‘Books for Dad’ section in Eason, I’ll take it. I’m shopping to a deadline. Now isn’t the time to be picky.

Life would be so simple if I could ask him for guidance. But it’s not a question of ‘what do you buy the man who has everything?’

It’s more like ‘what do you get for, the guy who wants nothing, Mr. Anti Consumerism?

’ I give him ample opportunity to speak his truth. I’ll ask him a few weeks in advance if there’s anything he’s got an eye on.

But ‘I just want all of my children to be happy’ is a lot to ask for. And difficult to wrap in brown paper and stick a bow on. I’m not a miracle worker.

And with no genie containing lamps in sight, he’ll just have to cope with the clown slippers.

I feel bad, I really do. He loves a sentimental gift when he’s buying for his kids. But I’ll at least guide him towards the right gift. Subtly pointing at a piece of jewellery in a shop window.

Or casually mentioning how a pair of silver earrings would really elevate my wardrobe. Okay, so maybe it’s not so subtle.

But his job is fairly easy, when it gets to Christmas time. I’ve done all the heavy lifting. I’m selfless like that, I guess.

Fathers’ Day was so simple, as a child. I’d rock home from school on the Friday evening, after masterfully finger painting a self portrait onto a card for him.

Then on the Sunday morning, I’d be handed something and told to give it to my Dad, because it was from me, apparently. Then we’d head out for a Fathers’ Day dinner.

Considering the only currency I had was Sylvanian families (highly valuable among seven-year-old girls, but not so much, beyond that), it was up to him to foot the bill.

God love him, he never complained.

Having all his kids around the table was the gift, I suppose.

But considering half of his children live in different countries, that would be tough to recreate, this Fathers’ Day.

With 36 hours on the clock, I’d best get myself shopping.

I’ll follow the nearest New Balance runner, cargo short, and Star Trek T-shirt wearing, middle-aged man around a shopping centre for a while.

Actually, I can do better than that. This 700-odd word column is dedicated to you, Dad.

Happy Fathers’ Day!

You must have gotten something right, if I’m anything to go off.