Funny, Practical Gifts Under $20 for Your Kindle-Loving, Tokyo-Dreaming Colleague

Office colleague who won’t cook, devours Kindle reads, still jokes about a childhood broken toy, and dreams of teleporting to Tokyo. Likes tidy desks, tiny joys, and no-fuss gadgets.

Send Pages, Not Pans

They don’t cook; they click. Gift a Kindle eGift and a Tokyo-flavored ebook—instant joy, zero dishes, and fully HR-approved.

Redemption Arc: The Unbreakable Desk Companion

At 2:37 p.m., the spreadsheet is waging a polite but relentless siege. Your colleague taps the keyboard, the ghost of a childhood toy tragedy flickering behind their eyes. Then—plop—a tiny, unbreakable hero lands on their desk: a squishy Daruma/bear hybrid that begs to be squeezed. It’s soft as mochi, refuses to chip, and silently promises, “I will not snap like that toy from 1999.” In the next status meeting, they knead it like dough they will never bake, setting a quiet goal with every squeeze: eyes on the prize, emails in the outbox, villain arc postponed. Coworkers drift by, poke it, grin, and wander off slightly less dramatic. When deadlines pounce, the squish absorbs the impact; when victories land, it fist-bumps back. It fits in a pocket, sits on a monitor stand, and wipes clean after coffee splashes. Therapy-adjacent, chaos-resistant, and delightfully non-fragile—their origin story finally gets a cheerful sequel.

Teleportation Practice Between Emails

Morning coffee. Cursor blinking. Without leaving swivel-chair orbit, they glide a mouse across the Tokyo Metro—printed right on their mouse pad. With each scroll, they plot a phantom commute from Shibuya to Akihabara, mastering transfer lines like a local who’s late for ramen they will absolutely not cook. A teammate leans over: “Vacation plans?” Your colleague smirks. “Training montage.” The map becomes a low-key vision board, a conversation starter, and a subtle flex that their desk has international range. When the afternoon slump hits, the neon skyline coaster under their mug keeps rings off the report and dreams on track. It’s tidy, lightweight, and office-safe, turning dead time into daydream miles. By 5:00 p.m., they’ve shipped the deck and taken three imaginary rides through Shinjuku Station. Teleportation may be pending, but logistics are handled—and their workspace now hums with just enough Japan to make Monday less Monday.