They say money is the root of all evil, but at gift-giving time, that's not true. Money is fantastic. It's gift certificates that lead to trouble.

Consider what happened to me last year: A distant (but apparently not distant enough) relative gave me a gift card to a store I dislike, so immediately upon opening the envelope and spotting the dreaded logo, I made a plan to scalp the card.

I was willing to take a loss - 95 cents on the dollar seemed right - but after loitering near the cash register for awhile I lost my nerve, and was forced to comb the shop for something - a nything - I could stand to own.

I eventually found an inoffensive turtleneck, and - here's the beauty part - it was only four bucks more than my gift card was worth!

Gift certificates: the gift that keeps on taking.

In the old days, my relative would have bought me a shirt I didn't like and I would have given it away, and that would have been that. Sure, I would have gotten a lousy gift, but it wouldn't have been my fault. But the gift certificate, with its promise of endless choice, puts the onus on the recipient.

What kind of idiot can't find one thing she likes in an entire store?

But watch out. There's probably at least one gift certificate in your near future. Like Geraldo and polyester, gift certificates have managed over time to shed their sleazy images, to become cash's clean-cut twin. Now, everywhere you look, there they are, proliferating faster than overpriced coffee shops.

Mike Ahern, the CEO of GiftCertificates.com, told me that industry sources put the annual growth at 12 to 15 percent, and said that givers like certificates because recipients ``can pick out exactly what they want.''

That sounds so nice, doesn't it: ``pick out exactly what they want.''

But dig a little deeper, and you'll see that the gift certificate just makes the recipient do all the work. Now, in addition to having to make the return yourself (an inevitable part of any purchase, even for oneself), you're forced to do the front-end work, too.

Hey, buddy, I thought this was supposed to be a present, not a court-ordered trip to the mall.

There's also the stress attached: A gift certificate is a ticking time bomb, threatening to expire or get lost at any moment, or worse.

Years ago, I got a gift certificate to a Harvard Square boutique that closed before I bought anything, thereby forcing me to spend weeks agitating to be considered as one of the creditors who needed to be paid back first.

``I'm sorry,'' I told the friend who gave me - or tried to give me - the present, ``but if you want credit for this, you're going to have to come up with another present.''

Even if nothing bad happens, the gift cards add to the tonnage of stuff the modern person is expected to schlep around.

``I have two wallets,'' one woman told me, taking out a nice slim Kate Spade wallet that holds her cash, credit cards and a driver's license. Then she showed me a bulging black zippered case filled with gift cards and certificates, some new, some with just a few dollars left on them.

``Here's one from Old Navy with $6 on it,'' she said, complaining that in order to make use of that money, she's going to have to spend some of her own. ``Six is going to cost me 30.''

``There are so many mental games with gift certificates,'' she said. ``You need an advanced degree.''

Or, better yet, cash.