For the person who has everything. It arrives as a letter, costs you real money, and leaves them with a numbered slot on a public wall — and they are allowed to refuse it.

They never asked for it, so nothing happens to them without their say-so. Until they decide, the slot reads a gift, unopened.
Pick how loud it should be, and put their email in instead of your name.
It says who it is from, what it is, and that nothing will arrive. Which is true.
They write their own name on it and it goes on the wall — or they refuse, and the slot comes back to you with its number intact.
Every one of them is nothing. What changes is how many people will ever have one like it.
You are buying them nothing. There is no product, no service, no delivery.
All sales are final. If they refuse it you are not left with nothing at all: the slot keeps its number and comes back to you, and we email you a link to put your own name on it. 20% of everything raised goes to children's surgery, transferred at every $10,000 the site takes.
The colleague whose desk is already full. The friend who buys whatever they want the day they want it. Somebody turning thirty who has asked for no presents. An ex, if the joke is that kind of joke.