One of my more pernicious personality traits is an inability to waste things, even if I don't like them. I am presently choking down a bowl of Clan Highland Gold while I type this, which was gifted to me by a Bulgarian doctor on my last assignment. My step-daughter loves to buy me tobacco for gifts as well, usually from Wally World or from the jar of her local tobacconist. She and my better half love those sweet smelling aros, and I feel obliged to smoke them, especially in their presence. This may award me some style points with them, but my tongue and taste buds are all the worse for it.
The positive note is that I have 150 tins of tobacco aging gracefully, and should I survive the giftings, I may enjoy my beloved VaPers and Englishes in retirement, or at least secretly at pipe club meetings.