OK, Macy's parade is history, the Turkey has recieved its proper last rights, the farts from overeating have been aerated, mom has hung tinsel throughout the house, and the Christmas hucksters are in full swing. Here is my contribution to the seasonal merriment!
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When he awoke, Santa assumed that this day would go the same as every other December 24th since he got the job, back several centuries ago. He rapidly got disabused of that notion, however, when he rolled over to pat the Missus’ comfortable posterior, in a ritual that was almost as old as the job. Instead of finding her silver locks on the pillow, he found a note pinned to it that read,
“Fatso, I am sick tired of being ignored. You spend what little extra time you have down in the lab playing with the new gadgets your guys develop. I am convinced that you no longer are aware of having a wife. I have been begging for you to fix the refrigerator for a full week now. You have time for your engineers, why not for your wife? Am I nothing to you? I will not put up with this neglect any longer. I am going to my sister’s in Dubuque. If you even remember that I exist, you can call me after the Spring thaw.”
Crap, Santa thought, allowing himself to utter a most un-Claus-like expletive. So he arose, showered, laid out his Travel Togs, ready for the evening’s odyssey, and went into the kitchen to see what he could find. The refrigerator, of course, greeted him with a horrible stench, which in turn triggered the beginnings of a tension headache. Things did not augur well for our hero. He eventually found some cheese and a stale cracker that would have to suffice for breakfast because the intercom was already buzzing.
As he entered the workshop proper, Santa’s ears were assaulted by a din, the likes of which he had not heard outside of Manhattan. He found people shouting, screams of anger, loud banging, a high-decibel cacophony of sound which only added to the headache. Bulling his way to the center of the ruckus, Santa found the head of the engineering department dressing down the Personnel Director. This was accompanied by all the engineers making the biggest commotion they could. He noted with amazement how many of their gadgets could be made to do double duty as superb noise-makers.
Santa pulled the combatants into his office to get to the bottom of things. He found that one of the toy designers had been sacked for sexual harassment. It seems that he had been dallying with a girl from GiftWrap and she had presumed an implied promise of marriage. When he demurred, she raised the roof in protest. Personnel listened to her complaint, which was so cleverly worded that they agreed the fellow’s behavior was outrageous and dismissed him summarily.
Well, the Engineers were not standing for that! They contended that the little tart had come on to their guy and was flaunting her femaleness in a most un-elflike manner. Their guy had simply been seduced, they claimed. When word of his sacking had come down, they ginned up an instant protest march through the workshop halls, and their boss ran straight for Personnel.
Santa went to get his arbitrator, but discovered that the fellow had traded a case of the new long-flight golf balls for a week’s vacation in Aruba and had just left 10 minutes earlier. He was forced to hand the problem to the guy’s Assistant. She had just transferred in from the offshore factory in Singapore and her command of Elven was limited at best.
Leaving that problem for a while, Claus called the staff attorney and asked him to research the Intellectual Property issues involved with early release of the new balls. Next, he went to calm the GiftWrap girls down. The engineers were finished for the year and could be ignored for a while, but the wrapping was stacking up in the corridors while the girls were having a counter-protest march in support of their gal. Santa simply HAD to get them back to work.
It took until late afternoon to resolve the problem. Santa had all the department heads join him in writing a communiqué explaining that the misunderstanding was caused by a lack of sensitivity training in the organization and pledged that all the elves would be scheduled throughout the coming year for focus groups and retreats dealing with issues of Elven custom and their transition in modern society. He of course, had to reinstate the Engineer and make sure the GiftWrap girl got counseling and a 6 month “sabbatical” with full pay.
Santa then called back all the furloughed workers, workshop wide, who had not already departed on their Winter Holiday. He promised them all triple overtime for the week and had to add the incentive of a full month’s leave with pay if the wrapping was completed by Departure, which was just 2 hours away. There went the profits for the full year! It had been decades since the Workshop had run in the red. In fact, the last time that happened was the year just before the introduction of Television.
With a full blown migraine by now, Santa stumbled down to the stables only to discover that Rudolph had a granddaddy of a hangover and was totally unable to work that night. Rudy’s boy, Randolph was a big strong kid, but he was not yet fully grown and his nose was only rated for visibilities of 100 feet or greater. Santa next checked with Weather and found that the entire Eastern Seaboard was under fog so dense that it was being called a “London Pea-Souper.” He sent Dasher to find the emergency flares, and asked Donner to give all the Reindeer a quick refresher on Fog Proceedures.
If that were not enough, Santa was devastated to learn that Vixen’s late-in-life pregnancy was having complications and she had been put on total bed rest. Egad, the left side was emaciated! Prancer had retired the year before and his replacement, while eager enough, didn’t have the savvy to hold a steady course. Santa had been relying on Vixen’s seasoned experience to keep him on track. Now, he was stuck with Vixen’s daughter, who, while as steady as her mom, was simply not strong enough to pull a proper trace, but no one else knew the position. Further, the new kid seemed to resent having a girl his own age telling him what to do. It was going to be a rocky trip!
With just a few minutes left before Departure, Santa, migraine in full swing, and frustration level higher than even his saintly demeanor could bear, dragged himself back to the house to get dressed. He needed a cold one! But on opening the ‘fridge, his nose was assaulted with the odor that had started his migraine. Santa slammed the ‘fridge door in anger, but the jolt dislodged a coin jar that the Missus kept on top for pin money. It came crashing down right on top of Santa’s big toe, the one with the infected bunion that he had been delaying treatment on in order to get through this year’s trip.
As Santa stood there howling in pain and frustration, the doorbell rang. He hobbled to the front door only to discover an angel standing there with a kind, gentle expression. “Santa, we heard you were having a bad day so we decided to cheer you up. We decorated this Christmas tree just for you, and I was given the honor of delivering it. Where shall I put it?"
And that, dear children, is why, to this very day, every Christmas tree has a lovely little angel right at the very top!
(c) 2006, Houston, Texas
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Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!
************************************************** ***********
When he awoke, Santa assumed that this day would go the same as every other December 24th since he got the job, back several centuries ago. He rapidly got disabused of that notion, however, when he rolled over to pat the Missus’ comfortable posterior, in a ritual that was almost as old as the job. Instead of finding her silver locks on the pillow, he found a note pinned to it that read,
“Fatso, I am sick tired of being ignored. You spend what little extra time you have down in the lab playing with the new gadgets your guys develop. I am convinced that you no longer are aware of having a wife. I have been begging for you to fix the refrigerator for a full week now. You have time for your engineers, why not for your wife? Am I nothing to you? I will not put up with this neglect any longer. I am going to my sister’s in Dubuque. If you even remember that I exist, you can call me after the Spring thaw.”
Crap, Santa thought, allowing himself to utter a most un-Claus-like expletive. So he arose, showered, laid out his Travel Togs, ready for the evening’s odyssey, and went into the kitchen to see what he could find. The refrigerator, of course, greeted him with a horrible stench, which in turn triggered the beginnings of a tension headache. Things did not augur well for our hero. He eventually found some cheese and a stale cracker that would have to suffice for breakfast because the intercom was already buzzing.
As he entered the workshop proper, Santa’s ears were assaulted by a din, the likes of which he had not heard outside of Manhattan. He found people shouting, screams of anger, loud banging, a high-decibel cacophony of sound which only added to the headache. Bulling his way to the center of the ruckus, Santa found the head of the engineering department dressing down the Personnel Director. This was accompanied by all the engineers making the biggest commotion they could. He noted with amazement how many of their gadgets could be made to do double duty as superb noise-makers.
Santa pulled the combatants into his office to get to the bottom of things. He found that one of the toy designers had been sacked for sexual harassment. It seems that he had been dallying with a girl from GiftWrap and she had presumed an implied promise of marriage. When he demurred, she raised the roof in protest. Personnel listened to her complaint, which was so cleverly worded that they agreed the fellow’s behavior was outrageous and dismissed him summarily.
Well, the Engineers were not standing for that! They contended that the little tart had come on to their guy and was flaunting her femaleness in a most un-elflike manner. Their guy had simply been seduced, they claimed. When word of his sacking had come down, they ginned up an instant protest march through the workshop halls, and their boss ran straight for Personnel.
Santa went to get his arbitrator, but discovered that the fellow had traded a case of the new long-flight golf balls for a week’s vacation in Aruba and had just left 10 minutes earlier. He was forced to hand the problem to the guy’s Assistant. She had just transferred in from the offshore factory in Singapore and her command of Elven was limited at best.
Leaving that problem for a while, Claus called the staff attorney and asked him to research the Intellectual Property issues involved with early release of the new balls. Next, he went to calm the GiftWrap girls down. The engineers were finished for the year and could be ignored for a while, but the wrapping was stacking up in the corridors while the girls were having a counter-protest march in support of their gal. Santa simply HAD to get them back to work.
It took until late afternoon to resolve the problem. Santa had all the department heads join him in writing a communiqué explaining that the misunderstanding was caused by a lack of sensitivity training in the organization and pledged that all the elves would be scheduled throughout the coming year for focus groups and retreats dealing with issues of Elven custom and their transition in modern society. He of course, had to reinstate the Engineer and make sure the GiftWrap girl got counseling and a 6 month “sabbatical” with full pay.
Santa then called back all the furloughed workers, workshop wide, who had not already departed on their Winter Holiday. He promised them all triple overtime for the week and had to add the incentive of a full month’s leave with pay if the wrapping was completed by Departure, which was just 2 hours away. There went the profits for the full year! It had been decades since the Workshop had run in the red. In fact, the last time that happened was the year just before the introduction of Television.
With a full blown migraine by now, Santa stumbled down to the stables only to discover that Rudolph had a granddaddy of a hangover and was totally unable to work that night. Rudy’s boy, Randolph was a big strong kid, but he was not yet fully grown and his nose was only rated for visibilities of 100 feet or greater. Santa next checked with Weather and found that the entire Eastern Seaboard was under fog so dense that it was being called a “London Pea-Souper.” He sent Dasher to find the emergency flares, and asked Donner to give all the Reindeer a quick refresher on Fog Proceedures.
If that were not enough, Santa was devastated to learn that Vixen’s late-in-life pregnancy was having complications and she had been put on total bed rest. Egad, the left side was emaciated! Prancer had retired the year before and his replacement, while eager enough, didn’t have the savvy to hold a steady course. Santa had been relying on Vixen’s seasoned experience to keep him on track. Now, he was stuck with Vixen’s daughter, who, while as steady as her mom, was simply not strong enough to pull a proper trace, but no one else knew the position. Further, the new kid seemed to resent having a girl his own age telling him what to do. It was going to be a rocky trip!
With just a few minutes left before Departure, Santa, migraine in full swing, and frustration level higher than even his saintly demeanor could bear, dragged himself back to the house to get dressed. He needed a cold one! But on opening the ‘fridge, his nose was assaulted with the odor that had started his migraine. Santa slammed the ‘fridge door in anger, but the jolt dislodged a coin jar that the Missus kept on top for pin money. It came crashing down right on top of Santa’s big toe, the one with the infected bunion that he had been delaying treatment on in order to get through this year’s trip.
As Santa stood there howling in pain and frustration, the doorbell rang. He hobbled to the front door only to discover an angel standing there with a kind, gentle expression. “Santa, we heard you were having a bad day so we decided to cheer you up. We decorated this Christmas tree just for you, and I was given the honor of delivering it. Where shall I put it?"
And that, dear children, is why, to this very day, every Christmas tree has a lovely little angel right at the very top!
(c) 2006, Houston, Texas
************************************************** **********
Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!
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