It all started so innocently. I approached the set with excitement and a sparkle in my elfish eye. I wore my glittery Christmas socks with pride. And I told 9-year-old Samantha with utmost certainty Santa was waiting to see her all day. I also debated on whether or not I should give her DILF my number. My experience working as a real elf for Santa Claus was… unique to say the least. It’s finally here: An account from a real elf from the North Pole.
Okay, okay. I lied. I don’t know Buddy and I’ve never met Rudolph. My ears haven’t been surgically fixed so as not to be pointy. I am terrible with mechanics and could never sew a simple teddy bear. However, my main food groups do include candy, candy canes, candy corns and syrup.
In the brutal winter of 2013 in the magical land of Utah, though, I lied multiple times a day to children and I was happy to do it.
It was fun—playing pretend, acting as though I was apart of a grand play. I wasn’t in the North Pole because Santa needed my help to be with the children. I was very important, and I stayed in the United States year round to report back to Santa the main interests of children these days. Although I stand at a petite 5”1 inches, it was a sprinkle of magic on the top of my head to get me to grow that tall from my original 3 foot frame. Oh, and my grandfather is the oldest elf in the North Pole at a whopping five hundred and twelve.
Believable, right? It was, at least to ten-year-olds and under. I loved this job to start out with. In fact, I was passionate about this duty I had to spread Christmas cheer. Due to a lack of a car, I took public transportation for forty minutes every shift along with a twenty-minute hike through the snow to report to my station at Southtowne Mall. After I realized that our Santa Claus was a total creep and parents are so much worse than kids, not to mention my anti-Mormon and chauvinistic boss, I turned into somewhat of an angry elf.
As I said before: Children are gems. Getting babies to smile on camera was my specialty. Getting Santa to stop kissing the little girls on the cheek drove me crazy. Asking parents to stop yelling at me when our systems went down was the hardest part.
‘Twas the afternoon before Christmas, when all through the mall
The lines were a’swiveling
Santa meet-and-greeters dressed for it all
My boss was out sick and only one other elf was there
Children were antsy and it was time to feed the reindeer
So Santa went on break and all hell broke loose.
First off, parents of hungry children saw our signs with Santa’s full schedule with breaks included as more of a silly joke than an honest warning. The second the train left with Santa, parents began to scream and yell, “We have to wait another twenty minutes? What is this nonsense?!”
Before Santa came back from break our systems went down. They went down and nobody was answering their cell phones. Suddenly I was in the center of an array of red faces belonging to angry parents. “I’m sorry ma’am, I know this is unfortunate.” “No, sir, you may not cut the three people ahead of you in line just because your kid is crying.” “No, I have no idea what I’m doing because I’m here to be a silly elf and make your kids smile. I literally get paid 7 bucks an hour. My boss is an egg-head who never even called in sick and I wasn’t trained to hack into our systems and control the internet!” I didn’t say that last quote. Instead I cried.
Angry parents continued to babble and yell and act like a child in their terrible-twos throwing a tantrum because they weren’t going to get a Happy Meal. I sat in a corner attempting to control my tears and come to a conclusion.
With my nose in the air and my cheeks even rosier than before, I marched up to the red-faced parents and demanded power into my words. “Get back in line if you want a picture with Santa. Pictures are free with your cell phone cameras. If you want to complain, leave the line.” Some murmurings escaped the mouths of moms and dads and some moms and dads even left the line. The remaining people stared at me with an understanding that my Christmas Eve was probably going worse than theirs’.
Now was time for me to pick up Santa from feeding the reindeer.
“Santa, it’s time to see the children and the cheery parents.”
“Are the systems up?”
“Nope. We are doing free pictures since this is on us.”
“Then I’m staying right here.”
Yes. Creepy Santa had the nerve to ignore his duties.
“Santa, you can’t stay here. We have a long line.”
“I’m not going out there. I’m tired and our systems are down.”
*Long pause by me”
“Santa Claus, you are here to bring magic into the lives of these children. If you don’t go back out there, you are ruining the Christmas spirit of these boys and girls and it will be a terrible experience they will never forget.”
So Santa followed me back out.
This is my story. Being an elf is hard work. Finding the good in parents is hard whether you’re an angsty teen or a jolly elf. So this year, be kind to elves you see. Also, if you happen to be a company who does holiday photographs: Please pay your workers on time. I didn’t see one paycheck for two months after I ended my career in candy canes.
Happy Holidays!