Santa, Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash
My dear, wise little children,
Please accept my apologies, but this year I was unable to bring you all the gifts you ordered.
Indeed, many events prevented the distribution of all the long-awaited gifts tonight.
I could promise you, like a politician, that you will receive them soon (not before March unfortunately, we have been considerably delayed.), but I wouldn’t do anything about it, this year we will have to play with last year’s gifts.
I am aware that I still owe you an explanation, so here it is.
First of all, the first letters arrived, at first I thought you had become illiterate. It took me a few days to realize that wooden toys were no longer popular and that you were only interested in flashing, communicating and noisy electronic devices!
After making a few modifications to your wishes (we no longer have unicorns in stock, nor Prince Charming since 1657) I urged the elves to start making these new toys (at my age, it is better to delegate). A wind of panic then rose within the elves of the factory. Impossible for them to make everything, we were far from the assembly of a doll, a plush toy or a wooden train, the elements were too small for their big swollen fingers.
Luckily Mother Christmas (what would I do without her!) came up with a brilliant idea, and of course I made it my own: we were going to hire new elves from the New World, reputed little eaters and great workers.
A few days later, they arrived 50 from the icy sea. Small and fine, they set to work without delay, their productivity surprised me. I came to doubt the capacity of my little goblins, didn’t they slow down the pace on purpose?
When I then saw Elfo and Elfitor, drinking hot chocolate instead of working, my blood was only a trick and I fired them on the spot.
It was my biggest mistake, I must admit.
Then the slingshot of the elves began. An atmosphere of protest swept through the ranks. Inspired by the strikes of the little French children, they interrupted the work. You will say to me, the new elves could have taken over. But the leprechaun of the far north is clever, and the strikers confiscated all the tools and blocked all the machines.
Even the elf cook went on strike. After two days, tired of eating Mother Christmas’ leek soup, I finally cracked.
I was ready to live up to some of their expectations. All right, all right, everybody, Santa’s a terrible cook.
So work resumed, but much more slowly, the newcomers quickly took over, and the 6 breaks allowed per day didn’t help.
So here we are on the 24th at noon, with a sixth of the presents. Well too bad, I say to myself, we have the gifts of the wisest children. The others will wait a few more weeks.
So I put everything in my hood, whistling “Little Santa Claus” (it’s crazy what it does to put me in a good mood).
Everything is loaded, it’s time to go. But no reins on the horizon. I call them… in vain.
It’s getting late, I feel my anger starting to growl.
I get off the sleigh with sorrow (I’m getting old). Furibond, I look for his damn reins everywhere. I end up finding them, all in the shed huddled around the fire, eating carrots and drinking mulled wine. “It’s Christmas ! We’ve got to go now !!! ” I exclaimed.
Rudolph, the gang leader, a bit drunk, finally answered me, that they too have gone on strike. They demand more paid holidays, a break every 2 hours of flight and a retirement at 55 Christmases! The Tornado is in its 78th year and it’s about to get out of control !
I have no choice, if I don’t accept, no gifts will be delivered on the 25th. So reluctantly, I must grant their request.
Once the few reins under 55 Christmases harnessed (I’ll really have to recruit new deer) I lose no time and I take off.
There comes my last misadventure, I had forgotten that the young reins have the easy watering trough, and do not hold the mulled wine. Barely a few meters above the forest, the sled started to pitch. It was with multiple loops and a great crash that we crashed on the roof of my poor household.
Numb from the shock, but in one piece, I decided to go home, so much the worse for this Christmas!
And after a good night’s sleep, I finally told myself that I, too, deserved a nice, sweet retirement! It’s already 88 Christmases !
So I’m enclosing an ad to replace me, don’t hesitate to apply. It’s a grueling job, but very rewarding.
All the same, I wish you a merry Christmas with your family.
I’m off to the Bahamas with Santa Claus and I can’t wait to get out of my underwear!
PS: Here’s the announcement:
“Seeking new Santa Claus, size 46, otherwise the suit will be too big. Preferably with white beard and round glasses. Great managerial skills required. Flying sleigh license required. Languages to master orally the elf and the reindeer, written comprehension of all the languages of planet earth required.
Team spirit and joviality will be a plus. Travel to be planned once a year. Send CV and cover letters to firstname.lastname@example.org “
And if you have received gifts this year, they come from usurpers who know that you have not been very wise 😉
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