Christmas Part III, Santa in Boxer Shorts

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Up until very recently, I worked for a large local specialty retailer here on Long Island. If you’ve ever worked in retail, you know at Christmas they drag everyone out of the offices, and make them work on the selling floor. The sales people hate it because you keep them from getting commissions. You hate it because you have to work overtime, not get any extra pay, have to deal with the general public, when one of the main reasons you got an office job is so you could stay as far away from the public as possible. So what usually happens is you’re more than happy to go sit anywhere off the selling floor, and do paperwork for them.

It was the last week before Christmas and I had been helping out in the same department, and had gotten to know the man who was the store Santa. He was a very nice man in his late 50’s and was retired from the post office. He hair was white, he had real full white beard, and was very convincing. It was close to closing time and the manager on duty asked me if I could help him out and key the stack of transfers as received, and that I could use the terminal in the back office. Now as it turns out the office I was in also happened to be Santa’s dressing room, and it was quitting time for ole Kris Kringle. He came into the room, and I’m making small talk with him. At this point he reaches over and gets his duffel bag of clothes. Just about now I see the train wreck coming, but am powerless to stop it without offending them man. He then drops trousers, and keeps on talking while he hangs up his Santa Suit pants.

He keeps on chatting, as if he does this everyday … However inside my head it was all moving in slow motion. It was very surreal, like a dream sequence … Santa … the boxers … the skinny old man legs … the black socks … There are just somethings that leave mental scars that will never heal. Like walking in and catching your parents having sex, seeing Santa in his boxers is something you should never have to see, and something you’ll never forget if you do. I was sure I could hear the synapses in my brain sizzling and short circuiting. After what seemed an eternity, he finished getting dressed and finally left. I was alone. I felt confused … unsure of myself … like I was falling in a void, but would never hit the bottom… I needed a drink …

Christmas Part IV, The True Meaning of Christmas

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