Oh dear, Santa

I remember responding to an ad in the Tribune Review quite a few years ago. It was for a "Character-Santa.” The ad sought “a naturally, full-bearded” man. I assumed that the ad was for a man although my brother and I saw a woman who might fit the bill but that’s another story. The advertisement sought a person for “a local mall” to do a six or seven week promotion. The ad read, “Will train. Must love children.”

Since I was newly retired, I thought I might enjoy finding something to keep myself busy with my free time; something different, something part time or casual. This advertisement was something definitely different.  I also like meeting new people and who couldn’t use a few extra dollars. So I called the number listed.

I reached a woman in New Jersey. She shared the particulars of the ad explaining that I’d be under contract with them. The duration would be over Christmas and I’d be the Santa Clause for Westmoreland Mall. I thought, “Cool, it was local.”

I asked how long would I have to grow my full beard. (I had a goatee at the time.) She said it would have to be ready for the Christmas season. I asked for further details. She shared that I‘d be expected to work from ten A. M. until nine P. M. with two meal breaks of thirty minutes and two restroom breaks of fifteen minutes,

Of course I asked about the salary. The company would give me $7,500.00 in total for those six or seven weeks. She said they’d bring me to New Jersey for training, but here's the kicker, I’d have to work seven days a week. She did say that there were fewer hours on Sundays. Thank goodness. I was to send a photograph via email in three weeks when my beard was fuller.

“SEVEN DAYS A WEEK! That's just nuts,” I thought. She explained the reasoning If a child came back to visit, the children would expect to see the same Santa waiting to greet them. I can see her point, but seven days a week. That’s one reason I retired, too many hours. This contract sounded as though all they needed to provide was a ball and chain like for prison road gangs.

I never did send her a photo to show how much growth I managed. I was thinking if I’m going to play Santa it would be for my grandchildren. I must say my grandchildren didn’t have to be VERY good to sit on Grandpa’s lap anytime of the year.