The morning dragged, a faceless sea of children begging for toys that their parents couldn’t afford. This was what I meant when I talked about the commercialization of Christmas. It was all about who could amass the most items under the tree. When I was little, all it took was a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure and a fresh box of crayons, and I was the happiest kid on the planet.
Maybe I was just old and out of touch, but shouldn’t it still be about the little things? Hanging out with your cousins running around the house while the grown-ups gossiped and drank. A random auntie yelling at you because you were getting underfoot. Now on Christmas, kids opened up their new gaming systems and disappeared into their rooms for hours.
After the eighth kid asked for the latest smartphone that from the looks on their parents’ faces they weren’t getting, I was over it. All my friends thought I had a few screws loose when I told them I wanted to work as a mall Santa. With the sale of Wordbop, taking a micro retirement just made sense. Granted clocking in and getting dressed in the big red suit each day wasn’t exactly a break.
I’d just worked so hard for years to get where I was. I wasn’t the greatest when it came to work life balance. For me it was all or nothing. But I was starting to watch life pass me by. Living in the moment was damn near impossible for me because I was always focused on my next move. So after a health scare, due to an irregular heartbeat, I decided to slow down. I’d hired people I trusted for moments like this. What’s the point of having wealth and not taking advantage of the opportunity to reset? I was fortunate enough to generate passive streams of income whetherI chose to stay in bed all day or get up and grind. It was a rare blessing I didn’t take for granted.
I used my micro retirement to do the things I’d always wanted and yes, dressing up as Santa Claus was on my bucket list. St. Nick was so beloved. I remember how excited I was for my annual visit to see Santa. My mother loved Christmas and she passed that excitement on to her kids. I always had a letter prepared for Santa, Mrs. Claus, and Rudolph. Christmas was magical, and in a weird way gave me a sense of motivation. If an old fat White man could deliver toys to children all over the world before the sun came up, then I in turn could do or be anything as well.
The morning shifted into afternoon and I got my first Belen sighting of the day. When she walked past the Christmas wonderland, I was tempted to dump the kid sitting on my lap to the ground and approach her. She looked amazing in a bright orange sweater and fuchsia leather skirt. Her bouncy, shiny black curls tumbled over her shoulders. She did not look like a woman who’d just been on the receiving end of a deer the size of a linebacker the day before.
Belen was walking with a short older man, pointing out items around the perimeter of the workshop attraction. I did my best to focus on the camera and the elf who was shaking jingling bells to get the toddler’s attention. Plastering a big smile on my face, I kept my head stone straight, but my eyes were sliding to the far corners of their sockets as Belen passed.
I released a hearty “Ho, ho ho,” in hopes Belen would stop and wave, smile, or acknowledge in any type of way that I existed, but she never slowed moving further out of sight. The next kid in line was all smiles, with neat braids adorned by colorful beads attached to the ends that made a clicking sound whenever she swiveled her head.
“Hello Mr. Claus.”
“Hello,” I found myself laughing at her formal salutation. “You can call me Santa.”
“Nope, my momma told me never to call an adult by their first name. She says it’s rude.”
“Fair enough, your mother is right about that. So tell me what you want for Christmas, Aaliyah?” Her face lit up with surprise that I knew her name. It was the elves’ job to get the names of the children in line, and they would whisper it to me before each one approached. Just another way to make the experience more immersive and magical.
It was unbelievable the lengths we went to in order to keep the mystique of St. Nicolas alive. All so kids would buy into the idea that a man with disposable income and an altruistic desire was running an ethical and safe toy-building workshop employing thousands of elves. A shop that pumped out billions of toys and electronics for kids all over the world.
All this while covertly monitoring the good and bad deeds of the planet’s population and then rewarding people based on favorable behavior. Which was already a slippery slope because who made Santa the judge of moral character, and was Santa’s implicit bias causing some kids to get Barbie Dreamhouses while others received lumps of coal? I guess we’d never know.
Aaliyah pulled out a list and ran through each item. She even threw in a new television for her father to watch football on. When she was done she folded the paper, handing it to me. “You can keep it for when you get back to the North Pole.”
“Thank you, that’s very thoughtful of you,” I said, stuffing the paper in my suit jacket.
After taking our picture, the little girl jumped down from my lap. “See you later. Don’t forget our house on Christmas Eve. There will be cookies and milk. We live at 552—” Her mother yanked her arm, pulling the girl away.
Ernesto, the singing elf, whispered, “Up next is Amir.”
“Could we take a break after this one? I’m getting a leg cramp.”
With a twenty-minute break secured, I went in search of Belen. It’s good to have a friend in security, Tyler and his surveillance cameras located Belen at the water fountain at the east end of the mall, which was desolate and abandoned. Pavilion Grand was in the middle of expansion construction, adding a movie theater, a second food court, and an indoor rock-climbing feature.
Belen was sitting on the fountain’s ledge picking blueberries out of a muffin.
“Don’t jump,” I called. It was a stupid joke, but I needed an opening.
“No jumping for me. I’ve had enough adventure to last me for this week.”
“How are you feeling?” I took a seat beside her.
“Right as rain.”
I had to agree she did look better. “Good, glad to hear.”
“Thank you for the flowers. They were a nice surprise.” Belen looked at me with expectant eyes.
“Flowers always seem to cheer the women in my life up.”
“Glad to be added to the long list of women you send flowers to.”
“I only send flowers to my mother and cleaning lady.”
