What’s it like to be employed by an agency as a Father Christmas?
To be the be-whiskered big fella in a red suit sitting in a shopping centre and be the centre of attention.
Arriving on a wheeled sled pulled by dogs was the first time in my life, amidst the screams of children, I felt like some pop star.
They told me I would melt in that Santa suit if there wasn’t a fan.
What a relief at the lunchtime break to get out of that suit, wet with perspiraton, and walk about (now unnoticed, no longer a celebrity) in shorts and tee shirt.
The manager of the shopping centre was a bossy person and the school girl taking the photographs obviously lacked respect for age and Santa authority by gruffly telling me I should not “leave that throne”.
Not likely, I was fulfilling the brief given to me, to walk about waving at the shop-keepers, making my presence felt.
The week never lacked trauma. It was a couple of boys, kids with dread locks, who were not fast enough to rip off my beard; and the worst thing to happen was to forget to bring my white gloves.
The Centre Manager rushed up to me in a fluster: “Where are your white gloves!?” She said, urgently. I told her I had washed them and they were hanging on the clothes line. She walked away with her assistant and I wondered why, perhaps to ring the Santa Employment Agency, to make a complaint.
I called over a security bloke standing nearby and explained the situation and he said he would see if he could get some white gloves for me. Problem solved! Soon afterwards he happily returned with two pairs.
Why did the manager get so upset? The reason was explained to me that apparently with white gloves the position of my hands would be more visible with people sitting on my knees. It beggared description. Bordering on political correctness.
But overall it was privilege to be a Santa; would bring tears to anyone’s eyes to hear the kids spill out their wishes like: “Mummy and Daddy get back together.” In fact, it was not only the kids who treated Santa with such awe and respect.
Name withheld