Elf for a Day by Joanne Banger
My friend told me about this temporary job at a garden center around Xmas. I could be a tree slinger, the person who loaded trees into or on top of people’s cars. That was kind of heavy work and I was a wimpy 15-year-old kid, too skinny.
The other opportunity was to be a Santa’s Helper elf. Much better. We went to a thrift store to shop for outfits and found a red and green jester looking suit and a pointed hat too. Pointed boots with curled toes would have been cool but they were out of those in my size at Savers. The only ones left were enormous like for Shaquille O’Neal.
On the day, my Dad gave me a ride to the garden center. The lady owner of the garden center didn’t really say much about what I was supposed to do. “Give the kids who are waiting to see Santa some cocoa and a cookie,” she said.
The garden center was decorated with lights, tinsel, wreaths and candy cane type knick-knacks. There was red and white striped peppermint locally made artisanal soap for sale. Instead of Christmas carols, the owner played the vocal group Sweet Honey in the Rock and George Winston over the tinny speakers hung around the place.
My co-worker, Santa Eric, was kind of a famous person in the local theater community. He was a fixture in the annual Mayday parade and was known for roller blading in red tights, sparkly tutu, fairy wand in hand. He was a great Santa, good with the kids and he even had a long white beard and a pot belly.
“Fabulous outfit!” he told me. “You, darling are elfalicious!”
Doing my best to be an elf I waited outside in the cold and tried to keep the kids in line entertained. I ate a couple cookies and sipped cocoa.
After a few hours the novelty wore off and I felt silly in the elf outfit.
The owner handed me $50 at the end of the day. “Good elf work!” she said.
“Maybe I can be a cashier this summer!” I told her, trying to move up in the ranks of the garden store. No luck. I never worked there again.
Santa Eric was a bit like this Santa.