I Like To Help: A Christmas Story
- Replies 6
By member Alan G.
I think I’m a rational person. I mean, I’m not really given to wild fantasy, superstition or supposition. What I’m going to tell you really did happen, but you’ll probably think I’m demented, mad or worse. Never mind, I can live with that. I know what I know, and that’s the end of it.
I used to be the manager of a large department store in… Never mind, it’s not important. We were one week from Christmas, and everything was starting to crank up. The customers were rolling in the doors from opening time, with lots of excited little ankle biters touching everything. Isn’t it funny how children can’t just look? They’ve got to feel. The store Santa was due at 10 am, and the queues were starting to form. I wandered out from my office to look down the escalator well. I could just see the edge of the ‘Santa’s Grotto’ display we’d put up two weeks ago. I’ve got to admit, I was quite proud of it. It was worth taking the trouble and a little more of the budget than I was supposed to. There was a large sleigh display and reindeer—all six of them, including Rudolph, with his trademark red nose. The children would climb up into the sleigh with Santa and Mum would watch as the littlies would tell the great man exactly what they wanted. A few discreet nods or shakes of the head from Mum, and things would be sorted out, most of the time. The trouble was, not all the kiddies were happy on Christmas Day, judging by some of the requests!
Ten minutes to go, and I peered down again, expecting to see Gus in his usual unflustered way, getting ready. Nothing. I waited. He’d probably been held up. We were lucky to have Gus. He’d been with us for over ten years. Already fat and bearded, with a cheery, avuncular nature that immediately endeared him to all the Mums and Dads, not to mention the kiddies. He’d turn up without fail, rain or shine. He even managed to get in when he’d fallen over the weekend before and cracked a bone in his foot. Somehow, we managed over that Christmas. It would have been nearly impossible to get a replacement, so one of ‘Santa’s Helpers’ would help him to his spot. It was easier then—the sleigh idea was new.
At five past, it was clear there was something wrong. There’d been no reply from his house, and nobody had seen him coming down the street or waiting for the bus at the end of his road, as he usually did.
I rang his number from my speed dial, and a female voice answered.
'Pop had a stroke last night. He can’t talk. I’m sorry, but we’re all over the place here, what with getting him to hospital and all. Who did you say you were?'
I told her again and said how sorry I was – that I hoped he’d get better. Before I rang off, I said that he was the best Santa we’d ever had.
I found out the ward and other details and resolved to visit him as soon as I could get away that day.
'We’ll manage!' I’d said. But how? A Santa at short notice was almost impossible to find. I looked down at the queue. They were getting restless as they sensed something was up.
I searched back through the files to see if I could find another Santa, and desperately rang a few numbers. I drew a resounding blank. I was racking my brains. Perhaps a staff member…. Of course, it was the busiest time, and nobody – even me – could be spared.
What should I do? I was beginning to panic. Because Gus had been with us for so long, he’d never had to use padding for the suit we kept. My slim body wouldn’t look anything like a rotund Santa anyway. Perhaps if I used a pillow….
I deliberated the consequences of having no Santa. Our store would be a laughing stock. I would, too. Mums and children wouldn’t forget. Our sales would tumble – and not just over Christmas. I had to solve the problem. But how?
Then, as I watched, the queue started moving forward. I rubbed my eyes, scarcely believing what I saw. There was a ‘Santa’ on the sleigh and had a child on his knee. How could this be? I thought Higgins from Toys must have somehow pulled the switch, but he’d never shown any initiative before. I’d have to sort it out, but meanwhile, I’d take a closer look at this new Santa.
I got down to the ‘Grotto’ just in time to hear two of the Mums talking as they walked away. 'He’s the best Santa Claus I’ve ever seen, Betty. Don’t the kids love him!'
'Not just the kids, Maud; he told me I’d get what I wanted as well.'
'Not the washing machine!'
'No. Not stuff like that. It was, you know, to do with Henry.'
The two women exchanged knowing looks.
'How would he know about Henry?'
'Don’t know. He just...knew.'
'I don’t think even Santa Claus could make Henry change that much. He must have been having you on.'
'No, I really believe him for some reason….'
I hung around the exit way and heard similar conversations from the parents. The children always seemed to have happy smiles on their faces. Always the question: 'What did you ask for, Jimmy?' And the same answer: 'Santa says it’s our secret, and I shouldn’t tell you, otherwise, it might not happen.'
I wondered what happened to the usual 'Game Boy', 'Super-Robot', or 'Nurse Barbie' requests. There seemed to be no mention of toys. Perhaps our mystery Santa didn’t realise he was supposed to be working for the store and increasing sales! I decided to remind him of this during the lunch break.
Lunchtime came, and I patiently waited for our new Santa to appear in the cafeteria queue. Not a sign. On an impulse, I went down to the Grotto, and there he was, still happily engaged in the business of looking after the customers. The line of people had diminished somewhat, but they were taking no notice of the hours Santa was supposed to work. It didn’t look as though he had any intention of stopping. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I went to the head of the queue and quietly pointed out that it was now Santa’s lunchtime, and he’d be back, as shown on the notice, at 1.30pm. ‘Santa’ finished with his charge, and stepped down off the sleigh.
As he approached me, I could see that he didn’t appear to be as old as he looked. He had a sprightly bounce to his step and quite a youthful demeanour.
He held out his hand and fixed me with an amused gaze. Before I had a chance to speak, he said: 'I’d completely forgotten I was supposed to stop for lunch. When I’m having fun, I simply lose all track of time. I suppose you want to talk to me?'
I told him how glad I was that he’d been able to step into the breach left by Gus, but that I really needed to get some details for ‘the files’.
In my office I got my secretary to bring us lunch, and while he was eating, I started to learn a bit of his history. He listed all sorts of excellent references from stores as far away as London and New York. 'You can call them if you like,' he said. He told me his name was Stan Shicalino. He hadn’t got a permanent address in town, but had settled into a little hotel not far up the road. He’d heard about Gus, and said: 'I like to help.'
With these words, and the easy way he answered my questions, all my misgivings evaporated, and he’d left the office for his post for the afternoon before I realised I’d completely forgotten to ask him about promoting our toy sales. 'Oh well', I thought, 'it’ll keep until I catch up with him again.' Somehow, it didn’t seem that important. After all, the parents and children were happier than I’d ever seen them, and the Christmas spirit seemed to be alive and well in the store. During our lunchtime conversation, I realised I’d told him more about myself than I’d learnt about him. I’d even mentioned how nice it would be if my daughter Lacie came home. I hadn’t seen her for over five years. Why on earth I brought that up, I’ll never know. He’d actually said: 'I’ll see what I can do.' I remember laughing at that, and saying something like: 'Even a real Santa Claus couldn’t do that!' I found myself looking forward to Christmas for the first time in years. I began to realise what the Mums had felt after he’d seen them in the Grotto. I felt like a little kid.
The following day the whole store seemed to be buzzing with the news of the ‘New Santa’. A huge queue had formed, but nobody was grumbling. The children, normally impatient and mischievous, were quiet, and smiling in eager anticipation.
The word had gotten out.
Our sales went through the roof! Not just in toys, but in every department. The Mums and Dads who’d seen Santa seemed to want to give something themselves. I must admit, I really felt the same way. I even bought a little bottle of perfume for Aunt Doris, who’d never had a good word to say about me after Sheila walked out. I remember thinking: 'Wouldn’t it be nice if Sheila came back even for a short while. What a Christmas that would be!' I looked up. I’d wandered down to the Grotto again and was watching Santa. Just as my thought of Sheila had crossed my mind, he looked up and gave just the slightest nod in my direction. I looked around. He must have seen somebody he knew. When I looked back, he was busily engaged in listening to a small red-haired child with a huge mole on his cheek. 'Poor kid,' I thought, 'I bet he’d like to get rid of that for Christmas.'
Well, that whole mad week passed in a blur. Before I knew it, it was Christmas Eve, and I hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye to Stan. Just as I was about to leave the office, three of the warehouse staff came in to wish me a ‘Happy Christmas’. They’d never done that before; then it was some girls from lay-by, then the team from electrical, then…. Anyway, just about the whole store, it seemed, wanted to wish me well and to thank me for organising the new Santa. I tried to tell them it was nothing to do with me, but they all seemed so happy about it, I was quite inarticulate.
I got down to the Grotto, but Stan had already left. He must have had some shopping of his own to do, I supposed.
Christmas Day. The phone rang. It was Lacie! I just couldn’t believe it. She was at the station, and could I pick her up!
'I’ll be there as soon as I get some clothes on!' I told her.
'I’ve got someone with me,' she said.
A new boyfriend, I thought. Just when I thought I’d have Lacie all to myself for a while!
At the station, I parked in a ten-minute zone and walked along the concourse. A family group was chattering excitedly in the morning crowd. I recognised the small red-headed boy I’d seen in the store, only this time he was different. He didn’t have that disfiguring mole on his face! I hadn’t quite got over the shock of this when a voice hailed me.
'Dad!'
It was Lacie. I ran over to her and gave her a huge hug.
'I’ve really missed you,' she said, 'We want to come home to stay.'
'Of...course,' I started to say, 'But who….' I stopped dead. It was Sheila. I’d been so taken up with Lacie I hadn’t seen her in the background.
Well, that’s my story. I don’t care if you don’t believe me, but it’s true. I really did get what I wanted for Christmas. Oh, and by the way, I couldn’t help wondering about Stan’s name. I checked his ‘references’, and nobody had heard of him. Finally, I mentioned it to Sheila, and she said: 'Well, somebody’s having you on. Try rearranging the letters.'
It took me a minute or two – Sheila was always good with anagrams – but I finally got it. It was 'Saint Nicholas'.
From the Editor:
A huge thank you to member Alan G. for sharing this original, heartwarming Christmas tale. Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas!
Image Credit: Shutterstock
I think I’m a rational person. I mean, I’m not really given to wild fantasy, superstition or supposition. What I’m going to tell you really did happen, but you’ll probably think I’m demented, mad or worse. Never mind, I can live with that. I know what I know, and that’s the end of it.
I used to be the manager of a large department store in… Never mind, it’s not important. We were one week from Christmas, and everything was starting to crank up. The customers were rolling in the doors from opening time, with lots of excited little ankle biters touching everything. Isn’t it funny how children can’t just look? They’ve got to feel. The store Santa was due at 10 am, and the queues were starting to form. I wandered out from my office to look down the escalator well. I could just see the edge of the ‘Santa’s Grotto’ display we’d put up two weeks ago. I’ve got to admit, I was quite proud of it. It was worth taking the trouble and a little more of the budget than I was supposed to. There was a large sleigh display and reindeer—all six of them, including Rudolph, with his trademark red nose. The children would climb up into the sleigh with Santa and Mum would watch as the littlies would tell the great man exactly what they wanted. A few discreet nods or shakes of the head from Mum, and things would be sorted out, most of the time. The trouble was, not all the kiddies were happy on Christmas Day, judging by some of the requests!
Ten minutes to go, and I peered down again, expecting to see Gus in his usual unflustered way, getting ready. Nothing. I waited. He’d probably been held up. We were lucky to have Gus. He’d been with us for over ten years. Already fat and bearded, with a cheery, avuncular nature that immediately endeared him to all the Mums and Dads, not to mention the kiddies. He’d turn up without fail, rain or shine. He even managed to get in when he’d fallen over the weekend before and cracked a bone in his foot. Somehow, we managed over that Christmas. It would have been nearly impossible to get a replacement, so one of ‘Santa’s Helpers’ would help him to his spot. It was easier then—the sleigh idea was new.
At five past, it was clear there was something wrong. There’d been no reply from his house, and nobody had seen him coming down the street or waiting for the bus at the end of his road, as he usually did.
I rang his number from my speed dial, and a female voice answered.
'Pop had a stroke last night. He can’t talk. I’m sorry, but we’re all over the place here, what with getting him to hospital and all. Who did you say you were?'
I told her again and said how sorry I was – that I hoped he’d get better. Before I rang off, I said that he was the best Santa we’d ever had.
I found out the ward and other details and resolved to visit him as soon as I could get away that day.
'We’ll manage!' I’d said. But how? A Santa at short notice was almost impossible to find. I looked down at the queue. They were getting restless as they sensed something was up.
I searched back through the files to see if I could find another Santa, and desperately rang a few numbers. I drew a resounding blank. I was racking my brains. Perhaps a staff member…. Of course, it was the busiest time, and nobody – even me – could be spared.
What should I do? I was beginning to panic. Because Gus had been with us for so long, he’d never had to use padding for the suit we kept. My slim body wouldn’t look anything like a rotund Santa anyway. Perhaps if I used a pillow….
I deliberated the consequences of having no Santa. Our store would be a laughing stock. I would, too. Mums and children wouldn’t forget. Our sales would tumble – and not just over Christmas. I had to solve the problem. But how?
Then, as I watched, the queue started moving forward. I rubbed my eyes, scarcely believing what I saw. There was a ‘Santa’ on the sleigh and had a child on his knee. How could this be? I thought Higgins from Toys must have somehow pulled the switch, but he’d never shown any initiative before. I’d have to sort it out, but meanwhile, I’d take a closer look at this new Santa.
I got down to the ‘Grotto’ just in time to hear two of the Mums talking as they walked away. 'He’s the best Santa Claus I’ve ever seen, Betty. Don’t the kids love him!'
'Not just the kids, Maud; he told me I’d get what I wanted as well.'
'Not the washing machine!'
'No. Not stuff like that. It was, you know, to do with Henry.'
The two women exchanged knowing looks.
'How would he know about Henry?'
'Don’t know. He just...knew.'
'I don’t think even Santa Claus could make Henry change that much. He must have been having you on.'
'No, I really believe him for some reason….'
I hung around the exit way and heard similar conversations from the parents. The children always seemed to have happy smiles on their faces. Always the question: 'What did you ask for, Jimmy?' And the same answer: 'Santa says it’s our secret, and I shouldn’t tell you, otherwise, it might not happen.'
I wondered what happened to the usual 'Game Boy', 'Super-Robot', or 'Nurse Barbie' requests. There seemed to be no mention of toys. Perhaps our mystery Santa didn’t realise he was supposed to be working for the store and increasing sales! I decided to remind him of this during the lunch break.
Lunchtime came, and I patiently waited for our new Santa to appear in the cafeteria queue. Not a sign. On an impulse, I went down to the Grotto, and there he was, still happily engaged in the business of looking after the customers. The line of people had diminished somewhat, but they were taking no notice of the hours Santa was supposed to work. It didn’t look as though he had any intention of stopping. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I went to the head of the queue and quietly pointed out that it was now Santa’s lunchtime, and he’d be back, as shown on the notice, at 1.30pm. ‘Santa’ finished with his charge, and stepped down off the sleigh.
As he approached me, I could see that he didn’t appear to be as old as he looked. He had a sprightly bounce to his step and quite a youthful demeanour.
He held out his hand and fixed me with an amused gaze. Before I had a chance to speak, he said: 'I’d completely forgotten I was supposed to stop for lunch. When I’m having fun, I simply lose all track of time. I suppose you want to talk to me?'
I told him how glad I was that he’d been able to step into the breach left by Gus, but that I really needed to get some details for ‘the files’.
In my office I got my secretary to bring us lunch, and while he was eating, I started to learn a bit of his history. He listed all sorts of excellent references from stores as far away as London and New York. 'You can call them if you like,' he said. He told me his name was Stan Shicalino. He hadn’t got a permanent address in town, but had settled into a little hotel not far up the road. He’d heard about Gus, and said: 'I like to help.'
With these words, and the easy way he answered my questions, all my misgivings evaporated, and he’d left the office for his post for the afternoon before I realised I’d completely forgotten to ask him about promoting our toy sales. 'Oh well', I thought, 'it’ll keep until I catch up with him again.' Somehow, it didn’t seem that important. After all, the parents and children were happier than I’d ever seen them, and the Christmas spirit seemed to be alive and well in the store. During our lunchtime conversation, I realised I’d told him more about myself than I’d learnt about him. I’d even mentioned how nice it would be if my daughter Lacie came home. I hadn’t seen her for over five years. Why on earth I brought that up, I’ll never know. He’d actually said: 'I’ll see what I can do.' I remember laughing at that, and saying something like: 'Even a real Santa Claus couldn’t do that!' I found myself looking forward to Christmas for the first time in years. I began to realise what the Mums had felt after he’d seen them in the Grotto. I felt like a little kid.
The following day the whole store seemed to be buzzing with the news of the ‘New Santa’. A huge queue had formed, but nobody was grumbling. The children, normally impatient and mischievous, were quiet, and smiling in eager anticipation.
The word had gotten out.
Our sales went through the roof! Not just in toys, but in every department. The Mums and Dads who’d seen Santa seemed to want to give something themselves. I must admit, I really felt the same way. I even bought a little bottle of perfume for Aunt Doris, who’d never had a good word to say about me after Sheila walked out. I remember thinking: 'Wouldn’t it be nice if Sheila came back even for a short while. What a Christmas that would be!' I looked up. I’d wandered down to the Grotto again and was watching Santa. Just as my thought of Sheila had crossed my mind, he looked up and gave just the slightest nod in my direction. I looked around. He must have seen somebody he knew. When I looked back, he was busily engaged in listening to a small red-haired child with a huge mole on his cheek. 'Poor kid,' I thought, 'I bet he’d like to get rid of that for Christmas.'
Well, that whole mad week passed in a blur. Before I knew it, it was Christmas Eve, and I hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye to Stan. Just as I was about to leave the office, three of the warehouse staff came in to wish me a ‘Happy Christmas’. They’d never done that before; then it was some girls from lay-by, then the team from electrical, then…. Anyway, just about the whole store, it seemed, wanted to wish me well and to thank me for organising the new Santa. I tried to tell them it was nothing to do with me, but they all seemed so happy about it, I was quite inarticulate.
I got down to the Grotto, but Stan had already left. He must have had some shopping of his own to do, I supposed.
Christmas Day. The phone rang. It was Lacie! I just couldn’t believe it. She was at the station, and could I pick her up!
'I’ll be there as soon as I get some clothes on!' I told her.
'I’ve got someone with me,' she said.
A new boyfriend, I thought. Just when I thought I’d have Lacie all to myself for a while!
At the station, I parked in a ten-minute zone and walked along the concourse. A family group was chattering excitedly in the morning crowd. I recognised the small red-headed boy I’d seen in the store, only this time he was different. He didn’t have that disfiguring mole on his face! I hadn’t quite got over the shock of this when a voice hailed me.
'Dad!'
It was Lacie. I ran over to her and gave her a huge hug.
'I’ve really missed you,' she said, 'We want to come home to stay.'
'Of...course,' I started to say, 'But who….' I stopped dead. It was Sheila. I’d been so taken up with Lacie I hadn’t seen her in the background.
Well, that’s my story. I don’t care if you don’t believe me, but it’s true. I really did get what I wanted for Christmas. Oh, and by the way, I couldn’t help wondering about Stan’s name. I checked his ‘references’, and nobody had heard of him. Finally, I mentioned it to Sheila, and she said: 'Well, somebody’s having you on. Try rearranging the letters.'
It took me a minute or two – Sheila was always good with anagrams – but I finally got it. It was 'Saint Nicholas'.
From the Editor:
A huge thank you to member Alan G. for sharing this original, heartwarming Christmas tale. Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas!
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