The End

Twas the day before Christmas and all through the grotto,

Parents queued patiently, Children not so,

There was excitement, jumping, laughing and cheer

And of course the obligatory toddler's tears,

Everyone seemed much nicer than before

Although I did have to wrestle a boy to the floor

We got through the queue, no problems or faults,

Avoided any charges of physical assault,

Presents all given, photos as well,

No more keyrings or magnets or hat with a bell,

The grotto is cleared, the letters all sent,

The elves all set for unemployment,

There really is nothing else to do, 

but to wish a very merry Christmas to you

from Ice, Magic, Snapshot, Bounce too

But probably not Twinkle.

The Night Before Christmas Eve

Tomorrow is our last day.


We will be short staffed. Our tempers will be even shorter. We will be incredibly busy. We have all at some point or other this week displayed signs of cabin fever and are ready to kill each other and/or all our customers.


What we need is a Christmas miracle. 


On the plus side we will get to watch anxious parents listen to what their kids ask Santa for and realise they've bought the wrong thing. Well, if you are stupid enough to bring your children to see Santa on Christmas Eve...

The Comeuppance

One elf had started to become a bit of a problem. She was slow on the tills, she took way too many photos and every time she was on our money would be down at least 40 pounds. No-one thought she was stealing, we just thought she was stupid.

On Tuesday she came in 30 minutes before her shift to say she'd had a fight with her mum and didn't feel up to working. Lame excuse, but as we could manage without her, head elf let it slide.

Today was insanely busy. Glimmer was sick and got sent home early. We were coping as best as we could, I was only til 3 and was looking forward to getting away and having a late lunch, the aforementioned elf was due to replace me for her last shift. At 2.45pm head elf came and begged me to stay an extra hour. I had places to be, people to see, food to eat, but things were desperate. Head elf was not happy, she'd finally had enough of lazy elf. Lazy elf who sent her mother down 15 minutes before her shift to say she wouldn't be in.

Head office was called, the truth was told and lazy elf will lose money for breaking her contract.

And who is the lazy elf of which I speak? Twinkle. I knew she wasn't worthy of my name.

The Names 2

As we approach the end of the grotto I feel I should do a round up of the most ridiculous names to pass through the enchanted forest.

 

5) Any name that is undoubtedly chosen from the pages of Heat magazine: Rihanna, Shakira, Keisha, Kai, Beyonce. We've had them all. We even had an Enya today.

4) Meadow

3) Aya Sky  

2) Two sisters: Acacia and Madoka. 'Are they types of wood?' I asked mother. 'I don't know, their father picked them.' 

And the number 1 place, without a doubt, goes to:

1) Shock

First name. Baby dressed like a bumble bee.

The Apology

Monday was my last day with Santa B and as he gave me my Christmas card and later gave me a lift home, I couldn't help feel a bit guilty. 


He really is a very nice man. And he isn't the worst Santa in the world. I saw one last week that was clearly a skinnier than average adolescent, with little to no effort to look the part. For all his faults, Santa B tried his best. And it wasn't really his fault that his hat kept falling off, and his padding sat weirdly and his beard went into his mouth. Santa A is pretty tough competition, and I must say I did notice improvement. A few safety pins here, and readjustment of the wig there and Santa B didn't do half badly. 


I'm sorry for misjudging you Santa B. Merry Christmas to you and yours.

The Coping Mechanism

6 weeks on and patience is almost up. 


The generally public are, by and large, incredibly stupid. They are incapable of queueing without a metal barrier to keep them in line; the concept of three photo items for the price of two is apparently tantamount to quantum physics; the seemingly insurmountable task of choosing between the three identical photos of their child screaming is made all the more arduous when they cannot pay attention for long enough to view them. Basically the grotto has made us despise humanity, a little bit.


We all have different ways of coping. Bounce tends to swear as they exit, Magic makes faces while they are adjusting their child for the photo. I've taken to muttering, usually under my breath. 

The Chat Up

A surprising amount of people like chatting up elves.


You'd think the garish, ill-fitting costume, the skin rubbed raw by excessive face paint and the fact that every time we move a bell rings, would have a negative impact on our attractiveness, but apparently not. 


Bounce generally gets the older men, older older. I think it's cause she's from Mauritius and men in Belfast over 60 are still amazed they have met someone so exotic, even if she is dressed as an elf.


Snapshot gets the middle-aged. Often married with a glaring wife. This is partly because she knows and has been out with a large percentage of the middle-aged population of Belfast.


And Ice. Ice attracts the younger crowd. Generally 13-18, sometimes toddlers. It's always full of awkward adolescence and finishes with the crushing realisation that I won't come home and play video games with them because I am actually 10 years older than they think. Oh yeah, and married. 


But all of us agree we are definitely receiving more attention in the grotto than we have anywhere else. I sure Freud would have a field day.


In reverse, Magic, the only male elf, stands all day ogling the beautiful Chinese girl who works at the stall behind us. He has yet to stay hello.

The Swearing

*disclaimer. In order to discuss swearing, Ice must use swear words, but will soften them down with '1's and '*'s so as to avoid offence. It is Christmas after all.


Ice is not generally a swearing elf, though, on occasion, I've been tempted to direct a torrent of abuse at customers or, more often, Rocky the Singing Raccoon who pops out of the creepy enchanted tree every five minutes. On Christmas Eve that raccoon is going down. But I am continually surprised at the amount of parents who swear at their kids. Call me conservative, but it's a Christmas grotto, it kind of ruins some of the magic when echoes of 'you wee sh*t' reverberate around the tree.


They also swear at me. Not aggressively, just by way of conversation. 'She wouldn't smile, the little b*tch', a father said to me at the back till. I looked down expecting to see some monster of a child. The pretty, ringleted, 4 year old looked back at me shyly, still obviously traumatised by her visit to Santa.


I try to glare them from under my jungle bell hat to show them the error of their ways. Guess who's going to be on the naughty list this year.

The Misunderstanding

Santa asks the child what they want for Christmas. Santa gives the child a present. You can see where a misunderstanding might occur.


Admittedly Santa does try to explain to them that this is just a small present to remind them to be good until Christmas Eve when he will come with their big presents, but the message doesn't always sink in.


A child leaves the grotto excitedly holding their present. 'What do you think it is?' Parent asks. 'A Nintendo DS,' the child states confidently. Moments later the child is crying, assuming that they weren't good enough and the present they have just asked Santa for will not be coming. A storybook worth 1-2 pounds is lying on the floor. 

The Out of Context Elf

Everyone, at least once in their life, should try doing ordinary things dressed as an elf.


This week, for the first time, I took a toilet break during a shift. The nearest facilities to the grotto are in the food court upstairs so I got the escalator up and began working my way through the crowd and various fast food chains. I had seen a few heads turning but it wasn't until I was outside KFC that I noticed the tension in the atmosphere. A boy turned to me as I tried to slip past; 'You're Santa's elf. What are you doing here?' he said accusingly. I realised he was voicing what everyone was thinking. I was dressed as an elf, and this was not somewhere I was welcome. At any moment I expected leftover pieces of pizza and fried chicken to be thrown my way amidst chants of 'Out Elf!'


I made it to the bathroom safely and joined the queue. There again I felt the heat of suspicious glares, as if the people behind me were angry that one of my kind was preventing them from getting to the toilet quicker. When I was finished a little girl watched me wash my hands. Part of me felt bad, like I was ruining some kind of illusion; elves go to the toilet too. But then I thought it would've been much worse if she'd watched me not wash my hands.


Yesterday I went to the bank to get more change for the grotto. As I approached the desk, I couldn't help feel that as I was in costume and everything, they half expected me to, and perhaps I should've, held them up and robbed the bank. I didn't.

The Divorced Dad

Divorced Dad can be spotted a mile away. It's his day with the kids and they've guilt tripped him in to taking them to see Santa. He stands awkwardly in the queue, sure that he's not doing something right. When asked the children's name and age he reddens, under pressure as if in an exam hall. 'What age are you again?', he jokingly asks them. He fidgets and taps his foot until it is time to go in.


With Divorced Dad, taking the photo is easy. Regardless of it's quality, he will always say he's happy with the first picture. The visit is brief, the photo is collected and he moves on as quickly as possible. He knows that the kids will probably come again next week with mummy and assumes they will have a much better time.

The Half Way Point

We are now over half way into the grotto's lifetime. 


Whilst it's been lots of fun and we all enjoy working together, we are all also getting a little tired. The twinkling of the trees doesn't seem so bright anymore, you could say. And we all, we suspect, are going a little crazy.


We continuously sing 'Santa Claus is coming to town', even on our breaks, we hear our jingle bell hats and children's cries in our sleep, and we now all think it's normal to repeatedly shout 'smile' and shake a rattle in toddlers' faces.


We are all also slowly beginning to hate the human race.


I wouldn't be surprised if some day soon we go awol. There will be ripping of tickets, breaking of rattles and shouts of 'That's a ridiculous name of course I can't spell it / How can I get a good photo if your child hates Santa? / MOVE OUT OF THE WAY / I DON'T CARE ABOUT KEYRINGS, MAGNETS AND PHOTOS JUST MAKE A DECISION / WHY CAN'T YOU SEE THERE'S 50 OTHER PEOPLE IN THE QUEUE / YOU'RE NOT GETTING ANY PRESENTS FROM SANTA'


I'm looking forward to the day Santa goes awol.

The Day of the Jacky

I saw him run up the queue, past those in front and bound past me into the grotto. I ran to catch and encourage back in my best 'I'm not touching your child' moves. I served the next customer and he was gone.


Ten minutes later he decided to come back, this time trailed by his weary mother. In broken English we began to establish if she wanted a photo or gift or both or whatever. He was off again. This time out of the grotto. Weary mother ended our conversation and set about following. He ran round a few stalls and back up to the grotto.


This time we complete the conversation and transaction and Jacky was allowed in to officially see Santa. 


He sat surprisingly well for his photo, and mother and son left to go about their business.


I watched their business for the rest of the day. It was simply Jacky running various places in the shopping centre and mother walking slowly in the same direction. 


A few hours later he was back at my till. Confused I began asking mother if he was coming in again. No, he just decided to walk this way and it was her job to follow.


I decided to do some Christmas shopping after my shift. I walked past the closed grotto only to see Jacky opening the gate and running back up the empty line. Mother stood nervously watching. I stood with her.


I took a quick scout down before leaving the centre relieved to see Jacky lying in the middle of the animal cushion stall. Somebody else's problem.

The Weekend Girls

Ice is strictly a week day elf. Ice and Bounce and Magic and Snapshot take their work seriously, working Monday to Friday, in the slightly calmer but no less important week day environment. They deal with a lot of preschoolers, listen to a lot of cries, coo over a lot of babies and perfect their elven craft day in day out.


There are however, weekend elves. Those to whom elfing is not their main occupation. Those to whom elfing takes a back seat. And it shows. 


In the changing room costumes are rolled in a ball. In the grotto rubbish bins are not emptied. A disproportionate amount of chocolate lollies are consumed. And the queue that is a ridiculous length moves slower than ever.


Last week there had to be a 'team meeting' with the weekend elves. On Monday we got complained at once again by the cleaning staff - red paint all over the changing rooms. We week day elves are not fans of these part timers.


This Saturday Ice has to work. You'd better watch out.

The Tree

As mentioned, in the middle of the grotto there is a ginormous Christmas tree. How it, or any of the grotto, got there I don't know - I can only assume it was the work of the 'real' elves, but there it is and every day it gets a few additions.


Something I did not know before I became an elf, is that babies and toddlers like to give Santa their dummies (dodos/pacifiers - is that what you really call them in America? Sounds sinister). These dummies are then placed on the tree, and Santa promises he will use them for the baby reindeer. Weird, I know. What's weirder is having tens, maybe even a hundred, babies' dummies hanging from the giant tree you work under. It's probably not the most hygienic thing either.


Alongside these we place the many letters Santa receives, which we then read and make fun off when there's no customers. There are several unflattering drawings, a few Christmas cards, but mainly they are just lists of misspelt toys written in adult's handwriting. My favourite requests so far have been for a Michael Jackson Jigsaw, and a two year old who asked for a laptop. 


The tree has also accumulated several other items such as a deflated balloon, a small monster truck and several 'magic keys' given by kids who don't have chimneys to help Santa get in on Christmas Eve.


Our stunted elven height means we're sadly running out of places on the tree we can reach to put things. Pretty soon we'll start throwing out the letters of children we don't like. 

The Awkward Moment When...

Your old history tutor from university takes his daughter to see Santa.


My costume and lack of participation in his seminars prevented any recognition. I was about to reveal myself when I thought that perhaps he might not consider elfing a suitable profession and might assume his teaching was wasted.

The Passive Resistance

We get a lot of tears and screams. A lot of struggling and wriggling and mad dash escape attempts. But the reaction I find most entertaining is much less dramatic. There's no action at all. My favourite type of child is the one that will sit on Santa's knee if they are placed there, will look at the camera when asked, but will not, under any circumstances, enjoy it and they most certainly will not smile.


By in large, they are usually 2-4 year old boys. They don't seem particularly frightened by Santa, just unimpressed, disapproving even. Conscientious objectors to this whole Santa nonsense. They have reasoned that they cannot stop their parents from taking them to see Santa or placing them on his knee, but they can assert their right not to smile. And nothing mummy or daddy can do will change that.


But that doesn't stop them trying. They clap and sing and dance and even lie on the floor making silly faces. The child is unmoved. It's resolve to resist only strengthened by it's parent's humiliation. 


As seen so many times in history, the way of non violence and passive resistance can enact great change upon society. And can provide amusing Santa photos.

The Lunch Break

Santa has a lunch break. Shocking, I know, but rules of employment state it must be so. And so the grotto must be shut for 30 minutes, and so the elves must try to empty the grotto before those 30 minutes start. 


This requires a concerted effort. We are not allowed to officially close the grotto before our break. Instead we post a patrol elf at the entrance, continuously looking at the clock and deciding if another child can be let in. We never finish on time, but as soon as the last child has been 'what do you want for Christmas/smile smile smile'ed, it is our elf duty to get Santa out of there asap. That is, everyone except the lunch guard.


Every day, one elf must stay behind to the protect the grotto from evil forces. Whilst the other elves and Santa are off eating sandwiches and making chitchat to the various nationalities in the staff room, Guard Elf sits on the giant present in the middle of the grotto at the point where you can see both tills and finds ways to look busy. This usually involves folding photo frames. But, as busy as you try to look, you will still be bombarded with confused and annoyed parents wondering where Santa is. They will then stand there for the full 30 minutes watching you with their accusing eyes. 


Occasionally a cleaner comes to sweep up broken fragments of snow. 

The Repetition

'Hi what can I get for you?'
'It's 3.95 for a gift, and 5 pounds for one photo or you can get 3 photo items for 10 pounds'
'It's up to you whether you want a photo, magnet or keyring'


'What's the child's name?'
'How do you spell that?'


'Are you excited to see Santa?'
'Have you been good?'
'What are you going to ask him for?'


'It's your turn to see Santa!'
'Go and give him a big smile'
'There's nothing to be afraid of'
'You're not going to cry are you?'


'Smile! Smile! Smile! Smile! (insert child's name) smile!'


'I think that's the best photo we're going to get'


'Are you happy with this photo? I think that's the best one'
'Yes you can see them all if you want, but I think that's the best one'
'You'll take that one then'


'That's a nice one'


'They all cry at that age'
'Yes you can have a refund'

The Grotto

I suppose a description of the actual grotto wouldn't go amiss. 

Unlike others, ours is an open grotto. There is no darkened room to enter to add to the child's torment, everything is visible from outside - ticking all the Child Protection boxes. 

Ours is themed on an enchanted forest. I didn't actually noticed this until a couple of weeks in, but it is. You can tell this by the large enchanted tree at the entrance. It has scary blinking eyes and a singing raccoon that pops out of the top from time to time and sings the same four Christmas songs on loop. I hate that raccoon. 

Walking past the entrance you pass two mechanical elves who move back and forth hammering the same toy. The fact that they are of traditional elf height kind of shows us human sized elves up. You pass several more lit up trees and then you're at the front till. 

The path that leads you to Santa is bordered with low quality fake snow that is proving a liability with buggies and running children. There are several moving animals that are often the saviours of frightened toddlers. They like to stay near the oversized hedgehog at the start, gradually move to the moving bunnies near the camera and finish off with the sleeping fox beside the exit. What hedgehogs, rabbits and foxes have to do with Christmas, I'm not sure, but they're there none the less. There is also another creepy mechanical elf beside the camera. He is obscured by trees just enough to make me forget he's there and be terrified once again when I noticed something moving out of the corner of my eye. Due to bad positioning he has nearly lost a finger by repeatedly moving into the gate. A hole has also been poked into Mr Hedgehog by a moving tree branch.

Behind Santa's chair there is two shelves of toys that have been wisely screwed down. It wasn't until one day when I thought I was becoming ill that I realised the toys are also moving. Just gently side to side. 

There is also of course a lot of twinkly lights and loosely covered up wires that will no doubt someday soon lead to a tragic fire related accident.

The Pushy Parent

There are many kinds of parent I find annoying, but my current bugbear is Pushy Parent.


Pushy Parent is most annoying when accompanied by Pleasant Child. Pleasant Child is excited to see Santa, is above the age of cries and screams, and is more than willing to sit on Santa's knee and pose for the obligatory photo.


The photo is taken.


'Are you happy enough with that one?' Helpful Elf asks, pointing to the display screen that shows the perfectly decent photo that has just been taken. Pushy Parent goes over to inspect.


'Eh, could we maybe take another one?' Pushy Parent asks with feigned politeness. They turn to Pleasant Child. 'Smile properly this time.'


Another photo is taken.


'No, you look weird, try smiling again.'


Another photo.


Strained laughter. 'What's wrong with you today?' Turns to partner/granny/friend. 'She/He looks terrible in these.'


This continues for as long as Helpful Elf has patience, and results in a horrible forced smile from Pleasant Child who is now attempting to hold back the tears as Happy Visit to Santa has been destroyed by Pushy Parent.


They usually end up choosing the first photo.

The Lone Ranger

On Thursdays I only work a short shift in the afternoon, usually starting at 2pm or 2.30pm. Normally, we elves get ready together, wait for Santa to finish his sudoku puzzle (A) or his cigarette (B), then escort him from the outhouse to the grotto. On Thursdays I get ready alone. 


There's something quite unnerving about walking into a room full of hardened security guards and cleaning staff dressed as an elf, solo. On a normal day we leave in a flurry of noise and laughter whilst anyone else present looks on bemused. On Thursdays there's silence as I emerge from the changing rooms and attempt a feeble 'hello'. 


I walk through the yard, and along the corridor that leads to the shopping centre avoiding eye contact. When I get into the centre things aren't much better. It is a universal principal that people in costumes are perfectly acceptable, even funny, in groups of three or more, possibly two. People in costumes alone are, at best, weirdos, at worst, threats to society. On Thursdays, I am treated as such.


It is with relief I reach the outskirts of the grotto and people finally twig as to why I'm dressed as an elf. I join my kind, and once again am socially acceptable. 

The Soundtrack

I've decided to listen to this everyday before work.