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.
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