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Santa Claus’ Union Troubles

December 1

Dear Valued Employees of Christmas, Inc.:

I was recently given a set of grievances by representatives of the North Pole laborers.

First, let me make this perfectly clear, this is an open shop. There is to be no union activity on the premises. I believe over the centuries that I have been a fair and just employer to each and every one of you.

Still, to address some of your concerns. Your green and red uniforms are worn in the spirit of the holidays, not to demean or humiliate you. The bells on your hats and on the tips of your shoes are a joyful representation of Christmas. Granted, I sometimes laugh like a bowl full of jelly when you jiggle and jangle.

Children across the world know you as elves. I will not refer to you as “height challenged citizens.” You are “Christmas elves” and have been called such since 1873. Christmas, Inc. owns the copyright and to change your titles would cause chaos. You are beloved throughout the world and we would not want to jeopardize that

A forty-hour workweek, with an hour for lunch, would be impossible. Christmas eve is a strict deadline and we have to provide toys for every child in the world. I wish there was some margin for error, but there is not. Think of the good will we would lose if we fell behind in our quota. With the exception of children of deadbeat dads, we cannot be late with even one present.

Finally, as for a retirement package, you are mythical creatures. You live forever. You do not die. I cannot afford to let thousands of you retire to the land of little old people. Plus, every time I enter Arizona airspace, they ask to see my papers. You are needed and loved here.

Let us get through the holiday season and then I will glad to address your concerns and questions.

Ho, Ho, Ho, Santa Claus

December 6

Dear Valued Employees of Christmas, Inc.:

Christmas is drawing closer. It is certainly the hap, hap, happiest time of the year.

Two gentlemen visited me today, by the names of Fat Tony and Louie the Nose. They claim to be representatives of the Teamsters and in an extremely passionate manner explained your concerns and demands. I find myself in full agreement with them on many things and am proud to announce that Teamster Local #456, North Pole, will be on sight to oversee your health and safety concerns.

When I get out of the hospital tomorrow, I look forward to many years of working with Mr. Tony and Mr. Nose to insure a harmonious work environment.

Merry Christmas, Santa Claus

December 10

To The Workforce Formally Known as Elves, But Now Called Vertically Challenged Citizens:

Someone threw a wrench into the doll-making machine. Please excuse me, Mr. Nose informs me that there is no such proof that anyone threw a wrench into said machine, that this is a place of magic after all, so maybe a wrench magically appeared in the gears. I was dismayed to discover that government inspectors from the Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA) showed up to investigate unsafe working conditions.

While I tried to assure them that there is no place in the world more festive and happy than my shop, it appears they disagree. While this recession and Chinese competition of have cut into my profit margin, I will somehow come up with the $15 million fine. Proper protective gear will be delivered in the next two weeks. Work crews will be dispatched, to bring up to code, those areas sited as possible dangers or hazards. It will be a massive renovation effort, but nothing is too good for my workers.

While we are a few hours behind schedule, if everyone works hard we can still make the Christmas deadline. Remember all the children of the world are depending on us. We are all in this together.

Season Greetings, Santa Claus, CEO

December 15

Dear Employees:

I would like to thank whoever reported Christmas, Inc. to the Department of Labor. It appears that I was insensitive to work force diversity. The $6 million fine has helped me see the errors of my way. Granted, there are no Blacks, Hispanics, or even Caucasians living in this region, only magical creatures formally known as elves, but I was clearly wrong. If remedies are not employed, Christmas, Inc. will face further fines.

A new in-house department has been set up to recruit workers from more tropical locations. I believe that we will have no trouble getting individuals to leave sunshine and their families and move to a place where we get two feet of snow daily, has no sun for six months out of the year, and suffer the constant risk of polar bear mauling.

Surprisingly, we have gotten an amazing response from people living in some place called Wisconsin. They have stated that, if I can get something called the Packers and Pabst, I am not sure if this is one object or two, it will be just like home. Yet, our new health care provider has stated that our policy costs will skyrocket if Christmas, Inc. hires these individuals, due to the massive amounts of fried cheese and bratwursts they eat, making their hiring impossible at the present. Still, I am hopeful.

We are currently two days behind schedule, but I know we will do the impossible. In four centuries, we have never missed a Christmas. I look forward to gathering around the tree with you on December 26 and celebrating another great year with a glass of eggnog.

Keep The Yule Log Burning, Mr. Claus, CEO

December 20

Dear Little Freaks With the Sausage Fingers:

I am going to kick the little behind of the individual who let People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals into the compound. They freed the reindeer last night because “no animal should be used as a service animal.” Yep, real good work. Dasher and Prancer were eaten by polar bears. Vixen is knocked up. Blitzen had to have his right hoof amputated due to frostbite. Donner is still missing and feared dead. The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) still has Rudolph in quarantine until they can uncover why his nose glows. I told them that is how God made him. They believe it is due to radiation poisoning. Given regulations and procedures there is no way he will be out of quarantine until April.

I am checking the area to find out if magical seals are capable of flight. I have never heard of flying seals or seals that can pull a sled, but one can hope.

I guess it does not matter as the Federal Aviation Administration (FFA) has grounded the sleigh. It appears it did not met safety standards, especially with its open-air cockpit. I also kept improper maintenance records, even though I informed them that it flew through the hopes and dreams of little children across the world. They fined me $2.5 million, told me I was grounded, and welcome to Ronald Reagan’s America. If I was looking to fly on hopes and dreams, I better look to fly somewhere else. I think I have found an old Ford Festiva to replace it. Everything is possible at Christmas time, even a Festiva not turning into a fireball.

We are five days behind schedule and falling behind further as you read this. I am sure the children whose heads are filled with visions of presents under the tree will understand.

Your Boss, Claus

December 25

To The Former Ungrateful Midgets Who Worked Here:

I have been drinking Christmas cider for the last twelve hours and am drunker than a skunk. Even Mrs. Claus, who I have been married to for over 500 years, is starting to look attractive to me.

As you know, we did not make the deadline. Under the threat of several class action lawsuits, we have sold out to the Sincochem Corporation, for pennies on the dollar. All hail our new Chinese overlords. At least you will not have to look up to anyone anymore.

To whoever sold the naughty and nice list to TMZ, old Kris Kringle has a candy cane he would like to put somewhere. Big shock, Paris Hilton and Charlie Sheen did not make the nice list. Newt Gingrich is going to get a lump of coal. Like one could figure that out.

Oh, hear the people squawking. Santa knows when you are sleeping. He knows when you are awake. He knows when you have been bad or good. So, Santa is spying on you. So does Facebook, Google, Apple, and homeland security, and no one is complaining about them. You are all ungrateful morons.

Mr. Tony and Mr. Nose have disappeared with your pensions. As if I care.

What has two thumbs and does not give a hoot? This guy. I’m out of here. I’m shaving my beard and moving to Florida. If I see any of you within a thousand miles of me, I am inventing a new sport, elf bowling.

So long losers,

The Big Guy