Santa's workshop stops amid rumors an elf is going to be fired. 750 words max. |
In all my years as the Manager of Operations here, I had never seen anything like this. Paranoia reached unprecedented levels that night. In reality, though, is it really paranoia if genuine ineptitude is the cause of the trepidation? Is it an unreasonable fear that forces are out to get you if forces are, in fact, out to get you. One could argue that paranoia is not the case in that situation, and that ‘astute’ might be a more appropriate descriptor. Elves usually enjoy a fair degree of job security, but for one elf, that job security was about to disappear. At first I wasn’t really sure which elf actually started the rumor, but based on numerous discreet interviews with supervisors and co-workers, I concluded it was Russell. All indications were that Russell started the rumor to divert attention away from his own constant screw ups on the factory floor. He had been counseled several times for various infractions including attempting to sell contraband candy canes to the Norwegian Trolls, failure to properly secure classified blueprints for the Tickle-Me-Elmo doll, and several incidents of reporting back to work after having one too many hot cocoas at lunch. All this was on paper, of course, but the truth is, it’s just not that easy to fire an elf from Santa’s Workshop. For all the bad things Russell was, he was also very intelligent, and extraordinarily perceptive. Russell knew that his constant brushes with the authorities would eventually catch up with him, and he deduced that the only way to get the heat off himself, was to cast it on as many other elves as possible. Russell started the rumor just two days before Christmas that an elf was going to be let go in order to create mass hysteria in the plant. He knew that if the elves were too busy worrying about which one of them would be out of a job come December 26th, they would not possibly be able to fill their toy quotas, Santa would have to delay his take off, and children in Australia would not get their Christmas presents on time. I was going to have to make my case to the Boss that Russell needed to be let go immediately. “How did this happen,” asked Santa sadly, “we haven’t let an elf go in 200 years, and I think we all remember how that ended.” I shivered as I reflected on that incident. It was not pretty. “Santa,” I began, “Russell is spreading this rumor to the other elves in the hopes that they’ll be too busy worrying about loosing their jobs to focus on making toys. He’s counting on the fact that there really isn’t a darn thing else for elves to do once they’ve been let go from here.” I paused for a brief second to let this point sink in, but started again before the Boss could cut in. I was rolling. “Santa, I know I don’t have to tell you that the factory floor is the big time.” I made a point to walk over to the window, and gesturing vehemently, I continued, “these elves have all paid their dues to get here, and now Russell is threatening to tear down this entire operation!” The last bit may have been a slight exaggeration, but it had the effect I’d wanted. Santa nodded. “I see what you’re saying,” Santa said softly, stroking his beard. His brow furrowed slightly, and he appeared concerned as he asked, “won’t firing Russell leave a pretty big gap in sporting goods?” I’d anticipated the question, and had a response ready. “Sir, Alice has been assistant manager down there for over seventy-five years. She’s ready to step up.” Santa paused, and for one brief moment I was afraid he would give me his famous speech about forgiveness and second chances. I’d heard that speech the other five times I’d asked Santa to fire Russell. I was bracing myself to hear it again when Santa spoke, “Ok George. You’re right. He’s got to go.” Before I could even think of what to say, Santa rose from his giant red chair and walked over to the giant oak filing cabinet by the door and reached in the top drawer. Without another word, Santa walked out of the office with the elf sized pink slip in his left hand. I sank down a bit in my chair. Christmas was going to be all right this year. |