Mall Santa

7:15 p.m. The center atrium at the mall. A large, temporary structure houses “The North Pole”, an ad-hoc collection of holiday lights and fake snow. Rob weaves his way past a “Closed” sign, through the short maze where a line usually forms, and pokes his head behind the curtain.

ROB: Mall Santa?

MALL SANTA: You must be Ron?

R: Actually, it’s Rob.

MS. Come on in.

Rob enters “The North Pole”. Santa sits on his chair, exhales a large sigh, and takes a long pull from his eggnog.

R: Long day, Mall Santa?

MS. They’re all long now, Rod.

R: It’s Rob. Um, how do you stay the course?

MS. Well, for the kids, of course. But also, the money. Well… plus, once you’re in the chair, in the suit, the rest you can kind of phone in.

R: Hmm. How’d you get into the Mall Santa game?

MS. That’s kind of a funny story. Do you know what SantaCon is? It’s basically a pub crawl where you dress up for holidays. There’s a lot of ugly Christmas sweaters, elves, and a lot of Santa’s. Well, me and a couple of the other Santa’s thought it’d be a good idea if we got our picture taken with Mall Santa. Well, the other Santas stopped at the bar, so I was the only Santa that made it all the way to Mall Santa. And I had a good buzz going but Mall Santa, the guy in the chair, was lit up like a Christmas tree.

R: Oh, man.

MS., He thought I was after his job, so he comes at me. But I wrestled in high school, so I took him down fast and hard. His super saw the whole thing, fires him on the spot. But there’s a line of kids waiting – so he asks me if I want a job. Been in the chair ever since.

R: No kidding?

MS. (To passing elf waving his mug) Hey, Sugarplum, hook a Mall Santa up?

Sugarplum, a girl elf, rolls her eyes, takes his mug.

MS. You want one, Ryan?

R: It’s Rob. What are you drinking?

MS. Egg Nog. Cinnamon. A kiss of nutmeg. And two fingers of whiskey.

R: Oh, ah, thanks. I’m okay, Steve. It’s Steve, right?

MS. Yes, but… please call me Mall Santa.

R: Okay. But one question for Steve. So how do you, Steve, transform into Mall Santa?

MS. Well, of course there are different styles of acting. Classical. Stanislavski, etc. But for me, the way to become Santa is by becoming Santa.

R: You’re a method actor?

MS. That’s right.

R: And have you, Mall Santa, have you ever thought about a different Santa work?

MS. Well, Private Party Santa is a pretty good gig, but the work can be sporadic. I like the idea of Brunch Santa but a couple of Bloody Mary’s later and those things can go downhill quick.

The female elf delivers a mug. Santa takes a drink.

MS. Thanks Sister Elf. Nah, kids aside, Mall Santa is a pretty good gig.

R: Wait. You don’t like… kids?

MS. Well I like the idea of kids. I mean, they’re okay on paper. But in reality… childhood obesity is not great for Mall Santa.

R: I never thought about that.

MS. No one ever thinks about Mall Santa’s lap.

R: What should we think of Mall Santa’s lap?

MS. It should be pitied.

R: Hmm. As a Mall Santa, what are your strengths and weaknesses?

MS. Hmm. I’ve gotta say that I’ve got a solid ho-ho-ho. Early in the day, the first thirty or so, are right there.

R: Jolly?

MS. I was going to say “jocund”.

R: Impressive.

MS. But hos are a muscle. And muscles fatigue.

R: Makes sense. And can you tell me about the mall itself? How does the environment play into the thing?

MS. Well, the mall’s an interesting world. I mean, our North Pole faces…

Mall Santa points. Rob turns around and sees Victoria’s Secret.

R: (Looks behind) Oh, yikes. That’s not exactly in the holiday spirit, is it?

MS. And directly behind me is a Tommy Bahamas. It just makes the illusion a little harder to pull off.

R: I can see that.

MS. You wanna know the thing that hurts the most?

R: Yes, I do.

MS., I spend my whole day asking kids – what do you want for Christmas? But no one ever asks me – what does Mall Santa want for Christmas?

R: Oh, I never thought about that. (then) What does Mall Santa want for Christmas?

MS. (sips thoughtfully) A Nintendo Game Cube.

R: Oh, I was expecting something a little… deeper. Maybe that’s a good place to end it.

Santa fumbles in his gift bag, digs out a candy cane, and hands it to Rob.

R: Um, thanks. Mall Santa.

MS. Merry Christmas, Ralph.

R: Um, Merry Christmas, Mall Santa.