The Lists

 

“Okay guys, listen up,” said the Head Elf. “You’ve probably heard we’ve got a new Santa this year. So we’ve gotta pull out all the stops to get him up to speed before the Big Night.”

 

Nervous shuffling and murmuring rippled throughout the hall.

 

“Now I know what you’re thinking. It’s February, we’ve only just got last Christmas out of the way, we’ve got plenty of time. But hear me when I say this... in my 247 years of being Head Elf, there hasn’t been a single year when it hasn’t been UP TO THE WIRE.”

 

A little elf at the back put his hand up.

 

“Yes?,” said the Head Elf, all patient impatience.

 

“What does ‘up to the wire’ mean?,” said the little elf.

 

“Is that seriously your question?”

 

“(Yes.)”

 

“Does anyone else not know what ‘up to the wire’ mean?”

 

A few elves put their hands up.

 

“What in the name of Rudolph am I dealing with here...?”

 

Shuffling/murmuring.

 

“Okay, hear this... there is no slacking off on the North Pole. I don’t care if it’s the third of February, Easter Sunday... or bauble jingling Boxing Day. Being a Christmas Elf is the most important job in the world! But if anyone feels like they’re not up to the task of putting smiles on the faces of all the children in the world, then walk away now and get a job in Argos or McDonalds. For those remaining, put on your jangly hats, we’ve got a Santa to train!”

 

There was a smattering of applause and a pathetic ‘whoop’ from somewhere in the hall.

 

“Donner and Blitzen, I’ve got my work cut out...” said the Head Elf.

 

* * *

 

Just out of Santa School, the new Santa sat in his office, wondering where to start. He knew he would have to introduce himself to the workforce soon, but he felt he should first familiarise himself with his surroundings. And come to terms with the monumental task that lay ahead. He picked up a pen and clicked the clicker. Santa Claus is Coming to Town emanated from the writing implement.

 

“Santa Claus...” he said, pensively.

 

He then wrote on a Post-it Note:

 

Christmas 2019

 

“Hmm...” he considered, then pressed a buzzer, which didn’t so much buzz as jangle.

 

“Good morning, Mr Claus, how may I assist you?,” said a perky female voice.

 

“Send in my... um... assistant.”

 

“Right away, Mr Claus.”

 

Two seconds later, the most irrepressibly zippy little elf you can imagine came bounding (and skipping) into the room.

 

“What do we do first?,” said the new Santa, as he scratched his currently-only-stubbly chin.

 

“The Lists!,” said Zippy McZipperson.

 

* * *

 

Back in the day, Zippy McZipperson explained to Santa, the Lists were on enormous rolls of paper, which took up an entire room. Nowadays, of course, it was all done on computer.

 

“How long have you worked here?,” asked Santa.

 

“Two weeks,” said Zippy.

 

After briefly wondering why he didn’t get a more experienced assistant, Santa started scrolling through the spreadsheet.

 

“Do these change as the year progresses?,” said Santa.

 

“What do you mean?,” asked Zippy.

 

“It’s only February, don’t kids move from Naughty to Nice and vice versa?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Reindeers and antlers.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Trees and baubles.”

 

“Still don’t get it.”

 

“Leopards and spots...?”

 

“Oh I see. So kids don’t really change.”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Nor adults.”

 

“So the naughty ones, then, do they not get any presents?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“The ones on the Naughty list, do they get just coal or something?”

 

Zippy looked shocked. “That would be cruel, Santa.”

 

“So what do they get?”

 

“Presents.”

 

“Just like the nice kids?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“So what’s the point of the Lists?”

 

“Um...”

 

* * *

 

The Head Elf was worried. It was always, as he had just said to his workforce, up to the wire, but that was presuming a competent and enthusiastic workforce. This year, however, things just seemed... different.

 

“How’s the wrapping going, Janice?,” he said to the Head Wrapper across the boardroom table.

 

“It’s going fine, Bob,” said Janice. “A little behind schedule, but fine.”

 

A little behind schedule, thought Bob (the Head Elf). And it’s only February.

 

“Trevor, Reindeer Report.”

 

“They’re fine, boss. But a little bored.”

 

“Bored? They shouldn’t have time to be bored! They should be training every day!”

 

“It’s only February, boss.”

 

“I’m quite aware it’s only February, Trevor. What’s your point?”

 

“They don’t need to train every-”

 

“Every day, Trevor! As it has always been and always will be!”

 

“Okay, boss. Sorry, boss.”

 

“Why are you still sitting there?”

 

“Sorry, boss...” - Trevor shuffled out of the boardroom.

 

“And how’s our new Santa, Zippy?”

 

“He’s fine, Head Elf.”

 

“Will everyone stop saying ‘fine’?!”

 

“Sorry, Head Elf.”

 

“And for snowflake’s sake, stop apologising.”

 

“Sor-... um...”

 

“Never mind. What’s Santa doing?”

 

“He’s checking the Lists, boss.”

 

“Good. At least something’s going as it should be.”

 

“Well...”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Nothing, boss.”

 

“Good. Everyone back to work.”

 

The boardroom quickly emptied.

 

* * *

 

Santa did a significant click with his mouse, sat back and said, “Well that’s that job done.”

 

* * *

 

Are there just too many kids? Have we reached some kind of tipping point? Or do the elves just not care enough? Do we need to pay them more? How much hot cocoa can one Christmas Elf drink?

 

He knocked on the door to Santa’s office.

 

“Ho-ho-hold on a minute... okay, come in...”

 

The Head Elf entered.

 

“Hey, Bob. What’s up?”

 

“Oh nothing, really. What you doing, Nick?”

 

“Oh you know. Been checking the Lists.”

 

“Okay. How’s that going?”

 

“Done.”

 

“Done...? What do you mean?”

 

“Finished. All checked.”

 

“Have you checked them twice?”

 

“No need. I did a little Computer Science module at Santa School. I’ve written a little code to check it for me every so often and alert me if anything changes.”

 

“Erm... okay... I’ll leave you to... whatever you’re doing, then.”

 

“See ya, Bob.”

 

“Bye, Nick.”

 

“Oh Bob, before you go...”

 

“What is it, Nick?”

 

“These Lists... what exactly is the, um, point?”

 

“What’s the point? Of the Lists? Well it’s, you know... to see who’s been naughty and nice.”

 

“But what’s the point? They both still get presents.”

 

“Who told you that?”

 

“My assistant. I call him ‘Zippy’.”

 

“That’s his name.”

 

“That’s convenient.”

 

“So Zippy told you the naughty kids and the nice kids both get presents...?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Okay, Nick... Can I get back to you on that one?”

 

“Sure, Bob.”

 

“See ya, Nick.”

 

“Later, Bob.”

 

Bob the Head Elf left the office of the new Santa.

 

* * *

 

Zippy McZipperson played Candy Crush, whilst waiting to be given some work to do.

 

* * *

 

At Santa School, he had learned all about Elf Inspection, Beard Maintenance, Reindeer Husbandry, Sleigh Mechanics, Tinselology and all kinds of boring stuff that he had forgotten. He had learned that the Lists existed, but not really their purpose.

 

“Never mind,” said Nick, as he went off to tinker with a sleigh.

 

* * *

 

“Enter!,” said the Head Elf.

 

“Ah Zippy,” he then said, as Zippy entered.

 

“Sit.”

 

Zippy sat.

 

“What did they teach you at Elf School?”

 

“What do you mean, boss?”

 

“About Santa? What did they teach you about Santa?”

 

“He delivers all the presents on Christmas Eve.”

 

“Correct. And what about the other 364 days?”

 

“Erm...”

 

“What does he check?”

 

“The Lists, boss!”

 

“Well done, Zippy. And then what?”

 

“Well then he...”

 

“He checks them once, he checks them...”

 

“Twice, boss!”

 

“And when he’s checked them twice...?”

 

“He, erm...”

 

“He checks them again. And again. And again! Every day until December the 24th. On December 25th he has a day off. And what do you think he does on December the 26th?”

 

“He checks them again, boss?”

 

“Top marks, Zippy.”

 

“Thank you, boss.”

 

“You’re welcome, Zippy. And what do you think Santa does when he’s not checking the Lists?”

 

“I...”

 

“Nothing!” - the Head Elf banged his desk. Zippy jumped. “Every day, except Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, Santa checks the Lists. He does nothing else. So what do you think would happen if he started to question the purpose of the Lists?”

 

“I don’t underst-”

 

“What do you think would happen if someone told him both naughty children and nice children get presents?”

 

“But isn’t that what-?”

 

“I don’t care if that’s what happens, Zippy! There are things Santa doesn’t need to know!”

 

“But he-”

 

“But what, Zippy?”

 

“But he’s Santa, boss. Shouldn’t he know everything?”

 

“Since when has the head of an organisation known everything?”

 

“I don’t know, boss.”

 

“Exactly right, Zippy. You don’t know. And for that reason... you’re fired!”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Close the door on your way out.”

 

* * *

 

When Santa had finished tinkering with the sleigh, he logged back onto his computer. He did a bit of fiddling and a bit of hacking, then happened upon a folder entitled ‘global security.’

 

“Hm,” he said, as he double clicked on the folder.

 

There were millions of little icons - actually he suspected billions - each with the name of a child. He double clicked one to open it.

 

He saw a boy, about seven years old, picking his nose and flicking it at another boy.

 

He opening the Naughty/Nice spreadsheet and found the name of the child... on the Naughty List.

 

“Figures,” he said.

 

He then double clicked on another icon - a 4 year old girl. Helping her mother with baking.

 

“Obvs,” he said, as he found her name on the Nice List.

 

He did this a few more times, and all the kids were where he thought they should be. Then he double clicked on an icon - a 9 year old boy called Oscar. Oscar King.

 

Oscar was helping an old lady cross a road.

 

Oscar was on the Naughty List.

 

“Oh...” said Santa.

 

Santa pressed his buzzer. Which jangled.

 

“Good afternoon, Mr Claus, how may I-?”

 

“Can you send in Zippy, please?”

 

“I am sorry, Mr Claus, but Zippy is no longer with us.”

 

“Oh I’m terribly sorry...”

 

“It’s okay, Mr Claus, he’s now working at Argos.”

 

“Oh, I thought-”

 

“Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

 

“Could you please put me through to the Head Elf?”

 

“Just one second, please...”

 

Santa was put on hold. After suffering a minute and a half of a very tinny Walking in a Winter Wonderland, an impatient-sounding Bob said, “Um... yes?”

 

“Why are there nice children on the Naughty List, Bob?”

 

“What do you mean, Nick?”

 

“Oscar King,” said Santa, “has just helped an old lady cross a road, and yet he is on the Naughty List.”

 

“How do you kn-?”

 

“Never mind how I know. Can you explain this?”

 

“Naughty children aren’t always naughty, Nick.”

 

“So... what, is there a cut off point? Some kind of threshold? If a child murders someone, then spends the rest of the year being kind to animals, do they get to be on the Nice List?  And how does it even matter, since both naughty and nice kids get presents on Christmas Day? And, I might add, hardened criminals. What’s the deal, Bob?”

 

“There are things you don’t need to know, Nick.”

 

“Things I don’t need to know... and how does that suit you, Bob?”

 

“It means me and the elves do all the work, whilst you deliver some presents one night of the year, spend the rest of the time checking a couple of lists, then get all the credit.”

 

“Well there is that. Except that (a) checking the Lists is as boring as watching reindeer poop dry; and (b) since I implemented my nifty algorithm, I don’t even have that to do.”

 

“I’ve always said putting them on a spreadsheet was a bad idea.”

 

“You can’t push against the tide of progress, Bob.”

 

“So you say, Nick.”

 

“Speaking of things changing, what happened to Zippy?”

 

“He got a job in Argos.”

 

“I know that, Bob. Did you fire him?”

 

“I, um...”

 

“Give him his job back, Bob.”

 

“Okay, Nick.”

 

Santa hung up.

 

* * *

 

Santa abolished the Lists. Since they were pointless anyway. He also deleted everything in the ‘global security’ folder, since it was all a bit stalker-ish. He then had a think about what to do with himself 364 days a year.

 

“Send Zippy in, please,” he said to the perky receptionist whose name he still didn’t know.

 

“No problem, Mr Claus!”

 

In came Zippy. Santa took him to the sleigh hangar, which was, as you might have guessed, full of sleighs.

 

“All those sleighs!,” said Zippy. “I thought-”

 

“There was only one?,” said Santa.

 

“Well yes.”

 

“The most important job of the year requires a few spares.”

 

“I suppose it makes sense.”

 

“It does indeed, McZipperson. Would you, uh... like to ride one?”

 

“Me? Ride a sleigh? Are you serious?”

 

“You did take Sleigh Riding at Elf School, didn’t you?”

 

“Of course, what sensible young elf wouldn’t?”

 

“Then grab a sleigh and some reindeer, young Zippy!”

 

“But are there enough reindeer?”

 

“We have spares of those as well.”

 

“Of course...”

 

Zippy chose the Santamatic 2000 and Santa the Yulematron 2.0. They reindeered up, grabbed their reins and pressed the ignition buttons.

 

“Race you twice around the world!,” said Santa.

 

From that day forth until Christmas Eve, Santa and Zippy raced sleighs, had marathon snowball fights, had Christmas karaoke battles, ate mince pies, drank hot chocolate, played with the presents that the kids were going to get on Christmas Day and had the most fun you can possibly imagine. All while the Head Elf and his minions did all the work and Santa got the credit.

 

“Just as it should be,” said Santa, as he and Zippy shared a hot tub on the 23rd of November.

 

“I love you, Santa,” said Zippy.

 

“Let’s not get carried away now,” said Santa - but in truth, he’d become rather fond of the little fella also.

 

*** Merry Christmas one and all! ***

 

Love from Pepsoid... xxx