I would chuckle quietly because I knew better. A select few of my friends knew better too because, like me, Santa phoned them personally every year. I figured if these other fools weren't being called, Santa must have had his reasons; the poor schmucks.
Two or three weeks before Christmas the phone would ring, my Dad would answer then turn to me and say, "Somebody wants to talk to you". I'd know immediately who it was. Even before I took the handset I'd hear a hearty "HO-HO-HO!" and I'd know beyond a doubt, Santa was right there on the other end!
The actual conversations were much the same every year. He'd ask if I'd been good and I'd slam him with the usual litany; I'd been keeping my grades up, going to church, keeping my room clean, listening to my folks and so on. At this point one of my older brothers would make a dramatic grab for the phone, hollering, "Hey! Let me talk to this guy!" Miraculously, they never managed to wrestle it away from me. Next would come, "What would you like for Christmas this year?" and I'd rattle off the years list by rote. This close to Christmas, it was etched into my brain like a tattoo.
Each year I'd drop Santa a line shortly after my mid-October birthday. I figured he'd have a ton of letters to go through before the big day and it was common knowledge that Santa's elves filled the orders as they came in. Because I'd mailed mine in October, I was certain it would be one of the first processed. It sounds greedy now but at the time, I considered it covering my bases.
When Santa called after my 10th birthday, he mentioned this would be the last one. He said the number of younger kids was increasing and his call list was getting a little hard to handle. All I needed to do was keep the letters coming and of course he had the whole "I'll know if you've been bad or good" thing going, so the process would continue as it always had. I was totally fine with his explanation.
By the time he stopped calling, I was into hockey, school was taking up a little more time and of course, there were girls. Slowly, thoughts of a magical old fat guy miraculously showing up each year with presents just... sort of ... faded away.
Flash forward to my early thirties. Dad called and asked if I'd attend a funeral with him. Twelve years older than my Dad, Jimmy Parsons served with him in the RCAF during WWII. He was also my Canadian Legion boxing coach for thirteen terrifying months. Coach Parsons was a fine man and I was honored to attend the services, particularly with my Dad.
There was a tea afterwards and Dad introduced me to Jim's widow, Alice. "Oh so you're the one", she gushed. "Jim asked me to give you this. Of all the kids he talked to, he always enjoyed your conversations the most. You were always such a polite, organized little guy!"
Clueless, I looked down at the tattered binder she'd handed me. Opening it, I found a list of 17 kids names, their ages, genders, likes and dislikes, phone numbers and the names of their Moms and Dads, all carefully hand-written in tidy columns. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Jim Parsons was Santa Claus! And I'd been given his "makin' a list and checkin' it twice" ledger, with nary an idea of exactly what to do with it!
The first year was an eye opener. I fully expected everything to go smoothly but instead, I received hands-on lessons in "management by crisis" and "scenario adaptability" within the first 3 calls.
The first roadblock I encountered was skepticism. "HO-HO-HO! THIS IS SANTA CALLING! WHO AM I SPEAKING TO?"
"You phoned me so you should know. You're not Santa! Who is this?!? MAAAAAAAA!!!!" shrieked little Dougie as the handset hit the floor.
Soon Mom came to the phone and we quickly developed a strategy. Once Mom had Dougie back on the line, I referred to the notes left by my predecessor and asked the little guy how his guitar lessons were going. He warmed right up, we had our little Q and A and young Doug hung up the phone, a very happy camper.
The next few calls went smoothly and my confidence slowly began to build. This Santa stuff was not only an effective way to get into the Christmas spirit and fun for the kids, it was easy! Then I called five year old Meredith.
We'd established what a good little girl she'd been; she'd even stopped tormenting her 8 year old brother. She began listing off what she wanted for Christmas. There were only 2 or 3 items on her list, and the last one went as follows. "My Daddy died at Easter but I want him to come for Christmas dinner then he can go back to stay at Jesus' house, okay?"
I heard Mom gasp in the background as I harrumphed and hemmed, struggling for an appropriate reply. Finally I rumbled in my best Santa voice, "I'm sorry honey, but I can't do that last one. Is that okay?"
"Okay", she replied. "Wanna talk to my Mom again? I'm goin' to Judy's house for spaghetti dinner, with really garlic toast!" As the years progressed, this would not be the only time I would marvel at a child's resiliance.
In the beginning I called the kids from the Coach's list exclusively but as each child approached his or her tenth birthday, the list diminished accordingly until there were virtually no children left.
I can't recall exactly who it was but someone I worked with suggested I approach my co-workers with an offer to have Santa contact their children. I floated the idea verbally to a number of people first, with positive results. Eventually I penned an internal memo and stated I knew Santa personally and if anyone was interested, I would ask him to call their children.
There were a lot of questions at first but a few people signed up and afterwards they told others how their kids had horoughly enjoyed the experience. The list soon expanded from 10 children to 25 or 30.
Over the next 15 years the list grew in numbers as well as company exposure. Each year it seemed another TELUS area would hear about this clown in Change Management playing Santa and sign their kids up. At the list's peak the number surpassed 250 children! Still, the program had it's growing pains:
Santa had to start specifying a preferred date and time for the call as a result of "missing" the odd child and having an irate parent on his butt the very next day.
Santa had to be certain every adult in the household was aware of his impending call after one unaware, seething Dad offered to kick Santa's "pervert ass" for him.
Each year I'd drop Santa a line shortly after my mid-October birthday. I figured he'd have a ton of letters to go through before the big day and it was common knowledge that Santa's elves filled the orders as they came in. Because I'd mailed mine in October, I was certain it would be one of the first processed. It sounds greedy now but at the time, I considered it covering my bases.
When Santa called after my 10th birthday, he mentioned this would be the last one. He said the number of younger kids was increasing and his call list was getting a little hard to handle. All I needed to do was keep the letters coming and of course he had the whole "I'll know if you've been bad or good" thing going, so the process would continue as it always had. I was totally fine with his explanation.
By the time he stopped calling, I was into hockey, school was taking up a little more time and of course, there were girls. Slowly, thoughts of a magical old fat guy miraculously showing up each year with presents just... sort of ... faded away.
Flash forward to my early thirties. Dad called and asked if I'd attend a funeral with him. Twelve years older than my Dad, Jimmy Parsons served with him in the RCAF during WWII. He was also my Canadian Legion boxing coach for thirteen terrifying months. Coach Parsons was a fine man and I was honored to attend the services, particularly with my Dad.
There was a tea afterwards and Dad introduced me to Jim's widow, Alice. "Oh so you're the one", she gushed. "Jim asked me to give you this. Of all the kids he talked to, he always enjoyed your conversations the most. You were always such a polite, organized little guy!"
Clueless, I looked down at the tattered binder she'd handed me. Opening it, I found a list of 17 kids names, their ages, genders, likes and dislikes, phone numbers and the names of their Moms and Dads, all carefully hand-written in tidy columns. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Jim Parsons was Santa Claus! And I'd been given his "makin' a list and checkin' it twice" ledger, with nary an idea of exactly what to do with it!
The first year was an eye opener. I fully expected everything to go smoothly but instead, I received hands-on lessons in "management by crisis" and "scenario adaptability" within the first 3 calls.
The first roadblock I encountered was skepticism. "HO-HO-HO! THIS IS SANTA CALLING! WHO AM I SPEAKING TO?"
"You phoned me so you should know. You're not Santa! Who is this?!? MAAAAAAAA!!!!" shrieked little Dougie as the handset hit the floor.
Soon Mom came to the phone and we quickly developed a strategy. Once Mom had Dougie back on the line, I referred to the notes left by my predecessor and asked the little guy how his guitar lessons were going. He warmed right up, we had our little Q and A and young Doug hung up the phone, a very happy camper.
The next few calls went smoothly and my confidence slowly began to build. This Santa stuff was not only an effective way to get into the Christmas spirit and fun for the kids, it was easy! Then I called five year old Meredith.
We'd established what a good little girl she'd been; she'd even stopped tormenting her 8 year old brother. She began listing off what she wanted for Christmas. There were only 2 or 3 items on her list, and the last one went as follows. "My Daddy died at Easter but I want him to come for Christmas dinner then he can go back to stay at Jesus' house, okay?"
I heard Mom gasp in the background as I harrumphed and hemmed, struggling for an appropriate reply. Finally I rumbled in my best Santa voice, "I'm sorry honey, but I can't do that last one. Is that okay?"
"Okay", she replied. "Wanna talk to my Mom again? I'm goin' to Judy's house for spaghetti dinner, with really garlic toast!" As the years progressed, this would not be the only time I would marvel at a child's resiliance.
In the beginning I called the kids from the Coach's list exclusively but as each child approached his or her tenth birthday, the list diminished accordingly until there were virtually no children left.
I can't recall exactly who it was but someone I worked with suggested I approach my co-workers with an offer to have Santa contact their children. I floated the idea verbally to a number of people first, with positive results. Eventually I penned an internal memo and stated I knew Santa personally and if anyone was interested, I would ask him to call their children.
There were a lot of questions at first but a few people signed up and afterwards they told others how their kids had horoughly enjoyed the experience. The list soon expanded from 10 children to 25 or 30.
Over the next 15 years the list grew in numbers as well as company exposure. Each year it seemed another TELUS area would hear about this clown in Change Management playing Santa and sign their kids up. At the list's peak the number surpassed 250 children! Still, the program had it's growing pains:
Santa had to start specifying a preferred date and time for the call as a result of "missing" the odd child and having an irate parent on his butt the very next day.
Santa had to be certain every adult in the household was aware of his impending call after one unaware, seething Dad offered to kick Santa's "pervert ass" for him.
When submitting a child's name, many parents would ask Santa to tell the child he or she "wouldn't be getting anything at all" if they "didn't straighten out their act" or "get at least a C in math" or "stop talking back". I advised these well-meaning folks that mine was not a particularly vengeful, demanding Santa and would not operate in a threatening way.
Santa gained a ton of credibility when TELUS began changing my caller i.d. each October through January to read "Santa Claus - North Pole"!
TELUS gained a ton of credibility with Santa when they stepped up to cover the long distance fees for Santa's calls each year. (Note - Santa was not only relieved financially, this move also greatly decreased the lumps of coal he'd been delivering to TELUS executives).
Each New Year Santa would get at least one call or e-mail from a disgruntled parent of one of the 250+ kids who for some reason didn't get a call, didn't believe they were talking to Santa, thought Santa didn't "sound right" etc.
Each New Year Santa received dozens of e-mails and calls from grateful parents, often including requests for repeat calls the following Christmas.
Upon my retirement from TELUS, maintaining the list became extremely difficult and after two fumbling, operationaly difficult years, Santa regrettably discontinued the calls.
To this day he misses that rare child who'd drop the phone, unable to speak, then howl indignantly when Santa had no choice but to hang up after a few minutes of silence (worry not, Santa always called back).
He misses the repeat kids who, cool as cucumbers, would say breezily, "Oh hi Santa. How was your year? And Mrs Claus, how is she? Are Rudolph and the gang all rested up? If you're ready, my list is right here."
Finally, each year there would be at least one tiny kid who'd end his or her call with a whispered, "Santa.....I love you." With these, Santa would almost always have to wait a bit before moving on to his next call.
The Christmas season's still Santa's favorite, of course, but it will never be quite the same. I'm not certain but he may be waiting for another TELUS employee to pick up the challenge. Should that ever happen, I'd bet my life that person would begin re-experiencing Christmas with the same sense of wonder he remembers from his childhood.
Upon my retirement from TELUS, maintaining the list became extremely difficult and after two fumbling, operationaly difficult years, Santa regrettably discontinued the calls.
To this day he misses that rare child who'd drop the phone, unable to speak, then howl indignantly when Santa had no choice but to hang up after a few minutes of silence (worry not, Santa always called back).
He misses the repeat kids who, cool as cucumbers, would say breezily, "Oh hi Santa. How was your year? And Mrs Claus, how is she? Are Rudolph and the gang all rested up? If you're ready, my list is right here."
Finally, each year there would be at least one tiny kid who'd end his or her call with a whispered, "Santa.....I love you." With these, Santa would almost always have to wait a bit before moving on to his next call.
The Christmas season's still Santa's favorite, of course, but it will never be quite the same. I'm not certain but he may be waiting for another TELUS employee to pick up the challenge. Should that ever happen, I'd bet my life that person would begin re-experiencing Christmas with the same sense of wonder he remembers from his childhood.
Ohhh ... I can't believe you did the to be continued on this story ! Damn!
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