The Santa Express

He had raised five children and claimed to know what gifts were appropriate for whom. When a child asked, Santa Bell said no, he would not deliver puppies, kittens, iguanas, Ricky Martin or anything that was alive. Neither would he bring anything that kills. This goes for guns, trampolines and any gift that requires gasoline. Santa had treated too many kids in the emergency room for any of that. Santa also declined to bring any dismember-and-cannibalize-the-enemy video games. If parents wanted their child to have these things, parents could put their names to them. But "I as Santa will not condone it."

To the obviously poor child, he suggested an inexpensive present, as a hedge against disappointment. To young gluttons, he said simply, "That is an excessive wish list." To those who wanted Pokémon or Barbie, he generally said okay. Pokémon seemed a gentle game, and as he saw it, parents who are worried about Barbie "need to spend a whole lot of time on their knees grateful that's all they have to be worried about."

Depending on the photo and the conversation, the whole thing took about five minutes. No parents ever said Santa Bell spent too much time with their child, but they did complain of waiting in line for hours. A few griped that Santa had promised something they had not intended to buy. Booth, the mall's marketing director, who by now had noticed that she was not listed among the good little girls, called Sepia to report a few problems.

Santa was doing about 300 pictures a day when Eddie McGregor stopped by. He had black hair, a black goatee and that irrepressible positive attitude. He seemed to be Jeff Angelo's clone. At break time, Eddie followed Santa back to his locker and said as he lightly clapped his hands, "I've seen the little thing you do with the candy cane and the hugs and the whole schmear, and I think you've got great things going on. But we have a few things to discuss, and that's the financial end of the Santa business. We're about 25 percent off where we need to be."

Santa Bell told Eddie that he appreciates the importance of what he's saying, "but there's an appliance in here that's even more important," and he headed for the toilet.

A minute later, when he returned, Eddie told him there had been some staff changes. A new manager would be working the set, and "what we need to do is not take away the love or the magic, but step it up a bit." Need to get a picture in the first ten or 12 seconds. Santa can have his "magic time" while the picture prints. Eddie would talk to the staff, but he needed Santa's commitment to get with the program.

Santa Bell nodded. Eddie looked around and asked if he had been spraying antibacterial agent on "that thing," by which he meant the red suit. Santa kind of grunted this time, and Eddie, having said all he'd come to say, gave his firm handshake and went about his business.

Isn't it funny?" Santa Bell said afterward. "It's like a training tape for the power of positive management. I've seen it in the Marine Corps, in construction, and now they're trying to bring it into Christmas."

Eddie was the third manager who had told Santa to speed it up. Santa felt a conflict of interest, since time and attention were really all that he had for a child. Nonetheless, he condensed his conversations. He ceased asking a child's age and also began assuming the child had been good. The new manager urged him to pick it up, pick it up, even when the line was short. She arrived with a reputation for meeting her quotas and reminded Santa of an old drill instructor.

Two day-care centers came through one afternoon, desiring no paid portraits. The manager turned Santa into an assembly line then. No sooner had the child touched the lap than she removed him. Santa Bell's mood darkened considerably. He began referring to management as "the glucose gestapo." He did not hug them, or the elves, either.

He's not the sweet, amicable person away from the stage he needs to be," Angelo observed. On December 9 the CEO decided to make a personal visit to First Colony to sort out Santa's problems.

Santa recalls it as "another glucose session." Angelo told him again he needed to have less "interface" with the children. Perhaps it was best if he didn't talk about gifts at all. "Your real job is to hold the kid, so we can get a good picture."

Bell trudged back to his throne. These motivational talks did nothing for him. He was a beard and a lap -- nothing more. He thought it could get no worse, when at precisely seven o'clock, it did. Mall security opened the doors, and around the corner came dozens of people with dozens of dogs.

"What's this?" Santa Bell asked.

Dog and cat night, said Angelo. Surely someone from marketing had told him?

No, in fact, he was never told anything about dog and cat night, and it was not in his contract, either. He had agreed to provide services only to children, and it seemed wrong for the children to wait while he sat with a dog. "Dogs and cats have nothing to do with Christmas and kids, so I tell you what -- this will be my last shift."