Lessons from a Former Elf

The six year old’s little face beamed up at me. In the corner of my eye a woman hovered behind, letting the boy the talking. I smiled at him, replying,
“Nice to meet you, Joe!” My eyes flicked back to the woman, “... and is your Mum looking forward to seeing Santa too?”

He was matter-of-fact. “She’s not my Mum. My Mum’s dead.” And there was my first lesson as Santa’s Official Helper.

Five minutes earlier I’d taken a deep breath and stepped out into the North Pole. Pigtails tightened, striped socks pulled knee-high, my red and white hat cocked just right. It was my first shift at Christmas Kingdom in Australia’s largest department store and I was ready to bring on all of the festive cheer.

And, traumatise young children, it seemed.

I was 18, banking holiday money and didn’t have to work the January sales. These were reasons enough to make Santa’s Helper a dream summer gig. But I wasn’t prepared for how fulfilling the job would be.

In my first week I saw surly seventeen year old boys transform - eyes lighting up like their mothers’ flashing earrings - as I re-introduced them to Santa. I saw kids ask for heartbreaking things, like ‘bringing Daddy home from hospital’ - but I also saw children thank Santa for, ‘making our family really happy’.

It was a candy cane-fuelled rollercoaster of a job and I’d fallen into it without an ounce of training.
I mean, it was 1998 - we received days of instruction - but just not around the things you might expect: like working with kids or, elderly men. It was more around fire drills and break times. In hindsight, this probably wasn’t the ideal preparation, but who cared? I was born for a role that let me dress up, and throw joy around like confetti. The most crucial lessons, I learned on the job.

Like, lesson number one: never refer to the adults as Mum or Dad. Or Grandpa ... Grandpa is inevitably an older Dad, who’s on his 32nd Santa visit and not in the mood to be reminded of it. Instead, ask “and who have you brought with you today?” The most memorable answer was, “This is Dad’s parole officer.” If that was a joke, I raise my Santa hat at that five year old girl. Well played, my little friend.

Lesson two: You’ll pick up name trends real fast. But whatever you do, don’t comment on them. In 1998, Pride & Prejudice was still repeating on ABC and every third boy was called Darcy. I learned not to say, “Oh! A fan of Colin Firth, are we!?” Because the mother would look frosty and snap, “No. It’s a family name.*”
(*hint - it was never a family name).

Lesson three: Any child between six months and three years will cry. You’ll ask their ages whilst lining up, and when you find they’re in the ‘Wail Window’ you’ll smile brightly at the adults, “OK! You may have to sit on Santa’s knee with little Sarah!” The parents would always disagree. “Oh no. She loves Santa. It’ll be fine.”

Cut to me, dancing around behind the camera waving a bell while the kid, perched on Father Christmas’ knee, screamed with genuine terror. “Should we keep going?” we’d shout, over the noise of the bell.
And the screaming.

It surprised me how many adults were so persistent. To be fair though, the crying- photos are definitely the funniest, and work best for future 21st speeches.

Lesson four: things can be just good. I’m tipping nowadays the training is a lot more thorough due to HR and stuff. But back then, the (mostly) young women who worked as Santa Helpers and the (always) elderly gents who did the ahem ‘special job’, happily shared the tiny back break room. It was hot, so the gents would strip down to their Chesty Bonds singlets and big red trousers ... but don’t worry, 21st century cynics. While they snacked on the morning-tea their wives had packed for them, we’d read out the really special Santa letters to one another. There was lots of laughs, and fascinating stories from the older blokes. It was incredibly wholesome. It taught me that sometimes, there’s no dark side and people are just ... nice.

I went on to work three Christmas seasons with Santa. It was one of the best jobs I ever had - and how could it not be? I saw real magic, every day.

This year, twenty years after I hung up my Santa hat, I stood in the queue at the same store with my child. I watched the cheery young staff, all in stripy socks and jaunty hats. A young Helper welcomed my daughter, and asked her name. Then, followed by a glance my way, she asked “... and who have you brought with you today?”

~ This piece was first published over on the wonderful Not So Mumsy ~