INTERVIEWER (I): 

SANTA (S):  

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, we are honored—truly honored—to have a very special guest. A man known around the world. A legend. A symbol of joy, generosity, and childhood wonder. Please welcome… Santa Claus!

S:
Let’s get this over with.

I:
Santa! How are you today?

S:
Lousy.

I:
Lousy?

S:
Oh, don’t look so surprised. I’m 1,742 years old. At my age, “lousy” is a good day.

I:
Wow. Well, thank you for being here. How’s the holiday season going?

S:
You mean the twelve months of unpaid overtime followed by one night of OSHA violations? That holiday season?

I’m tired.
I’m not “holiday tired.”
I’m “my knees predict rain” tired.

You know you’re old when your body does weather updates.
“Santa, is it going to snow?”
“I don’t know, but my left hip says yes.”

I:
Are there heirs? Future Santas?

S:
That’s the problem. Nobody wants the job anymore.

I:
Why not?

S:
Let me list it slowly.
No days off.
No sick leave.
No Complaint Department.
Worldwide travel in one night with livestock.
And everyone blames you when their kid turns out weird.

I:
So your family opted out?

S:
My youngest said, “I don’t believe in Santa.” I said, “Good. Then you’re not Santa.” He cried. I laughed. It was Christmas.

My daughter thought about it, but I had to explain to her that it just wouldn’t work.

I:
Let’s talk about the elves.

S:
Unionized.

I:
Unionized?!

S:
Oh yes. Full collective bargaining. Dental. Vision. Rudolph and Prancer have therapists now.

I:
Isn’t that good?

S:
They went on strike three days before Christmas.

I:
What did they want?

S:
Shorter shifts. Longer breaks. Shoes. Apparently pointy hats are “demeaning.”

I:
Are they right?

S:
Don’t take their side.

I:
How’s the sleigh holding up?

S:
It’s a flying antique.

I:
That sounds magical.

S:
It sounds drafty. And loud. And smells like reindeer.

The sled had to be armored.  We now fly over some dangerous countries.

I’m now belted in with a harness in case the reindeer must take evasive actions.

They’ve been practicing combat awareness all year.  They now wear flak vests.  Can you imagine?  Times are different.  It’s dangerous out there, especially over Afghanistan, Syria and Somalia.  

And I sit behind them. They fart like Congress avoids questions. Try that all night.

Rudolph almost got his nose shot off by a surface-to-air missile last year. He lost 10 percent of the light.  I had to put additional lights on Dancer and Prancer.  They’re not happy about that.  They now want combat pay.

I:
Reindeer smell?

S:
You ever sit in a sled with eight animals eating fermented moss?

I:
No.

S:
Then you don’t know fear.

I:
But Rudolph—

S:
Oh, Rudolph’s fine. Big star. Very demanding.

I:
Really?

S:
Won’t fly without his own dressing room. Red nose? Needs polishing.  TLC with the nose since he got hit with flak from that missile. Calls himself a “Disabled Reindeer.” He’s starting his own organization.

I:
And the others?

S:
Fart. Constantly. Eight reindeer farting in unison at 30,000 feet.

I:
That’s… festive?

S:
It’s biological warfare.

I:
You still come down chimneys?

S:
Allegedly.

I:
Allegedly?

S:
People don’t put their fires out anymore.

I:
That’s dangerous.

S:
For me. Last year, I lost an eyebrow in Ohio.

I:
Have you considered another entry method?

S:
Everything’s got security and cameras,

I:
Let’s clear up a classic tradition. Milk and cookies?

S:
A lie.

.

S:
Pure television fiction. Ninety percent of the time it’s a stale cookie and almond milk. And for some, baking lessons might help.

It’s what you see on TV.

I:
What do you want?

S:
Black coffee.
Possibly a latte.

I’m lactose intolerant now. Comes with age

I:
You still read letters from children?

S:
Unfortunately, yes.

I:
What do they ask for these days?

S:
Things I can’t pronounce.
Devices I can’t afford.

How I can get rid of a sister or brother?

I:
Do adults write too?

S:
All the time.

I:
What do they want?

S:
Parking spaces. Lower taxes. Hair.

I:
Can you deliver?

S:
I’m Santa, not a wizard.

I:
How have things changed over the years?

S:
Surveillance.

I:
You mean the “naughty or nice” list?

S:
I mean cameras. security doorbells. Drones. One kid livestreamed me last year.

I:
What happened?

S:
Went viral. Comments were brutal.

I:
Are you on social media?

S:
Against my will.

I:
TikTok?

S:
Don’t say that word.

I:
Instagram?

S:
Filters lie. I look like a mall Santa with opinions.

I:
How do you feel about Mall Santas?

S:
Union scabs.

I:
They mean well.

S:
One asked me for directions.

I.

Do you ever take a vacation?

26. December 26.

I:
What happens December 26?

S:
We vanish.

I:
Where?

S:
Palm Beach, Florida. We have a condo there

I:
Why Florida?.

S:
Sun.
Silence.
Nobody asks me for gifts.
They just complain about taxes and weather, like normal people.

I:

Don’t people recognize you there?

S.

I shave and get a haircut.  I have a whole year to grow it back.  We are known as Sam and Rose Klausinsky.

I.

Did they ever ask you what you did for a living?

1. S. I tell them I worked for the Secret Service and I’m sworn to secrecy.

I:
Have you thought about retiring?

S:
Every December 26th.

I:
What would you do?

S:
Sleep. Sit. Eat soup. Watch television without seeing myself.

I:
Ever consider running for office?

S:
I already promise things I can’t deliver and get blamed for inflation. Why downgrade?

I:
Any holiday message?

S:
Yes.
Be kinder.
Tip workers.
Put out the fire.
And for the love of me, leave coffee. And the light on in the bathroom.