You’re not going to believe this, but a couple of days before Halloween, I got a letter from Santa Claus.
It came to me through the magic of e-mail, not from the North Pole, as I would surely expect, but from an address that was well below the 49th parallel. Perhaps it was sent by one of his elves, or maybe he was just down there on some holidays before the big push at Christmas.
On the other hand he could have been down there personally checking on what shenanigans unemployed Geo. Bush will now be up to. Never-the-less, it makes no-never-mind to me from where, or what route it took in getting here, the fact is it was addressed personally to me, and here it is with just a couple of slight, (because I have editors), alterations.
Dear Barrie Hopkins,
Believe you me, having to smile and be jolly every day when you’re wearing the same thick, hot, red-wool suit (that itches like crazy) is no picnic. This is a job that will definitely strain your sanity and drain your ego if you let it. Seems like everyone wants a piece of me. Yet many of the people I serve question my existence … or just plain don’t believe in me at all. And those who do believe often expect me to do the impossible – rarely caring about what I have to do, or go through (including chimneys), to meet their expectations.
There’s no doubt that my biggest challenges come from two roles that people rarely associate with this red-cheeked, bag-carrying sleigh driver: Santa the Manager and Santa the Leader. I am, after all, running a business here. I’m a boss. I’ve got responsibilities – both to the gift-getters and the gift-makers.
There are workers to lead, letters to read, orders to fill, processes to manage, stuff to buy, stuff to make, standards to maintain, new technologies to adopt, skills to develop, elf problems to solve, and reindeer droppings to scoop (although I delegate that one.) Trust me, I’ve got some big and not-always-easy-fitting boots to fill.
Like most managers, I have to deal with marketplace fluctuations (“Dear Santa, I thought I wanted that, but now I want this.”). And I’ve seen more than my share of budget cuts, staff reductions, employees who are either unwilling or unable to adjust to change, technology advancements, increasing demands for higher quality and better service, fluctuations in economy, competing priorities, ever-growing performance expectations (for all of us), and a whole lot more. Whew.
No, it’s not easy being Santa Claus. But in spite of that, I love what I do. People need me … They depend on me. We’re doing something important here. And knowing that gives me the energy to carry the sack, lead the pack, and keep coming back. By now, you may be wondering how I meet all of these many challenges and responsibilities, how I manage to bring everyone and everything together to complete our mission. Some people think I use magic. But really, there’s no magic about it. Z-z-z-z z-z-z-z z-z-z-z.
* * *
That’s were Santa’s email ended, I think he fell asleep; he is overworked you know.
And I think it is time that we help him out. I was going to send a whole pile of my books up to the North Pole by UPS, but then I got to thinking, books are heavy, they would just load the sleigh down too much and slow down his eight reindeer, so I have decided to spread them around so he can easily pick them up for anyone who wants them for Christmas.
So I’ve gathered up a big pile of them and I have placed them here and there all over the county.
This was an idea the Little Lady gave me in a dream last night, to help Santa out. You can help Santa out too. You can pick up copies at Roxanne’s Reflections Book & Card Shop, The Country Forge, Pennywise Books and More, Abby Rose Floral Boutique, The Elora General Store, and The Belwood Country Market.
But if you want it signed by the guy who wrote it, you can pick up one, or a wheelbarrow load, at my house, 233 St Andrew Street East in Fergus. That’s a stone cottage, three doors east, same side, of Tim Horton’s downtown.
Take care, ‘cause we care.
Email barrie@barriehopkins.ca or call 519-843-4544.