“—They’re wonderful, of course…”
“But we don’t pay them.”
“Of course we do. We feed them—“
“They cook the food—“
“We house them—“
“They clean and maintain the property—“
“We sing with them—“
“That’s not a payment.”
Finally, I stumped her. But not for long. “Honey. The elves don’t work for us. They work for Christmas. They work for all the boys and girls that celebrate and honor the spirit of joy and good-will. The toys, the chores, the spreading of cheer all come from their hearts—it’s what they are and what they do. The elves work for themselves because of their love for Christmas.”
It sounded all quite simple and romantic, especially with the poetry and passion Mrs. Claus decorated with such fine elegance. But this side of the coin wasn’t any news for me to treasure. This is what I had been thinking about for the past two hours. Of course she was right. The elves work for themselves in the spirit of giving, for the season of goodwill. But they also work for me. And by denying them direct compensation, am I not taking advantage of their time and talents and kindnesses to push my own peaceful agenda which happens to coincide with theirs? The flip side of the coin clearly casted a most disturbing depiction: slave labor.
Alas, the blistering chill of the North Pole’s night had burned through my windows to shade and freeze my soul. Mrs. Claus would say I was being dramatic, which, in part, was why I ceased the conversation. The love of my life was not grasping the bare trepidations that frightfully consumed me, and to adjust that perspective I would have had to bring her entirely into my haunted abyss. Was her comfort worth my corruption—I decided not.
It wasn’t a sleepless night. I had already burrowed my way to the root of the matter. I had already been battered by the reality of my ignorance. The shock and disturbance of it all was settling. Now what was docking was the question of what to do next.
Lying in bed, in the dark under covers, beside my sleeping spouse, I stared at the ceiling contemplating the new day. My enlightenment was offering me great hope, but I was so eager to unwrap it that I almost tripped over the irony. In this moment I was entirely entangled in the egocentric mindset that had kept me so selfishly starved. The gift was not seeing the possibility for change, but in sharing it. I realized my duty was to serve the elves by bringing my problem to them. They would have to be part of the solution if they were to be equals moving forward.
***
The next few days saw a spectacle of activity. Elves work in shifts, in different capacities and departments. Careful not to disrupt workflow too greatly, I took turns pooling large groups together where I could announce openly my grievances and ask for questions and feedback. More questions than complaints came in. With each group more confusion spread. The elves didn’t feel mistreated; they didn’t feel taken advantage of. I was happy to hear this but not deterred. Fair is fair regardless of perception. Their complacent mentality was just as learned and lax as mine had been. There may not have been a greater issue beyond my personal epiphany to discover, but no elf would know unless they had the freedom and encouragement to think about it.
So discussions and debates ensued, and points and opinions were expressed.
“I always wondered what it was like to be you,” Scott said with a sparkle of envy. “To be the one to actually deliver the gifts. To see the faces on the children.”
Speaking for me, Elvis jumped in, “Santa doesn’t see the faces. He’s down the chimney and up before a child’s dream changes.”
“What about the mall?”
“He’s got a tougher job than you think, you know? Working the mall is exhausting. We got the easy job here, right Santa?”
The workshop came to resemble an informal office party. Conversation spilled between pockets of elf gatherings; lively chatter flowed through the room as frequently as hot cocoa. Some mugs sported small marshmallows, others large ones. I couldn’t decide if I had a preference anymore.
Work did not cease entirely. Many elves continued on projects. Mrs. Claus, fascinated by all the various points of view, circled the room to listen in. As well, she took an active role in bringing the working elves fresh, steaming hot cocoa, carrying with her bags of both big and little marshmallows.
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