you can't fire me, i quit. (not really)

In an effort to bust a hole in the myth that Santa really does know if I've been bad or good, I told a little lie at work today so I could leave an hour earlier than scheduled. Why? Why tempt fate this close to Christmas, you ask?

Great bouncing icebergs, people! I've reached the point where I'm finding it difficult to smile and be friendly while people are making their lists, checking them twice, and ultimately saying "fuck it," before looking at me like I'm the elf that can solve their gift buying conundrums.

(The cussing up there? Naughty column. Come and do yer best, Santa. I dares ya!)

Here's the truth. I'm a misfit. Oh, sure, I was all gung-ho back in August when the holiday inventory started arriving, and we were getting the weekly pep talks from management ("Now you come to elf practice, learn how to wiggle your ears and chuckle warmly and go hee-hee and ho-ho and important stuff like that."). But now? I want to be done. I don't care that I only have 10 more retail hours scheduled between now and C-Day. I want to put tar on my radiant red nose and trot off on adventures with a little man who, when he asks if I'd be comfortable showing him my molars and bicuspids, really only wants to check out my molars and bicuspids.

Now that I've confessed to you all, I figure we should get our story straight. If anyone asks, my kindergartner's holiday concert was amazing! Those little angels were sooooo cute! Their performance of Handel's Messiah? Why, I tear up just thinking about it. Let's practice saying it together, shall we? Maybe say it a little slower. And might I suggest you don't make eye contact with Santa, even if he gets in your face and starts yelling and your eyes start to water because you're afraid you'll start to cry, but you'll be all, "No, old man! It's because your beard smells funny!" Hold strong. If Santa calls in his goon squad and they start kicking you in the shins with their cute little shoes, remember the goal - presents!

And know that next time you need someone to cover your back, I'm totally there for you. And if you need me to look up a book for you, I swear to you. No cussing (well, I mean I swear to you. I don't really mean swear swear to you).

Because I like presents, and I shouldn't tempt Santa any more than I may already have.