He turned to look at me with surprise. “Harper, I thought you would have gone home by now.”
“No, not yet. Do you have a few minutes? I need to talk to you about something.”
He did not look happy. “Sure, we can step into my office.”
I followed him in, closing the door behind us. “It’s been a great day, huh?”
“It is definitely a success. I loved the displays. Artistic, beautiful, and, most of all, effective.”
“Thank you. Me and my team wanted to change up the game a little.”
“I love it. You have someone taking care of the replenishing tonight?”
“Yes. Well, we plan on replenishing some and putting up new ones. We want to highlight more of the high-ticket items.”
“Good plan.”
We were dancing around the real reason I wanted to talk to him. I was sure he knew that as well. “What’s the status of the Santa negotiations?”
Hearing the sentence made me want to laugh. Negotiating with Santa was something I imagined little kids did, not adults who knew the man was nothing more than a marketing ploy. “They won’t budge. They won’t sign the contracts for the year.”
I threw my hands up in there. “Now what? Did you try to appeal to the union head?”
“I don’t know. We aren’t going to cave in to their demands. The union head is a stubborn old fart who has this idea his Santas are kings. I don’t know where they get off making demands.”
The we he referred to were the other business owners in the city. They had their own little union. They were all filthy, stinking rich and tighter than a drum when it came to spending their money. I hated their penny-pinching ways. I understood getting a good deal, but they were cutting off their nose to spite their faces. It made no sense to me.
Christmas was about giving and goodwill. It was about being kind and giving to those with less. The rich bastards had more than enough to give but they didn’t want to part with their money. It wasn’t like the Santas were asking for millions. They were asking for a living wage and a few perks. I didn’t see any of the rich bastards sitting in a chair for eight hours with crying, drooling children climbing all over them. They didn’t have to deal with the mothers demanding Santa look a certain way or make stupid promises.
“If they don’t work, we don’t have a Santa. It’s Christmas. We have to have a Santa. We have customers looking forward to their annual family pictures with Santa. We have the set done and I have to say it is absolutely gorgeous this year.”
He waved a hand. “Find one. How hard can it be? There has to be someone willing to be a fat, jolly dude for a few hours.”
“Bob, we have to do background checks. We have to have someone with experience. We can’t have some pervert playing grab-ass. I can’t just hire anyone. We need someone who knows how to deal with scared kids. We need someone that knows how to get a kid to sit still for thirty seconds. Those are all qualities that need to be taught.”
“Back in my day, anyone could be a Santa.”
“Would it hurt to pay them a little more?”
“It’s not the money,” he barked. “If we give them a little, they are going to want it all.”
“I doubt that. It’s only a little bit. We need a Santa. All of our marketing campaigns hinge on Santa.”
“Hire a scab. There are always scabs. One of those union Santas wants to work. Find him.”
“Pick a scab,” I said with disgust, “and they will retaliate. The Banner name would be smeared.”
He stared at me and I realized I might have been a little loud. The man was my boss. He was part owner and I was guessing he was used to people talking to him in a certain way. Not the way I spoke to him. “I suggest you go out there and find a Santa. If you don’t want to pick a scab because it will weigh heavy on your conscious, then maybe you should think about looking somewhere that doesn’t compromise your morals.”
I took a deep breath. My need to tell him off was strong, but my need to eat and keep a roof over my head was much stronger. “Fine,” I said, biting my tongue.
I turned around and walked out of his office before