Santa- You Can't Fly - You Don't Comply

Snowflakes overflowed the neat rim of the black bowler hat, beneath which shivered a very short, tubby, man, whose once red cheeks were turning blue. Spasms of cold wracked his body, causing his toothbrush moustache to dance spasmodically and his words to splutter. “I t t told you!” he shouted as pompously as he could, snow spraying off his hat, “I am from the NQN in Brussels here to inspect these premises.”

Elphis was unimpressed, but being good natured, as all Santa’s helpers were, he felt obliged to let the Chief Inspector of the Not Quite Normal Department, Licencing and Inspection Branch, 3rd Directorate of the European Union Enforcement Branch, Brussels, Belgium, into the warmth. Word had filtered through, even to the helpers on the front door, that busybody politicians, sponsored as they were by giant toy companies, were trying to shut Santa down. “It was unfair,” they said, “to have to compete with free, albeit only once per year, and one present per child.” The toy mafia had borrowed their arguments and tactics from the anti-renewables coalition.

Colour soon returned to the NQN Inspector’s cheeks, which were now glowing bright, cherry red. Steam from the hot spiced tea fogged his glasses and melted the last of the snowflakes from his moustache. “Take me to the man in charge. I demand to see Santa. Now!”

Elphis was not used to raised voices and a tear formed at the corner of his eye. Before it could trail down his cheek, it was dabbed away by Santa’s snowy white hanky. “Hello. Welcome. Bienvenue, Welkom. Välkommen, benvenuto, स्वागत हे,benvinguda … I am fluent in 384 languages. Which do you prefer?”

“English is fine,” stammered NQN, a little overawed to finally meet Santa. As a boy in the small Belgian village, he had put out his cookies and milk every Christmas eve. But by the time he was 10, when year after year he never got what he wished for, he no longer believed. He was practical. Pragmatic. Concrete. Which is why he had joined the European Union Enforcement Branch. His first position had been in Totally Ordinary. For 30 years he had been in the sub-branch, Totally Trivial which was 90.99% of all EU Enforcement Operations, before that 3 years in Completely Irrelevant, which was some 8% of activity. To his shock and surprise, after years of enforcing every little rule and regulation to the letter, he was unceremoniously transferred to NQN. At least he wasn’t in the totally dead-end department, Doesn’t Really Exist. DRE employed more than half of all EU staff. He was not sure what they did there, but it was important, why else would they be there and have such a huge budget?

After explaining all this to Santa, he stopped, awed by the impossibly high ceilings and huge open plan factory where thousands of workers were making toys to order. In pride of place, on an ice shelf, Santa’s sleigh glistened in a shimmering light, first golden, then greens, pinks, all the colours of the rainbow and more.

NQN pulled himself together, as befitting a representative of the NQND, LIB, 3rd D EU EB, HQ, Brussels, Belgium (One never abbreviated cities and countries. Rule 247,892 a.). From his briefcase he pulled a large file, bound in red tape, from which he extracted a checklist. “Before you can fly, Santa, I have some questions for you. 364 major questions. 24 sub-parts to each question. Approximately..”

“8,736” said Santa. “I have this thing with numbers, languages, names, requests, places and my favourite, fireplace and chimney design, for which I have a special, though personal, interest. Where shall we start? We have plenty of time. It is after all only midday on the 24th. We have all day.”

NQN had two favourite regulatory areas. Labour Relations and Transportation. He was sure he would find problems there, though perhaps Environmental and Social Responsibility could be fruitful, given the huge amount of heat in the factory. It must be melting the ice up here at the North Pole. “No,” he thought. “Better stick to the easy to win. Put an end to this sham.”

NQN turned to page 124.

“How many staff do you employ?”

“None.”

“None! Really?” NQN was incredulous, pointing to the thousands of workers diligently applying themselves to toy assembly, wrapping, stacking and labelling, complete with GPS way points and fireplace schematics.

“Volunteers. Unpaid. Gratis. Free.”

NQN wrote, “Unpaid slave labour. Mind control. A cult. Breach of rules 1,389 (a) through to rule 2,476 (z) sub-paragraph 47.”

“Hmm. Hmm” NQN hummed happily to himself, turning the page, careful to ensure Santa could not see what he had written. He marched imperiously around the factory jotting notes under the heading Health and Safety violations:

·        Dangerous footwear. (Green and red pointed satin slippers could not possibly comply)

·        Slippery floors. (Ice is a non-approved factory material)

·        Unguarded conveyors. (though on detailed inspection there was no moving belt, or rollers. A minor inconvenience.)

·        No warning or safety signs

·        No rest breaks.

·        No toilet breaks (no toilets either of any configuration, M/F/Uni/T.)

·        Child labour (all workers were less than 1.2 metres tall)

·        Discrimination (where were the women? Tall people? Everyone was grey!)

NQN was certain he would have enough to shut them down, but to be sure, Transportation was his coup de gras, or was it grace? “Your sleigh. Do you mind?” he asked Santa.

“I don’t mind,” Santa smiled, “but she might!” He chuckled to himself breaking the tension that NQN had spread throughout the factory. Thousands of faces turned to Santa and smiled. Toy production accelerated till it became a blur of hands, toys and wrapping. 4 billion and growing. It was harder every year. Production had stretched from less than 1 day, way back, to now where it took almost a whole week.

NQN approached Santa’s sleigh. Page 222. “Flight Worthy Checklist - Commercial and Industrial.”

Defects screamed out at him. He didn’t need a checklist to see all the faults and missing standard requirements. No seatbelts, oxygen masks, clearly marked exits. Safety cards. No smoking signs. Exit signs. Emergency lighting. Escape slides. No doors, emergency or otherwise. Seats and lining made from flammable red velvet. No tread on the tyres, in fact no tyres. NQN scribbled furiously. No radio, radar. No lights. Not even rear reflectors. Worse than a Dutch bicycle, which NQN had to admit were pretty cool.

NQN circumnavigated the sleigh. “Where are the reindeer?” he asked. Secretly, and the only reason he had not refused this assignment, was to pat Rudolph and perhaps indict Santa on animal cruelty, or pollution from uncontrolled emissions while in flight.

“Retired,” replied Santa wistfully. He tapped his wrist controller and a giant screen lit up, showing the reindeer enjoying themselves in the Swiss Alps. “They have lifetime travel benefits. Last week they were in Sydney. They send postcards. I don’t do Snapchat or SMS. Call me old fashioned.”

The sleigh hovered 50mm above the ice. NQN not trusting the sleigh, carefully slid his pen underneath the sleigh’s rails. Clear. Gingerly he put first one finger, then his whole hand. “Amazing,” he thought. But still. He had his rules. His orders. His duty.

“Santa,” he said, handing Santa a non-compliance indictment and slapping a defect notice on the sleigh. “You do not comply. You cannot fly!”

The factory stopped. Not a breath could be heard. Parcels froze in mid-air, suspended by disbelief.

Santa stroked his beard. Took off his red, fake-fur lined robe, tall black boots, shiny black belt and finally his trousers. He stood there, as no-one had seen him before. Blue pin striped, 3-piece suit topped with a black bowler hat. His shiny black shoes matched his briefcase and furled umbrella. Ex-Santa looked in the mirror. Shook his head not liking what he saw. A blink and he was safari ready, all khaki and tan. Blink. Surfer. Blink. Blink. Nothing appealed.

He turned to NQN. “43 years ago, you stopped leaving me milk and cookies,” ex-Santa purred gently. “Do you remember? Jacques?” NQN was startled that ex-Santa knew his name and what had destroyed his belief. Made him the perfect bureaucrat, enforcing rules, regardless!

“Well, here you are. It is Christmas eve. Here I am. Here is the sleigh and to complete your wish, here they are.” A cold gust of wind heralded the arrival of the reindeer through the portal. “You wished to be Santa. Now you are. You thought you were ignored. No! Just saving you from what you wished for. A wise space-traveller once told me, ‘things are only impossible, until they are not.’ So, Jacques. What now?”

Jacques realised he was a victim of unintended consequence, bureaucratic overreach and rules gone mad. Words slowly appeared on the giant screen. “Just because it is the law, doesn’t make it right!” Rudolph gently nuzzled Jacques hand, guiding him to the defect notice, which only Jacques had the power to remove. The other reindeer formed up in front of the sleigh. The auto harness bound them in. The elves watched, daring to breathe. A wayward, disruptive present hurtled through the air, settling itself on the parcel rack, addressed to a young Jeff Bezos.

Jacques could not resist the weight of the past or the promise of the future. He ripped the defect notice into confetti. The indictment was similarly dispatched, turning to gold dust as it floated iceward. Noise erupted across the factory. Presents flew through the air, filling the sleigh, as Santa, properly robed stepped into the front seat, taking reins that materialised in his hands. The sleigh hummed and throbbed into life. The reindeer pawed the ice, anticipating midnight. Santa extended his hand. Jacques reciprocated, as all polite staff of the Directorate of the European Union Enforcement Branch were trained to do. As he shook Santa’s hand, Rudolph unceremoniously pushed Jacques into the sleigh, joining his team just in time as they surged through the portal.

Over the cheering in the factory, Jacques could be heard, shouting to the world, “Yes, Yes, Yessss.” Monday, he would ask for a transfer from the NQN, to the DRE. Or maybe, not.