Santa's toy shop is no different than any other big corporation. Politics, ethics, sexual harrassment, it all comes into play. No one is immune,
Dear Mr. Kringle,It pains me to write you this letter. I have faithfully served you for the past 400 years and have never in that time had a single complaint. And it makes my stomach curl to speak ill of another person. But I feel I can no longer keep this under my britches.
This situation I hesitate to speak of has caused my performance to suffer in the most grievous of ways. Maybe you recall back in the spring when I inadvertently sewed Raggedy Ann’s eye on where her ear should be? I still pay the price for that mistake. The constant ridicule from the other elves has made it difficult to concentrate on my responsibilities and now their looks are making it impossible.
I am sorry to report, sir, that I have been sexually harassed. It is still going on and I wish for it stop or I will have no other choice but to find work elsewhere.
It started as what seemed to be innocent fun. A group of us elves were hanging out at the Candy Shop when Mrs. Kringle approached and invited us all to a friendly game of Cricket. Now I am pretty good at Cricket. It runs in my veins. As you may recall my father was a Cricket Pro in his day and he taught me everything he knew. So of course, I was all for a friendly game. Everyone else declined, except for Claude.
So we said goodbye and followed the good lady to the Cricket field. I was winding up for my first shot when Mrs. Kringle said, “Let’s raise the stakes. I win, you two cook for me and Kris for a week. One of you win, I will be your faithful servant for one week.”
Claude and I quickly agreed you see, because we never had no lady ever offer to take care of us that way. Not since my good mother, God rest her soul. Thing is, I knew I could beat her. Kind of seemed unfair at the time, but it was it was.
So of course, I won.
Mrs. Kringle invited me to the house for a lovely dinner – you were out doing the yearly maintenance on the sleigh – and it all seemed good until later that evening she came to my room and insisted on giving me a sponge bath. She peeled off my tights and forced me to sit naked by the fireplace. I didn’t know what to do, she being your wife and all. She did give me a towel to cover my parts but once she had the bucket of suds and the sponge, it didn’t matter if I was covered. That sponge was put in places I didn’t even know I had.
Then she showed up the next morning to pick out my clothes for me, help brush my teeth, hair, back - then shuffled me off to the toyshop. She brought me lunch, ironed all my clothes, even my shoes, Mr. Kringle. Who does that?
The only saving grace was knowing it was only a week. I could make it. The other elves were curious about all the attention I was getting from the “boss's wife” but they paid it no mind when I explained I won a bet.
But the week came and went and it never stopped, sir. She followed me everywhere. Remember Rudolph’s swearing in ceremony? She was right by my side and kept touching my nether regions, oh so subtly. She brushed past me, making sure my nose was right between her breasts. She touches me, sir. And frankly I’m getting scared.
And now the other elves whisper.
I’ve asked Mrs. Kringle to stop. That her part of the deal is long since done. But she hasn’t. She winks at me and blows kisses when we pass in the hallway.
I hate to have to tell you this, as you have been such a wonderful employer. But last night was the final straw. She came to my room when I was sleeping. I woke and she was sitting there, cross-legged on the floor, watching me. Her breathing was rapid. I was afraid to look at her. But I did. And she was doing things to herself, sir. Things she should not be doing in front of me.
Please, Mr. Kringle, make it stop.
Otherwise, I will have no choice but to find other work. Don’t know where I would go. But I hear Utah is nice this time of year.
Lourds Elfkinhoff III