November/December 2004
Resignation Letter
Too much of a good thing can be a bad thing
by Joanna Enderlin
INTEROFFICE MEMO: PRIVATE
PRIORITY: HIGH
November 20, 2004
ΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚ
Dear Friends,
Please accept this letter as my formal resignation as CEO of Santa Claus Services. I will perform the duties for which I have committed for the 2004 season. My official retirement date will be December 26, 2004.
When SCS went public in 1954, each of you in the corporation was issued stock that has split every year since issued. If, as directed, you have been selling off your excess shares yearly and banking the residuals, this company closing should pose no personal financial hardship.
Against SEC rules, I will give those of you who did not take my advice 10 days to sell any remaining stock before I announce my retirement and the demise of SCS to press associations. I trust your discretion in this matter. I have no intention of spending my remaining years in a cell adjacent to Martha Stewart, whom we all know we haven’t visited in many years.
I have been struggling with this decision for over a decade. As the world’s population has increased, the sheer logistics of the task has become tedious, but we always pulled together as a team and got the job done.
It is not the physical challenges that have necessitated my departure from the field but the “burnout” one often feels when going through the motions of a job that has stopped being vital or even very fun.
At the risk of indulging in nostalgia, allow me to explain why I feel the world no longer requires our services.
I remember well when Christmas morning brought an incredulous smile from a tiny child who had never had a new toy with his name on it before. The child treasured the toy and, if his heart was in the right place, wrapped it up and passed it down to a little brother or sister the next year. I saw it time and again—a present I had brought the previous year wrapped in hand-painted paper tied with string to be shared and loved again. No matter how many times I witnessed this selfless act, it touched me deeply.
Children today, in all but a few of the homes in Western society, get whatever they want the minute they want it. Parents whip out the plastic and produce any toy before the child has had a chance to dream of the toy or long for the toy or earn the toy. What this means is that said toy has no real value now to said child—who kicks the toy under the bed within minutes to join the toys he wanted yesterday and the day before and the day before.
My humble contribution to the toy orgy that is now Christmas usually goes unnoticed. The simple doll or wooden train is pass next to an X-Box and motorized scooter and dozens of other ticklish and trendy articles inspired by the entertainment industry.
These are the issues with which I have increasingly struggled over the past few years. I do not blame the children. The parents spoil the children and then chide them for being spoiled. I would just as soon stay out of the middle of this.
There are other reasons it is time for me to close the door on our enterprise.
When we first started out some centuries ago, our job description was pretty simple. We kept a list, checked it twice, once mid-year, as you recall, and then again in late December. Names were sorted into the “naughty” or “nice” columns.
Naturally, nice children received a present. Children who had been naughty got a cold biscuit, a lump of coal or nothing at all, depending on jurisdiction.
In recent years, things have not been so easily defined. Since the introduction of Ritalin, I honestly can’t tell the naughty children from the nice and this saddens me to no end. Do you remember how some of these little guys and gals tried so hard to change their ways in time to swing the vote? Many succeeded and learned valuable lessons about self-control and compassion for others.
Those who did not succeed learned consequences. Nobody dreaded putting that lump of coal in a stocking more than I did, but some things are better learned early and learned well.
Then came the rash of lawsuits from the ACLU and the subsequent Supreme Court rulings (see ACLU v. SCS, 1986) prohibited us from discriminating altogether. The class action suit that followed on the grounds of “injuring self-esteem” nearly put us out of business.
We fought sexual discrimination suits next because of our practice of leaving dolls for girls and guns for boys. (Are there any of us remaining who still remember when guns were so rare a presence in daily life that they could be considered toys?)
We next found ourselves prohibited from distributing fruits and nuts. Border restrictions. Tax issues. Quarantines.
The unions also sued and we were declared a monopoly and ordered to stop delivering toys made in our shops. The toys we deliver now must be in the original (overseas) factory packaging and we can be held criminally liable if we deliver a “3+” toy to a smaller child and the child chokes.
We faced “slavery” charges (mostly in the press) for our workforce of elves. These charges were, thankfully, overthrown based on the Indigenous Peoples Workplace Act, passed in 1989.
I won’t even go into our OSHA nightmares.
Probably the saddest day was when SCS was ordered, based on a suit brought by PETA, to stop using reindeer to deliver the toys. We all know that Rudolph took his own life shortly thereafter.
All this litigation has taken its toll. Our defunct toy factories now house our legal department.
The FAA in 1991 suspended our license to fly for six months until we could reach international agreements with governments regarding air space. We cut it close that year.
We have since endured U.N. inspections of our facilities each year. We have faced charges of spying by the Chinese. We have been shot at by North Korea and are not allowed to fly at all over Baghdad or D.C.
Our once largest source of revenue, holiday music, is being pirated illegally from the Internet.
All told, our enterprise is collapsing under the weight of red tape and lawsuits and crass commercialism.
We are, Dear Friends, all but extinct.
I recently had a conference call with Jesus about what has happened to Christmas. He told me to “get over it already.”
So it seems that my decision to close the door on our operation has been made for me—actually long before I was willing to admit it.
As of 2004, Christmas as we know it, is over.
My image and likeness (as well as yours) will continue to be used to promote the holiday. Our attorneys tell me we have no copyright protection. Ho Ho Ho.
Any of you who find an honest need to continue to perform your former duties in your local community have my permission—and my blessings—to carry on in the original spirit ofΚ making just one day of the year a little brighter, one child at a time.
Remember, me and the Missus love you all very much. You will be missed.
Sincerely,
Santa Claus
