Last Letter to Santa

The door of the post office swung open. “Big news!” an eager little elf yelled.

Charlie, one of the most senior elves and the postmaster at the North Pole, popped his head out from the back room. “What?” he shouted back. 

“Santa. He's got exciting news. Come on. We are meeting at the wrapping factory for the announcement.”

“Yah, yah. I think I will skip it. I have work to do,” he said as he shooed him out, “The last big announcement was dairy-free milk would now be offered in the break room. Oh, and the one before that was –”

“It's mandatory,” the elf said with a wide smile.

Charlie's eyebrow raised. “Mandatory?”

“Yes,” the elf said as he bounced from foot to foot. “I have to go and let everyone else know.” He darted out the door and shouted, “Big news!”

Charlie rolled his eyes and finished sorting the mail. He slipped on his jacket and headed out to the required meeting. The usual hustling streets were empty, making his walk swift to the wrapping facility. He entered the massive building to a sea of murmuring elves.

“This is exciting.” 

“What is it?”

“I don't know, but it's big.”

“Oh boy, oh boy, I'm excited!”

Charlie shimmied through the crowd to get a better look and thought, Wow. I haven't seen such a turnout since Santa announced the expansion to all 195 countries. This must be big.

“There he is,” an elf screeched.

Santa walked out on the makeshift stage to the cheers of a rock star. He waved to the crowd and waited for them to calm down. “Hello elves. Today, I’m proud to announce something we should have done a long time ago.” He looked around the mass of elves and bellowed, "We are going green.”

An ocean of whispers waved through the elves until a single hand raised from the depths. “D-d-d-does this mean we are out of a job?" a wrapping elf asked.

“Ho Ho Ho,” Santa laughed. “Of course not. It's going to create jobs. Postings for these new positions are going up as we speak. We will need scavenger elves. They will reclaim used wrapping paper. And hundreds more to work in our new state-of-the-art recycling facility.”

Sporadic claps emerge from the factory floor. “This is big news!” one shouted. Another yelled, “I want to be a scavenger elf.”

Charlie began to nod and clap. This is great news. Good for Santa. Making the world a better place. He turned around to head back to the post office. Even though it was February, Santa received letters all year round. He weaved through the assembly, spitting out a barrage of “Excuse me. Sorry. Pardon me’s.”

“I have one more announcement,” Santa exclaimed from the stage.

Charlie smirked as he worked his way to the exit. Oh, here it is. Gluten-free cookies are now available in the break room.

“We are going green, which means we will no longer accept handwritten letters. On July first, the post office will be converted into a storage room, and we will build a state-of-the-art computer center.”

Charlie stopped like he hit a brick wall. Blood flushed from his face and funneled to his pointy ears. No letters? Letters to Santa IS SANTA. 

“This will create even more jobs,” Santa said. “The posting is in the back. We are hiring now for text, email, and phone call operators. “Ho-ho-ho, we are go-go-going green. Now, let's get to work.”

This can't be real. This is all I know, Charlie thought as he strolled back to the post office. The number of letters had shrunk year after year, but to stop accepting them? It seemed like a bad idea.

He arrived at the post office, and several construction elves had a tape measure along the outside wall. “What are you doing?” he growled.

“Weren’t you at the meeting? a hard-hat elf said with a candy cigarette hanging off his lip. “This building is going to be converted to a storage unit. It's a fire and safety hazard.” He took a bite of the sugarette, “We are recommending it be torn down.”

“Torn down!” his nostrils flared, “I have until July. Weren't YOU at the meeting?” He 

stomped past the orange-vested elves, swung open the door, and stepped inside. He spun around and threw his fist in the air. “I'm going to save this place,” he barked and slammed the door. 

“What Santa wants, Santa gets,” a voice from the outside shouted. 

He paced around the mailroom, and a letter fluttered down the chute. He walked over and grabbed it. Twelve envelopes sat in a pile. He gathered them up, and his head dropped. He remembered a time, even in February, when thousands of letters would pile up daily. “Maybe Santa is right,” he mumbled to himself. He sorted the letters and closed early.

The following day, he strolled to the office and passed avocado-colored banners plastered everywhere. They read, It's time for change. Going Green! He gave himself a migraine shaking his head at every one of them. He entered the office, shuffled to his desk to grab aspirin, and kicked a stray letter. How did that get here? He glanced at the mail chute, and his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. A mountain of letters had fallen out of the chute. He rushed over and opened one. 

Dear Santa,

On the news last night, they reported that you will no longer accept letters. You're going green. I do not have the internet, and my stepdad won't let me have a phone. I have no other way to communicate with you. What am I supposed to do? 

Timmy, age 7

He opened another and another. They all had the same concerns. 

Charlie scooped a pile of letters into a box, sprinted out the door, and down Candy Cane Lane. He turned onto Butter Cookie Drive and headed straight for Santa Claus Headquarters. He shot through the revolving doors and past the lobby desk, only to be stopped by a security elf dressed in a black suit.

“Woah, little guy. Where do you think you're going? 

“I need to see Santa.”

“Well, don't we all,” he said as two more suits lined up behind him.

“I must see him. I'm Charlie, and I run the post office.”

“Oh, the place they're going to shut down,” one of the elves in black said. “You need an appointment to see him. He's very busy.”

“I have crucial information that he must hear.”

One of the elves began to talk into his sleeve, and the other two pressed their fingers to their ears. In unison, the three said, “He will see you.” They walked him to the elevator and, when it opened, directed him inside. The doors closed, and he was on his way to the big guy. He clutched the full box and took a deep breath. 

The doors opened, and he stepped out. Santa lifted his head from the work on his desk. “Charlie, the postmaster Ho Ho Ho. What can I do for you?”

“Well, sir–”

“Is this about your job? Don't worry. I will put you in charge of the email department. It can't be that different from what you do now.”

“I don't even have email myself, sir.”

“I’m sure you will pick it up just fine. Are we good? I have another meeting to get to.”

“Sir, no, sir.” He placed the box on the desk. “Look at the mail coming in.” He opened one and handed it to him.

“Charlie, I don't have time for this,” he said as he looked at his watch.

“I received thousands of letters last night, just like the one in your hand.” Charlie

 tipped over the box, and the letters spilled like a waterfall onto his desk. “The children are sad. They don't know how to send their wish list to you.”

Santa leaned over and pressed the intercom button on his desk. A crackly voice vibrated from the plastic speaker. “Yes, sir.”   

“Miss Frost, will you send in the Statistics Team.”

“Right away, sir.”

He leaned back in his chair as 12 elves entered the room. They all had glasses and button-up shirts with pocket protectors. “Gentlemen, I have been informed there will be children who can't get ahold of me if we go all green. Is this true?”

“No, sir,” the team lead said. We have done the math, and it's statistically impossible.”

“But, sir,” Charlie cried out.

“I’ve had this team since the beginning of my career. They streamlined the Naughty and Nice List. They mapped out the fastest route between each house, making it possible to expand worldwide. If it weren't for them and their math prowess—” he knocked on his desk and grunted, “they have never been wrong. Never.”

“You can knock on wood as much as you want, but they are wrong this time.”  

Santa rubbed his chin, “Sorry, Charlie. I know change is hard, but we're going green.”

Charlie ripped open another letter and handed it to Santa. “You're making a big mistake.”

“Escort him out.” He pointed to the elevator door and sighed. “It's time you get an email account and grow with the world, Charlie.” 

The security elves guided him into the elevator and pressed the lobby button. The doors began to close. The lead security elf touched his ear and said, “Mmm hhhmmm, yes, sir.” He looked at Charlie. “You're a good elf. He just doesn't have time for this nonsense.” The doors clapped shut. 

The months flew by. It's now June 30th. Only a few minutes before the mail chute would be turned off forever. The moving elves began to haul out the letter-filled boxes as he watched the last couple of letters fall out of the chute. The clock struck twelve, and one of the moving elves blurted, “That's all she wrote,” he nudged Charlie with his elbow. “Get it?”

“Yes,” he said as he gazed at the lifeless chute. “I get it.”

“We’re all done here,” the moving elf said. He put his foot on the dolly and leaned back. “Charlie, can you lock up?” he asked as he rolled the last boxes out the door.

“Sure,” Charlie said as he stood in the once bustling mail room. He closed his eyes and tried to remember what it sounded like in the heyday. His ears perked as a noise came out of the idled chute. He sprinted over and looked up into the black hole. A letter swayed back and forth. It must be stuck in an up-current. He reached up and grabbed it. “The last letter to Santa,” he said with a soft voice and opened it. 

Dear Santa,

I hope this gets to you before the letter cut-off date. My brother has been crying every night because he thinks you will skip us if we don't have a smartphone or computer. I tell him you won't pass us by; it is just nasty rumors. I promised him I would get his wish list to you. The only problem is he still needs to make it, so I couldnt attach it to this letter. So I’m asking for my Christmas wish early. Santa, please don't stop accepting mail. I don't want my brother to be upset. Or any other kid who can't reach you through technology.

Thank you, and I’m hoping for a Christmas miracle,

Stacy McChelbee 

 Charlie's chin dropped. “Sorry, Stacy. There’s nothing I can do.” He walked over to the exit and gave the old place one more look around. He opened the door, turned off the lights, and mumbled, “Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail shall keep the postmen from their appointed rounds. Except going green.” 

The months counted down. It's now December 24th, and Santa's crew is preparing the sleigh for delivery.  

T-minus 12 minutes till launch, a booming voice said over the loudspeakers. 

Santa stood before the eight reindeer and gave them a pep talk as a cargo elf clamped down the last strap on the sleigh and yelled, “All ready for delivery!” 

Santa looked up at the cargo sack. “It looks light.”

“It is,” the elf said. “About 20% lighter than last year.”

“How is this possible? Our number goes up every year, not down.”

The elf rubbed the back of his neck and, without eye contact, said, “I guess there's always a first.” 

T-minus 10 minutes till launch.

“Not for this. Where is my statistics team!” Santa exclaimed.

Twelve elves sprinted onto the launch pad. “You called for us, sir?” the lead elf asked. 

He pointed at the cargo and said, “Why is my toy bag so small this year?”

Eleven elves stepped back as the lead elf sputtered, “Um- well- we were wrong about going all green right away and not easing into it.”

“What? Why did you not tell me this until now!” Santa huffed. “Charlie was right? Where is Charlie? Can he fix this awful mess?”

“Santa, Charlie can't fix this.”

“Why?”

“Because there is no Charlie. He disappeared the day after the post office closed.”

“I don't care. Go find him!”

The elves stood silent as the loudspeaker roared T minus 8 minutes till launch.

“All these kids will have nothing under the Christmas tree–”

“Santa!” a voice yelled out from down the launch pad. “Santa!”

“Is that—”

“It's me, Charlie,” he said as he ran. 

“Well, I'll be—the postmaster.” 

Exhausted, Charlie collapsed in front of Santa and his sleigh “San- Sant-.”

“It's ok. Catch your breath.”

T-minus 6 minutes till launch.

“Santa, I got them. I got them all.”

“The letters? How? Where are they?”

Charlie pulled out a laptop. “I put them all in an email and sent it to the toy department. I went to each child I knew was struggling and typed their list for them.”

“The toy department just confirmed they got the email,” a cargo elf said. “All they need is your okay, sir, to pick and pack the toys.”

T-minus 4 minutes.

“Give them the okay and let the wrapping plant know they have a heavy order coming. Charlie, let's step over here and get out of the tornado that's about to happen.”

“They can do it in 4 minutes?”

“Ho ho ho. They sure can.” Santa put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder and said, “I'm proud of you. Not only did you embrace technology to get the job done, but you went above and beyond your title. I will reopen the post office and put you back in charge.”

Thanks, sir, but I think I'd rather head a new department to help the transition from old to new.”

“You got it, Charlie.”

T-minus 1 minute till launch.

A cargo elf ran up and said, “All packed and ready to go, sir.”

 “It's going to be a good night, thanks to you. Ho Ho Ho!”