Mall Santa
Being a mall Santa is bizarre. My first experience occurred four years ago in Milton. Yes, Milton. I drove from Toronto to Milton TWENTY days straight. I was “Iron Man” Santa, setting some kind of endurance record, I’m sure. Thankfully, my employer provided me with a rental car, but sadly, one evening as I approached my car, I noticed a dent in the rear. A $500 dent when all was said and done, which I was not too happy about. I mean, who dings Santa’s ride and takes off? That’s a level of depravity too disturbing to even consider…
Well, the most terrifying moment of playing Santa was my first day on the job. I arrived early, got into costume and noticed that I was getting more and more anxious by the minute. Not to mention the fact that I felt like I’d just stepped into a sauna, fully clothed. The combination of wig, beard and hat had my glasses fogging up. I stared at the clock with dread.
Now, all actors get nervous before a performance and most of us are afraid that we’re frauds, even though we know we’re adept at our craft. Well, as the moment approached, I couldn’t stop thinking that no one was going to buy me as Santa. The kids, their parents, everyone was going to look at me as a sad excuse for jolly St. Nick. I was a 37 year old actor with long hair and a goatee, and even though I knew I was overweight, I felt like the Kate Moss of Santas regardless.
Before
After
Well, the clock struck four and I stepped out into the mall. My costume was impeccable; great quality from head to toe. But I felt like it was transparent, like everyone could see through it to the actor within, sweating bullets and panicking.
As soon as I came into view of the teeming crowd of kids and parents, the kids went wild. “Santa!!! Look, mommy, it’s Santa!!!” Okay, they’re buying it. I gotta pull this off. What am I going to sound like? I’ve gotta do a “Ho, ho, ho!!” and quick. Here goes nothing. I sounded great. All those years of watching “Rudolph” paid off. Feeling more and more comfortable, I let out a few more “Ho, ho, ho’s” and some jolly chuckles. The kids were beaming and I was saying hi to individual kids as I headed to my spot. The parents seemed to be buying my performance as well.
Now, any confidence I had gained shattered when the guy hosting my arrival suddenly proclaims into his microphone, “ Hey kids, do you know the song ‘Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer?” and they all scream yes!!!! He turns to me and says,” Santa, why don’t you sing it for everyone?!” I wanted to take this guy and wring his neck. Thanks pal! No warning and here’s the mic. I looked out over the sea of smiling faces and went for it.
The song was a success and my run as Santa was a good one. The kids were adorable and at times hilarious. Their belief in me as the real Santa was touching and their eyes would light up when I’d wave to them across the mall. Not one kid peed on me, which I take as a miracle, and only a couple of terrified tots kicked me in the groin. For the most part, the kids were sweet and everything went smoothly.
Of course, I had my requisite group of 14 year old girls crowding on my lap and asking for ponies, which left me feeling like “Polanski Santa” and occasionally adults would sit on my lap for a laugh and a photo.
The most memorable moment was on my last day, an hour from closing time. The last line-up of kids had come and gone and a 10 year old boy with cerebral palsy approached me. He limped up to my chair and sat on my knee. I asked him what he wanted for Christmas; the standard question. He proceeded to tell me all about how things were going with him, from school to his friends to hobbies to his family. We talked for 45 minutes and then he got up to leave. As he hobbled away, he turned to me and said, over his shoulder, “ Ho, ho, ho!” It was all I could do to hold it together. It put a lot into perspective for me. And it made all the sweating and panicking, the occasional boredom and fatigue, and even the $500 ding in my rental car, well worth it.
It felt like a gift.
Mike Lummis is a Toronto-based actor and one heck of a Santa.