I am no Santa

Every time I see a buggy I begin to feel a stab of anxiety.

Today, I rush up to the counter as a pink Maclaren buggy approaches, ready to welcome its occupents to the grotto, but it glides right on past and I am shunned.

Of course the real reason I shot up out of my chair was to tidy the leaflets on the counter.

When the buggies finally do arrive I end up holding them and sometimes even balancing my foot on the seat so as to stop them falling over while the child has a tete-a-tete with Santa. I even mange to keep my leg on the buggy while taking their photo.

If that isn't multi-tasking I don't know what is.

Who makes these buggies and why to they have to topple over when there isn't enough weight in them?

Surely there is a better design than one that catapults shopping bags everywhere as soon as you let go of it.

I've also noticed that Santa is getting a lot more waves than I am and I feel a bit sad. Santa may just sit there barely moving, but he is Santa.

I can't compete.

As 'Santa’s helper,' I pack sacks, welcome people to the grotto, takes names and ages, explain where the entrance and exit is, (which seems to be hard for some people to follow), make photos, magnets, key rings, get kids to smile, take money, bookings, rubbish and abuse whilst holding buggies, rattles and lattés, but I am no Santa.

Without the beard I just can't compete.