The annual Christmas blog from Nigel Wallis, consultant at Legal Futures Associate O’Connors Legal Services
Nigel Wallis
“I think you mean coronal mass ejection, my darling,” corrected Mrs Claus, placing a hand on her husband’s arm and smiling apologetically at Dim Whittington seated beside her at the boardroom table.
The elves tittered as they jostled for toadstools ready for the December board meeting.
Though Dim Whittington was not the sharpest pine needle in the forest, he had managed to secure a place on the board of North Pole Logistics due to his distinguished career at Rentokil.
“You see Dim…if I may call you Dim,” said Mrs Claus, “my husband is obsessed with the Aurora Borealis. If he’s not snoring in front of some dreadful Netflix Scandi noir, he’s in his pyjamas on the veranda, fiddling with his Box Brownie.”
Dim Whittington nodded diplomatically, but was beginning to wonder how this iconic business had survived so long with such an old duffer in charge.
“Did you know, there are more reindeer alive today than have ever died?” said Santa, trying to reassert his authority with a humdinger statistic he’d picked up on Insta.
Before he could elaborate, North Pole’s HR director, Henrietta Sprout, burst into the boardroom in a flurry of snowflakes. “So sorry I’m late everyone. Who’d have thought B Corp status would mean going paperless in the ladies’ loos? Lucky I had the board agenda with me. Anyway, don’t let me interrupt.”
Mrs Claus saw Santa inhale to speak and promptly stood up, halting him in his tracks.
“Before we address today’s agenda, my husband and I would like to make an important announcement.”
The room fell so silent you could’ve heard an icicle drip.
“As many of you will know, my dear husband Santa will be celebrating a big birthday this month,” she said, catching the eye of each elf like a seasoned TED presenter.
“And the truth is, he’s been finding things rather challenging of late. He knows things need to change but he’s been having sleepless nights over the board’s recent decision to use CoPilot to answer the children’s ‘Letters to Santa’ and drones to deliver their presents. As he said to me over breakfast this morning, he can’t help feeling it might ’steal a bit of the magic’.
“Don’t misunderstand, Santa is no Luddite. For example, he’s promised to give me a Ninja Deluxe Dual Zone Air Fryer for Christmas, and I know this to be true because I used my Argos vouchers to buy it and wrapped it myself. We’re a team, you see.
“We all know things can’t stand still and so Santa and I have decided to transfer our shares in North Pole Logistics to an employee ownership trust. We’ve thought about it long and hard, and we feel it’s the best way to protect the future of the business and help us attract and retain the elves we need.”
Mrs Claus paused to gauge the temperature of the room (Arctic as usual) and Ivor Goodpitch, North Pole’s marketing director, took the opportunity to jump in.
“On behalf of everyone at North Pole Logistics, mam, may I offer you both hearty congratulations,” he said, with the practised air of a lounge-lizard. “Eat your heart out John Lewis. The socials will go ape for it, I’m sure.”
“Thank you, Ivor,” said Mrs Claus.
“Just a thought,” added Ivor. “Might I humbly offer my services as a trustee?”
At the mention of the word ‘trustee’, Santa’s nose twitched. Dim Whittington’s cat was not the only one able to smell a rat.
“That’s very thoughtful, Ivor,” said Santa, “but Lappish Law permits my wife and I to be the trustees of the trust and to decide how it votes and distributes funds. If you can just concentrate on generating sales, it should be happy days for everyone.”
Mrs Claus was not the only one surprised by this lucid intervention. Santa must have been paying attention to the lawyers and accountants after all.
“Well,” she said, “that’s settled then. I suggest we take a short comfort-break while I fetch some sherry and warm mince pies. This calls for a celebration.”
Outside in the cold, Prancer and Blitzen had been listening through a broken windowpane.
“Sounds like common sense to me,” said Prancer.
“Indeed,” said Blitzen. “And you know what the playwright George Seaton said about common sense. Faith is believing in things when common sense tells you not to.”
Prancer nearly choked on a clump of moss. “Good job for Santa that common sense is not all that common then.”
The loyal servants’ laughter filled the air as they lifted their heads to marvel at the Northern Lights, safe in the knowledge their futures were secure.
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