Let’s face it. The Pilgrims get short shrift. No sooner do we finish carving the turkey than we’re all thrust into the frenzy of Christmas. We haven’t even resolved the light meat-dark meat dilemma or any of the family quarrels before we’re off, dashing through the snow, towards the Really Big Event, Christmas.
Or at least that’s how it felt a few days ago. Prancing up and down the aisles of our Natick store the day after Thanksgiving, our store elves draped garland and ribbon until the place was transformed into a glittering wonderland. Gingerbread houses dotted the mantles. Wreaths hung off every door. Then they fired up the satellite radio. Soon, Christmas tunes were blasting through the showroom.
Within a couple of hours, I was burned out on chestnuts roasting on the open fire. No one seemed to be rockin’ around our Christmas tree. Voices singing, let’s be jolly? Ho, ho, no to that proposal. Baby, it’s cold outside? Frankly, I’d rather suffer the bitter winds of winter than listen to another round of Feliz Navidad.
How long would the torment last? I looked at the calendar. Thanksgiving arrived early this year which lengthens the holiday season to an unendurable five weeks. My inner Grinch suddenly rebelled. “I’ll be in jingle-bell hell if I have to listen to one more hour of carols,” I thought.
The big question, though, would be the elves’ reaction. I took a deep breath and summoned our staffers to an impromptu meeting. “Hey, team,” I said, “how about we kill the Christmas music for a few weeks? You guys good with that?”
Much to my surprise, my proposal had lords a-leaping and ladies dancing all over the showroom. Rob, one of our young staffers, immediately flipped the music back to Jimmy Buffet. Frosty, the Snowman, melted away in Margaritaville. Sure, we brought him to life and now he was just slushed ice. But he’ll be back again someday.
Just give us a few weeks, please!
