tagLetters & TranscriptsWanted: Good Paying Job w/Benefits

Wanted: Good Paying Job w/Benefits


This is a Winter Contest story, please vote.

All characters portrayed are over the age of 18. There are no characters under the age of 18.


Offering Bob a job, Kris Kringle comes to the rescue to save the day by offering Bob a job.

Dear Santa,

I've been bad, very bad. I punched my boss in the nose at work and quit before he fired me. After allowing my frustrations and my emotions to get the better of me, now I don't have a job and I don't have any money. It was a just, part-time, minimum wage, shit job anyway, a job beneath me but in this still bad economy, that's the only jobs that there are now. Still an employers' job market, part-time and low paying jobs without benefits are the only jobs that employers are hiring workers to do. Still, even after they proclaim that the recession is over, there still are no jobs and most of us don't have any money.

Rather than to do the job that we elect our congress to do and to create jobs instead of sending all of our manufacturing jobs overseas, someone's lying to the American people about jobs, about the recession, and about the economy. The employment numbers and the unemployment numbers are all just a bunch of lies spun to make our congress and the President look good. Those of us looking for work know that the only companies hiring are hiring people for service jobs and not for manufacturing. Service jobs pay minimum wage without benefits and overtime. Manufacturing jobs pay a higher wage with overtime and benefits. Unless I work two part-time, minimum wage service jobs, I can barely afford my rent, food, and gas that all go up continually.

I was making good money not long ago Santa, while working in a factory on a production line. With lots of overtime for those who wanted it, I routinely worked a 50 hour week. Sometimes, when we needed more production, especially around the Christmas holidays, I worked as much as sixty hours a week. Depending on my production targets, I was even given an end of year bonus. The bonus wasn't huge like those Wall Street fat cats, but it came in handy at the end of the year. The overtime kept me solvent and allowed me to save up and eventually buy a house and a, used new car. Moreover, knowing that I was making a quality product, feeling good about myself, about my employer, and about the role that I played in a productive society, I enjoyed my work.

No doubt something that you can understand as a skilled craftsman yourself, I made toys. Our busiest season, of course, was Christmas with Halloween a close second. Alas the demise of the American worker started fifty years ago when my government lied to us by telling us that the advent of computers would make high paying jobs plentiful. Instead of computers making high paying jobs, they made for a smaller labor force when banks displaced tellers for ATM machines, gas stations had customers pump their own gas, and now supermarkets expect us to check out and bag our own food. Instead of computers making more jobs, they made less jobs and the jobs that they created were low paying jobs.

Then, ten years after that, the lies continued when my country signed that fair trade agreements with Mexico. Manufacturing, especially those companies in Texas, Arizona, and California, who were closer to the border, fled the United States to open factories in Mexico. The government's twisted reasoning this time was that America would be more competitive in a global marketplace. Only they lied to us when they told us there'd be more jobs. With the start of manufacturing jobs going to a foreign country, there were less jobs. I remember a time when everything I picked up had a sticker, Made in Mexico, at the bottom of it.

Not that what's happened has happened, reading between the lines, what they meant was, by breaking up the unions, our hourly wage would be more equal with third world countries, something that would make those in power more profitable in a global marketplace. Only, they didn't consider or even care that our standard of living in America is much higher than the standard of living in Mexico. What Americans need to raise a family and thrive is much more than the eight dollars a day that they paid the average Mexican worker back then.

What my elected congressmen, congresswomen, and big business did had little to do with the American worker but more with the fat cats and their bottom lines. How's that a fair trade agreement when we import more than we export? How's that fair trade agreement working when we lose more jobs than we grow more jobs? Ross Perot was right when he said we were giving away our eroding our manufacturing base by displacing our manufacturing jobs overseas for the sake of using cheap labor forces to make inferior products.

It all started with our politicians, those we voted in to represent us, our public servants, some public servants they are, when they passed laws in favor of big business with the excuse that the tax breaks will create jobs that never appear. It all continued when the toys that I helped to create and assemble were moved from my factory floor to factories in Japan. From Japan, production moved to Taiwan and then to India where the factory floors were filled with children happy to earn a dollar a day. Sneakers, clothes, appliances, TV's, stereos, computers, and electronics, everything was made in Japan, Taiwan, and Bangladesh back then. From Mexico, Japan, and Taiwan, they made the toys in countries that I never even heard of before, and now everything is made in China for a fraction of the cost.

With the quality suffering every time an American big company found a cheaper labor force and opened their factory doors in another third world country, Wal-Mart made a ton of money. I remember the time when Sam Walton, the founder of Wal-Mart, was proud to proclaim that all he sold was made in America, the good, old USA. Then, when he died and his children inherited the company everything changed. I blame Wal-Mart and the politicians, some public servants they are with their hands always out, for the state of the economic affairs in America. Whether they're Democrat or Republican, when they're more concerned with replenishing their campaign coffers, they don't care about the American worker.

No comparison to the toys that I made, my handcrafted and hand assembled toys were quality toys. The toys from China are cheap junk decorated with lead paint. I don't understand Santa. For the sake of a buck and at the expense of our children, please explain to me how does my country allow an importer to import something that's illegal here and that we cannot make here? Please explain to me why we allow Japan to come to my country and build factories, such as Honda and Toyota. Please explain to me why we allow China to build their biggest biotech company here and buy up our businesses with their profits when we're not allowed to do the same in their country. Please explain to me how most of our American brand of athletic footwear, Nike, Reebok, New Balance, and Adidas are made in China.

A domino effect, soon after I lost my job, I lost my house, my car, my wife, and my life as I knew it. Not necessarily in that order, my wife was the first to go emotionally and in spirit. She hung around long enough to watch my sinking ship sink below the surface and to kick me with her insults and punish me with her verbal abuse when I was down. Her already having a boyfriend on the side was just her adding more salt to my open wound. It's okay, glad to get rid of her, bankrupted financially and emotionally broke by the time she hired a lawyer and sued me for divorce, at least I had nothing for her to take in the divorce proceedings.

Too blind to see it, now that I look back, it was obvious that she never loved me anyway. It's the little things that she couldn't hide that confessed her real feelings or lack thereof for me. Never talking to me, never asking me a question, and not concerned enough about me to even ask me how was your day, she was a real selfish bitch.

Ignoring me as if I wasn't even there, her nose was always buried in a book, books that she read but never discussed with me about what she read. Now tell me this Santa, who reads a book and, as if her book was a secret book, doesn't discuss what they just read? When she looked at me, she looked through me or looked at me with disappointment or if she was angry with me for something that I did wrong. Hey, it wasn't my fault I was unemployed and collecting unemployment. Go write Congress. Go write the President. With more of the citizens of the country unemployed or underemployed than they statistically state in their monthly employment numbers, more lies, a lot of good that will do. When I told her that I loved her, she'd say, "Ditto."

"Ditto? Are you kidding me?"

It's funny that I'm telling you all this Santa but I have no one else to tell. When I lost my job, I lost all of my friends. Unable to afford to put out food and booze, they all stopped coming by my house. When I lost my job and when the money stopped flowing in for her to go endlessly shopping, we no longer had sex. Sex was no longer part of our marriage. Before we were divorced, we haven't have sex in such a long time that I can't correctly recall the last time we had sex.

Forgive me for asking but what about you Santa? Do you and Mrs. Claus still have sex? Sorry for the inappropriate question. Your sexual life is none of my business but after all the years you've been married, are you happy?

I don't really expect you to answer my too personal question, just hoping for a better sexual relationship with my next woman, I was just wondering what to expect when I'm your age. How the Hell old are you anyway? With you already being old when I was a kid, you must be getting up there in years.

Finally alone with my bad self, I'm sitting here in my rented room. It's not so bad. Truthfully, it's pretty awful. There's roaches and mice but the rent is cheap enough for me to afford. I only have one light hanging down from the middle of the ceiling over my bed. I do get a little light from the on and off, annoying, neon light next door that reads, Girls, Girls, Girls and that doesn't go off until 2am. I checked the mattress, not very supportive, but it's okay. At least it doesn't have bedbugs.

I'm not sure why I'm writing you Santa. I really don't know how you can help me but after polishing off most of a bottle of Jack, I figured it wouldn't hurt to write a Dear Santa letter. It figures it would take me to be drunk to write to anyone even Santa Claus. I dunno, maybe I figured that writing this letter would somehow make me feel better. Seriously, in the way that I don't believe in Superman, the Lone Ranger, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy, sorry, but I don't believe in Santa Claus either.

Thanks for reading my letter. Figuring my Dear Santa Claus letter will end up in the dead letter bin at the Post Office, I'm going to complete the cycle and actually mail this today. I'd would be curious if my letter evoked a response.



* * * * *

Dear Bob,

Times are tough all around. Whenever the economy goes south, my business, forgive the pun, goes north. Somehow people always have a few extra dollars to buy some toys for their kids.

"Ho! Ho! Ho!"

I'm running three shifts around the clock trying to keep up with not only the toy production that I need to give away at Christmas but also with the toys that I need to manufacture to sell for the rest of the year. I bet you didn't know that there really is a Santa Claus. Most people don't. I bet you didn't know that I run a successful toy business. I'm even listed on the New York Stock Exchange under KKTY.

My business name is Kris Kringle Toys. People, who don't know that I really manufacture toys, think that the name of my toy business, Kris Kringle Toys, is cute. If they only knew that Santa personally overseas the manufacture of all the toys made in my company, I bet my business would skyrocket but I'm happy just the way that I am without having all of that unnecessary fame and troubling fortune. I'm happy making just enough to support myself and Mrs. Claus so that we can pay our bills, keep a roof over our heads, and possibly buy another new, bright red Mercedes Benz to add to my garage and stable of luxury automobiles. Sorry, Bob, but being that I'm German, I've always preferred German engineering over American ingenuity and Japanese technology.

You know Bob, now that I'm thinking about it and now that I have your attention with this letter, so long as you don't mind the cold weather, actually the North Pole in closer proximity to the sun isn't nearly as cold as the South Pole. Most people don't know that either. Anyway, I'm always looking for help up here at the North Pole and I do have a job that I can offer you. With everyone looking for the easy way out and with everyone looking for an angle where they can work from home, good, skilled, and experienced labor is hard to find.

An honest day's pay for an honest day's work, I pay a good wage, double the wage of most other manufacturers and offer 100% company paid benefits, health, dental, and life insurance, profit sharing, and 401K. I offer a two week paid vacation, three weeks after five years, and four weeks after ten years. I don't offer any paid holidays but I do offer one day off for every week you work, that's 52 days that can be used as vacation time, sick time, personal time, and/or holiday pay. No questions asked, you use your days however you want.

Another benefit for living here at the North Pole, the real estate is free up here. Basically you live on an ice patch with an igloo on it. Some of the fellas built larger igloos with decks, a second story and, with the ice so thick, even a cellar. We don't have cars up her because the roads are too slick. Everyone travels by sleigh. I provide the sleigh and we have reindeers for sale that you can hook up to your sleigh. You are responsible for cleaning up reindeer poop. Such a mess, if we left that around, we'd have brown, smelly snow, instead of beautiful, white snow. Ho! Ho! Ho!

Let me know if you're interested in a job, Bob. I could use a good man who's familiar with the toy business and with the factory floor. Many of the help that I employ, mostly elves, have to climb stools and stepladders to reach any of the light and machine switches. It would be good to have someone bigger, taller, and stronger to help my elves with the things that they struggle with daily.

As an aside, in answer to your question, admittedly, albeit an inappropriate question, if I still have sex with Mrs. Claus, sadly I don't. Unable to get my pole to go north anymore, it's been hanging loose and low for a long time now. With me on high blood pressure medication and diagnosed with diabetes, I no longer have the sexual urge for sex. I've tried Andro-gel, a testosterone supplement, and Cialis, sadly, neither one works for me. Maybe I'm just too damn old for sex.

I'm a little embarrassed to admit but if you're working for me, you'd find out anyway but Mrs. Claus asked me if she could have sex with the elves, as they are always ready to party. Finally, I relented and every weekend, she goes off with a different elf and has a gangbang with all twelve elves once a month. So long as she gives me hot pillow talk while masturbating me and sucking me while telling me all that she did with the elves, I don't mind so much her having sex with the hired help.

Being that Mrs. Claus has turned into quite the slut, I wouldn't be surprised if she propositioned you too. Ho! Ho! Ho! Actually, taking the chore of having to sexually satisfy her, it takes all the time that I have to run the business and look over my team of reindeer without my having to worry about her sexual needs too.

Let me know if you're interested in working for me, Bob, and I'll arrange for your flight north.



* * * * *

Dear Santa,

Seriously? Are you kidding me? You're offering me a job at a good pay and 100% benefits to do something that I love to do, make toys. I can't believe it. Where do I sign? Finally to be fairly paid, fairly treated, and be given employee benefits is a dream job come true. Yes, of course, I'm interested in working for Kris Kringle Toys and for you Santa.

Now if only you can help me with another problem that I have, I'd be a happy man. Being that you really are Santa Claus, the maker of dreams come true, I need a woman to share my life. Enclosed, please find my picture. You see, ever since my wife left, I've so been lonely, if you know what I mean, horny actually. Other than Mrs. Claus and, admittedly, I'm horny enough to do her should she solicit me, if that's okay with you, but are there any other women up there at the North Pole?

Now, I don't know if there are women or not up at the North Pole and/or working for you, a real deal breaker if there isn't any available women, as I'd like to get married again. Believe it or not, even though I was married to a real bitch, I enjoyed being married. Truth be told, I don't see myself marrying an elf or a nymph, however a female elf is called, not that I'm prejudice against elves and/or nymphs, I'd just want someone who's taller and with bigger breasts, if you know what I mean Santa. My ideal woman is tall, blonde, busty, and beautiful with big, blue eyes. Even though I don't suppose there are any women living up there but for a few Eskimo women, but are there any women like that living way up there who look like my dream woman?



* * * * *

Hi Bob,

Thanks for the photo Bob. You are a very good looking man, much better looking than me. I'm sure Mrs. Claus would love to make your acquaintance, if you know what I mean. Ho! Ho! Ho! Has anyone told you that you look like a cross between Brad Pitt and George Clooney?

Actually, I'm pleased to report, as if so happens, my assistant fits your description of an ideal woman to a tee. She's tall, about 5'9", and she's busty, a 36D cup, as was whispered to me by one of my naughty elves who happened to see her changing into her uniform. Indeed with her long, blonde hair, beautiful face, and big, blue eyes, she's very pretty.

Never married, she loves children and would make a great mother and you a great wife. I have no idea why someone who looks like her hasn't been scooped up by a man long ago. I don't know why someone who looks like her isn't modeling and/or acting instead of helping me with my endless correspondence but she's a real stunner. Actually, she's sitting here across from me now blushing as I dictate this letter to her.

Being that there aren't very many available men of normal height up here, especially one who as good looking as you are from your enclosed photo, it wouldn't surprise me if you two became attracted to one another. Being that she's writing this letter for me, she already knows that you'll be arriving on the next sleigh. Her name is Susan, Susan Jill Parker.

"Ho! Ho! Ho!"




This is a Winter Contest story, please vote.

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