Dear Santa,
This is going to be my last letter that I’m going to write to you.
From 2003 until 2005 I have written SEVEN letters. And you have not
answered any of them. And I am sort of getting tired of this, Santa.
The last letter I even labeled FINAL and I went to the post office
and I registered it. I still even got the receipt. But you did not
answer me even then. So I’m sorry to have to use this public forum to
try and talk to you…
Any way, let me get to the point.
I didn’t get all the stuff like I asked you for. I asked three times
in three separate letters in 2005. I told you I do titanium work. You
know I got to weld things together and a Laser welder would really go
down. I told you titanium can’t be soldered with the OxyGas flame that
I got right now. You know all this stuff. I told you in my second
letter and I copied it into my 3rd letter---- So don’t kid me, you
know.
And Santa, it’s not as if I asked for the most expensive machine
either. I know, you only buy from the country you visiting, but the
model I told you about that’s made in China is all I want, okay?
I don’t want to harp on things Santa, but I been asking you for
things for a while now. Like, for a long time. And I’m getting tired
of waiting In my 7th letter I was honest with you. Really, honest.
When I let Mrs. Johnson’s chain fly on the polishing motor and it
broke into 15 pieces, there was no REAL harm done. She didn’t notice
all the solder joints and she was perfectly happy, not so? She didn’t
even mind that the chain was crinkled a bit.
And just because Mrs. Adams’ husband swopped her diamond for a cubic
Zirconia and I found out and told her, you Santa, in all your
wisdom, can not hold me responsible for the messy divorce. All I told
her was to go check his bank account and viola! — There the money
was! Not my fault Santa, he should never have put the money in his
personal account.
I know that you know that me and my workshop manager do some private
work on the side. He forces me to do his work. I have no choice. And
he only pays me 200 bucks for each job which is peanuts for him. Even
though he treats me like a slave. I know it’s wrong to do it Santa,
but let me explain. I need the ching, man-- - I got some serious
expenses. Really serious ones, Santa.
I got to replace the 7ct Emerald I broke when I was setting Mrs.
Smith’s ring, Santa. I know I was wrong by not telling the boss. And
I know I used the wrong glue to glue it back together. I got the
right stuff now. Her lawyer friend was very pissed-off with me and he
said she nearly drowned in her bath when the emerald came apart. And
the next morning she had to get the plumber to open the drain to get
all the pieces out and she was much traumatized. The lawyer said that
if I did not fix the problem he was going to tell my boss and make me
pay.
That would be very bad for me, Santa, because then I would have to
go to my bosses wife and tell her she’s got to tell my boss good
things about me. Otherwise I’ll tell my boss that she is having a
thing with the work shop manager. And Santa, I don’t mean a financial
thing but like a physical sort of thing, okay? And then the work shop
manager and me would get fired and the wife would get divorced and
the shop would close down and lots of people would be out of a job.
Then all the work would be outsourced and next thing, a Wal-Mart
will open and you of all people know how hard it is to compete against
Wal-Mart, not so Santa? I mean, what with Elves making wooden toys
and all that stuff.
So that’s why I need the equipment I asked you for, Santa.
And Santa, I got a very good business plan.
I’ve got ALL the addresses of my boss’s customers and I also got all
their BANKING DETAILS. Also, I got copies of all his MOULDS. I know
where the boss buys his stones and I even have spoken to one of the
gem dealer’s secretary once. So everything is set for go. I even
applied for a downstairs flat so it’s easier to move in the gas and
acid bottles and laser welders. Also, and listen Santa, this is the
good part; it’s got a VERY accessible fire place.
And! My best friend lives upstairs and he sends out millions of spam
e mails daily, so I don’t have to worry about advertising. So all I
need for you now is to fill my stocking.
Come on Santa, I need the stuff. I can’t take over the boss’
business with out it and I been good the whole year. I have not
cheated much on my wife, I haven’t nuked any ant nests and for the
whole year I have fed millions and millions of stray dogs.
So, Santa, I’m going to level with you now. I’m giving you the whole
of 2006 to come up with the goods. The whole year. Not everything in
December. The whole year. No more excuses like natural disasters and
the world economy. And I don’t give a damn that your runway in
Iceland was shortened by global warming. Fix it. You got one year
Santa, so make it work for you. Or you will be staring a class action
suite in the eyes, make no mistake. You choose.
Sincerely, your favourite jeweler, Hans