The Crisis

When you’re the boss sometimes you have to do more than just spread good cheer.

It was three days before Christmas when Santa Claus pushed open the doors to his workshop, ready to greet the elves with his usual booming cheer.

“Ho, ho, ho! How’s every—”

He stopped cold.

The workshop looked like a battlefield.

Half-finished toys littered the floor. Trains without wheels, dolls without heads, and teddy bears missing ears were piled everywhere. Elves shouted at one another across worktables. In the center of the room, the Automatic Toy Machine shook violently. Its gears screamed in protest as thick black smoke poured from its sides.

“Everybody stand back!” an elf yelled as a metal spring shot across the room.

The Head Elf, Olly, came sprinting toward Santa.

“Santa, we are in deep trouble!”

Santa raised an eyebrow. “What’s the problem?”

Olly pointed at the smoking machine.

“Remember last year when I told you we needed replacement parts for the Automatic Toy Machine?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you never ordered them. You just said, ‘Ho, ho, ho,’ and handed me a candy cane!”

Santa winced.

“And that’s not all,” Olly continued. “This year’s Nice List is twice as long as ever. You lowered the standards. Now we’re drowning in orders. At this rate, Christmas is doomed!”

For a moment, even Santa looked worried.

Then he rolled up his sleeves.

“Then it’s going to be a long night. You calm the elves. I’ll call for reinforcements. Don’t worry—Santa’s gotcha!”

An S.O.S. flew from the North Pole to every magical kingdom. Soon, fairies, dwarves, gnomes, dragons, and friendly giants arrived to help.

Day and night they worked.

By Christmas Eve, every toy was finished and every sleigh packed.

Christmas was saved.

Afterward, Santa restored the old Nice List standards and never ignored replacement parts again.

Some lessons, even Santa learns the hard way.