A Little White Lie Christmas

A True Christmas Story

Time was running out on yet another Christmas shopping season, and as always, chaos was reigning across the land of the free. From Thanksgiving until December 25^th our nations’ streets and stores played host to another episode of Holiday Shoppers Gone Wild. Experts are unable to explain why otherwise normal people are overcome by primitive and primal urges at this time of year. Theologians blame it on evil spirits; perhaps the ghost of Christmas presents? Others ascribe it to global warming, or mad cow disease. Whatever the cause, this years’ shopping madness exploded to even higher levels of weirdness.

The crazies had been out in force ever since ‘Black Friday,’ the day after Thanksgiving and the traditional start of the gift buying season. A word of caution; if you’re foolish enough to go shopping on Black Friday, then you’re liable to experience a Black and Blue Saturday.

Wives are never more appreciated than during the Holiday season, especially where gift shopping is concerned. My wife and I had a pretty good system worked out regarding the division of labor; I would take care of the “Dad” stuff, and she would take care of the “mommy” stuff- the mommy stuff being anything that ‘the dad’ hates to do! For instance, at the Christmas season my wife would handle all the gift shopping, but I would have to fill out all those stupid gift labels--unequal burdens and hardly fair, some would say, and I agree- but I don't mind doing a little extra-after all, it is the season for sacrifice. However, everything changed one fateful Saturday morning and this is how it all began.

Watching Saturday Morning TV with the Kids

I like to begin my day with inspirational TV, and that morning I was enjoying an episode of “Sponge Bob Square Pants,” and while soaking up Sponge Bobs' wisdom there came a commercial for a toy which totally arrested the attention of my young daughter, Melodie Anne, and seeing the way her eyes lit up, I made up my mind to get one of these for her.

That year the toy industry’s spotlight was shining on a clever new computerized talking toy; very cute, very cuddly, and very cleverly marketed. The media constantly proclaimed the good news of this glorious new toy, and all the good little boys and girls were the happy victims of this Holiday propaganda. Unfortunately, supplies were limited, and this clever little toy was dangerously close to extinction, but still the hunt was on. Platoons’ of brave parents were scouring the land in a desperate search, and in the background one could almost hear that old familiar hymn;

“Onward Christmas shoppers,

Marching as to war,

All because of Visa,

Now we can afford,

Lots of worthless presents,

They don’t really need,

It’s a Christmas MONSTER

That we always have to feed.”

Overwhelming the malls and discount stores, these battle-hardened veterans were prepared to go to war over the rapidly disappearing toy stocks. Just as multiple sharks will fight over the same prey, there was a retail feeding frenzy, and in the aftermath every single store was completely sold out!

Of course, being a full-fledged procrastinator I had not even begun my search for Melodies' present, yet, as an experienced dawdler I wasn't worried. I was confident in my ability to “sniff things out,' and if there was even one of these toys within 100 miles, I would find it. This was a battle I was determined to win, and to accomplish this mission, my initial weapon of choice was the telephone, and so I began to engage in what is commonly referred to as 'telephone warfare', and take it from me, war is hell.

I called every store within a 70 mile radius, and every bored sales associate I spoke with must have received identical instructions from management that morning on how to deal with all inquiries for this special toy; "Just Say No!" Every response was the same. There were no toys left, no more were expected, no returns had arrived, and they had no idea when more would arrive, no-no-NO! It sounded like they were correcting a dog…no... NO, remarkaBlogs, NO more toys!... Now go lay down!

I didn't want to go lay down like some defeated canine, chewing on a dog biscuit or licking my privates. Yet I did growl out loud, certain that there must be at least one of these wretched items stuck on some back shelf somewhere on planet earth, but after hours of my pestering phone calls, it was evident I was losing this battle. Not only that, but I felt like I was losing my mind, going insane like a typical holiday shopper. Yet I continued to dial away, zombie-like, for hours.

Suddenly, stirred by a manic-impulse, I quickly re-dialed the store I had just called five minutes earlier, because I realized that the rude old sourpuss who hung up on me sounded just like mean old Aunt Louise. Perhaps this was a sign from above. I knew It was a crazy idea, but now I know that God loves a lunatic, because with that phone call I finally struck gold!

The phone was answered by a bored sounding young man named Benny, and as I began to describe the toy I needed, he cut me off; “I know what you’re looking for, I might’ve seen one out back a couple days ago, but I ain’t got time to look. If you come to the store maybe someone will take a look for you.” How could he be so casual and blasé about it? My heart was racing like a reindeer forced to pull a fat guy's sled around all night. This was the first ray of hope I’d had all day and I wasn’t going to be put off that easily.

Sensing that my prey was near, I tried slovenly begging, a technique I picked up while listening to my friend Pete begging Fuzzy Frances for a date (Pete’s a good guy, he's just minus a few teeth and when he laughs [which is constantly] his connecting eyebrow wriggles like a caterpillar in heat). I was at my fawning best, softly twisting Bennys’ arm, begging and pleading until he finally agreed to go take a look for me (probably just to escape the noise of my voice). After the longest wait Benny finally picked up the phone, almost sounding like he forgot about me, but then my mouth dropped open when my man Benny said the words that I was longing to hear. "Yeah, I found it." It was just where he thought it was, stuck out back where nobody else even thought about looking. Praising him for his cunning, I was almost slobbering in my excitement, but then in mid-drool he just shut me down. “I can’t save it for you,” he said, explaining that he couldn’t possibly hold it for anybody over the telephone. That was against store policy, and my suddenly law-abiding ex-friend Benny refused to be budged from that position.

Now, what was I going to do? What would you do? What could anybody do?

I was stuck between a rock and a hard place, Bennys’ bone-headed concern for the rules. Who cares about the rules at a time like this? Dang it, it’s Christmas! There’s a moratorium on rules.That’s why we bought a present for my gossipy Aunt Louise, even though she hates every last one of us. Besides that, she puts a damper on the Holiday cheer because she has an odd smell (even our dog refuses to sniff Aunt Louise's crotch, and that’s a first). All over America the normal rules of engagement are suspended. Families everywhere declare a cease-fire and gather around the table sharing Holiday meals with their overbearing relatives with whom they normally bicker year 'round. Rules, shmools!

Besides, what about my little girl? I pictured Melodies’ cute little face that morning. I had noticed that in addition to her normal expression of child-like innocence there was also an odd glint in her eyes of mischievous triumph. I got the impression that in some way she had made some kind of deal with Jesus, because she was convinced that God was going to come through for her on this toy request (even at the age of seven she showed signs of the gifted persuader she would become). Now, if she had brokered some kind of deal with the Divine then I figured it was time for me to bow my head and...prey; on Bennys’ mind, that is. I needed to close the little rat, and quick, before somebody else snatched up that darn toy. So that’s when I decided to help things along by stretching the truth a little.

Speaking in my most persuasive tones, I brought Benny into my confidence, sharing the sad story with him. The truth was, that toy was not for me-it was actually for a little girl I knew, and I couldn’t go into much detail, but she was a very sick little girl. As a matter of fact, her condition was so critical that it was entirely possible that this might be her very last Christmas. I think I even managed to put a little sob into my voice, a very convincing performance I must say. After a respectful pause, Benny finally agreed to save this last toy for me; but only for the little girls’ sake, since she was so sick, and after all, it was Christmas.

Magnanimously Benny explained that I could pick it up at the customer service desk and he would write my name on it. Thanking and blessing my new best friend for his kindness, there were genuine tears in my eyes; I was getting carried away in my own drama.

Now that I had accomplished my mission I could finally rejoice! Granted, there was a slight damper on my emotions because of how I had distorted the facts, but I rationalized it by reminding myself that my daughter DID have a slight cold (hadn’t I heard her cough that very morning?), and anyway, what if a massive meteor collided with our planet next month? Then this would be the very last Christmas for everybody, right? So, what I said to Benny wasn’t a complete lie, was it? At any rate, a wise man once said that “a clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory,” and taking his advice I tried to forget these qualms of conscience as I quickly headed downtown to pick up my spoils.

I fairly danced my way into the store that day as I headed for customer service, happily requesting my precious toy. After checking the shelves, the puzzled-looking clerk said, ‘I’m sorry, but there's nothing here under your name.” I asked him to please take another look, because I knew it had to be there, perhaps still in back? After several minutes he returned, saying that he had looked in every possible place, but unfortunately, there was nothing there.

Now I was beginning to get upset; demanding to speak to a manager, and when she arrived I complained about this completely unacceptable situation- why, it was just an hour ago that I had spoken to one of her sales clerks, and because it was an urgent situation he had been nice enough to put it aside for me while I was on the phone with him!

That’s when the manager asked me for this clerks’ name, and when I told her that his name was Benny, I noticed the other clerk trying to hide a smile, and the manager just shook her head, saying, “Benny? You talked to Benny, and he said he would save something for you? I’m sorry, sir, but that explains it. I hate to have to tell you this, but you cannot believe a word that Benny says, because Benny always lies.” With my eyeballs slightly bugging out, I just stared at her, frog-like, my tongue working nervously. “I don’t understand," I finally managed to croak. “You mean he made up this whole story?” With pity in her eyes she said, “I really apologize, sir, but he does things like this. Benny lies, all the time, and we don’t let him deal with the customers any longer; today he just happened to be filling in for someone who went home sick.”

Well, that clerk wasn’t the only one who went home sick that day; perspiring heavily and ill at ease, I quietly made my way out. Talk about a reversal of fortune; just minutes earlier I had entered this place like the 'golden boy ready to dance,' and now I was the wallflower slinking away with the same dejected look I had the timeToothy Nellie Brownbottom laughed in my face when I asked her to dance (re-living a painful high school memory). I felt like a fool; this just couldn't be happening to me, no way!

While driving home I puzzled over this unbelievable experience, and the more I thought about it the angrier I became. The nerve of this Benny guy! Jerk! And he was so convincing when he said he found that last toy. Liar! What a farce! Why would any normal person make up a story like that? Idiot! God, I hate liars! I could feel the self-righteous resentment boiling away inside me until the words just burst forth from my mouth, "THAT GUY IS NOTHING BUT A LYING, STINKING, PIECE OF CRAP!"

And that’s when it hit me—in mid epithet­­--like a slap in the face. I was boiling mad at this guy, a total stranger, because he just flat-out lied to me. He made it all up! This arch-deceiver pretended a concern for the poor little sick girl—wait—what poor little sick girl? Oh yeah, the poor little sick girl that I lied about! I lied about this being her last Christmas. I lied about her illness. I lied about everything, but he didn't know that. So I was furious with Benny for his dishonest response to my dishonesty. I couldn’t believe it. I was sincere when I was lying to him, and what do I get? A pack of lies. What was this world coming to, when you can’t even count on people to be truthful when you lie to them? That’s just not right, and it’s so un- American!

Now, what’s wrong with this picture? I was wrong. Sure, Benny was a liar, and a con artist, pure and simple. But... I was no better than he. I was so angry at Benny for lying to me, but he wouldn’t have lied to me if I hadn’t first lied to him. Yet here I was howling like a moon-struck dog, in righteous indignation; as if I was an innocent victim of circumstances. In truth, I was only the victim of the Reverse Golden Rule:

     "Another hath done unto me what I had first done unto another"

Hell hath no fury like someone on the receiving end of the Reverse Golden Rule. It doesn’t make any sense; it’s an illogical response when you are guilty of the same thing, but somehow it's the inevitable response if you are a human being walking about in a container of skin.

Even though I hated it at the time, and for days afterwards had recurring fantasies of joyfully snapping Bennys’ scrawny neck, yet this was a very good experience for me. Since then I’ve had those moments of extreme anger and I’ll be reading somebody the Riot Act over some offense, when suddenly I am reminded of this ‘Benny Episode’ which in turn reminds me of the numerous times I have transgressed in the same way as this person I’m lambasting, and believe me, it sort of takes the wind out of your sails, and produces a great calming effect.

Actually, this entire episode made absolute and perfect sense in a weird and foolish- wisdom kind of way. I got Benny on the phone, because I deserved to get Benny on the phone. It was the Law of Attraction in action. Like attracts like. I was a li-ar who needed to connect with a lie-ee, and somehow it was all very neatly arranged. This was weird-it felt like a setup, if you know what I mean. You reap what you sow, they say, and since I was sowing ridiculous falsehoods that day, then, like a magnet, I attracted the same thing to myself, only repackaged Benny style. I got what I deserved, and I got it in a way that I will never forget.

Since that day I have often thought about this incident, I’ve shared this story with others and laughed about it with my friends. If I ever happen to run into Benny one day, I will probably thank him and break his hand-oops, I mean, shake his hand. He probably has no idea how famous he is. I hope he is able to access Hubpages in whatever facility he's in.

And me? I can truthfully say that I thank God for everything that happened to me that day. I've got a hunch that His hand was working behind the scenes, somehow. That's my take on it. If your name is Earl, then you would call it 'Karma'. Or the Laws of Reciprocity. You may call it what you will, but I'm just glad when it happens to me.

And my daughter? Well, poor little Melodie didn’t get that particular toy that year, but she received something even better; a front row seat to the “daddy show” and I think she learned from the events that day that honesty is the best policy, and seeing her imperfect dad learning his lesson is a precious gift in itself.

Hey! Wait just a minute here…was this the deal she had worked out with Jesus that morning?

“Dear God, my daddy’s in there telling lies on the phone. Get him, God…and get him good.”

Amen, Melodie.