A somewhat different business Christmas story

The old man stands by the blazing fire and stirs the fragrant red punch in the huge kettle. He sings his favorite poem: "The night is blue. The stars are twinkling. Little snowflakes sink softly down. On Edeltännlein's green top a little white tip piles up..." He is interrupted by an unexpected, splashing bubble from the trough, forcing him to react quickly. In an unusual move, he is now completely "the man himself", takes the kettle off the fire and fills his drinking tub to the brim. It comes as it must: As he walks unsteadily to his cozy armchair, his drink loses volume and spills all over the floor. Frowning, he growls into his white beard "this too" when so many elves have already quit. Of course, he doesn't work a four-day week or from home. The temptations of the social hammock have also played their part. No, his industry can't keep up with that, skilled workers are needed here who have to show commitment, otherwise the annual delivery won't arrive on time. "Christmas will not be canceled!" swore all of the old man's brothers and relatives when they met in the forest for their annual review. They had all promised to share their thoughts and preparations with him.

Looking at the side table now standing next to him, on which many red envelopes lie, he drops into his worn armchair and places the half-empty tub of his favorite tipple between the envelopes. A deep sigh of contentment can be heard. As he does so, he looks out of the large window at the snow-covered winter forest. At the review in summer, there were already the first requests for wheels on the sledges in case there is no more snow, well, climate change. Some think it's business as usual, others want everything to be free of stress and effort. The opportunists shout "Basta" and turn the buttons on and off as they please. With a big grin on his face, he takes a deep sip with relish and grabs the letters one by one. He begins to read...

He reads about worries, wishes and dreams. They write that the world is changing, there are also terrible things, wars, attacks and hostility. Santa Claus tells of people who, after years of abstinence due to the strange virus, are longing for shared experiences again. 

He learns from Knecht Ruprecht that the younger generation only works with "NewBalance" and "Wellbeing3.0".  Fun is in, what is performance? There should be no more results in sport: "Losing makes you sad, oooohh!" School grades are stupid too! 

Julenissen, on the other hand, emphasizes the importance of digitalization, which is particularly advanced in their case. Every schoolchild learns with a tablet or laptop. But he is very worried about the "schättSchiPiTi". It goes crazy too often and talks nonsense that he has otherwise only heard from stories in Dutch coffee shops or from Sinterklaas. 

Père Noël worries whether he will still be able to get anywhere, now that all the elves are equipped with the latest electric air cabs, but these are not allowed, not even to the Olympics in Paris. 

Meanwhile, Papa Noel bemoans the poverty, exploitation and child labor involved in the extraction of lithium, when everything should have been better with the introduction of the LKSG by the Europeans...

When he opens the letter from Father Frost, his curiosity gets the better of him... but there are still so many messages in front of him, ready to be read.
Strong doubts, resentment and annoyance spread through him. How can he motivate everyone not to give up on the most wonderful time of the year? Keep the faith of the children, our hope, alive? He looks up, puts his glasses to one side and gazes out into the dark night. The fir trees with their glistening snow-covered branches bend in the wind. His thoughts whirl in all directions. "Hohohoho" - he mumbles to himself after a while. "I've got it!" Stands up, walks over to his desk and, in an almost frantic movement, types in: "ChatGPT - Does Santa really exist?" ... bing, the answer in seconds!

He gets hot! Then he turns red with anger because of the sentence fragment "... is a fantasy figure", but just a few seconds later he is completely satisfied with the content of what he has just read. "Many people see Santa Claus as a symbolic and festive figure who embodies the spirit of generosity and joy. In this respect, Santa is more of a cultural tradition... in a real, physical sense, however, there is no evidence for Santa's existence as a real person flying through the sky handing out presents," writes the artificial intelligence machine. 

He picks up his thick black pen and begins the newsletter to everyone with the last lines he has read from the AI, taking particular care with his beautiful handwriting. At the end, he adds firmly "... and we do exist, basta!" Careful as ever, he folds up the letter in his own way and as he presses the hot seal on the envelope, the last lines of his favorite Loriot poem come smoothly from his lips:

"The silver bells ring softly. Knecht Ruprecht sets off on his journey. The candle burns in the forester's house. A little star is twinkling: It's Advent."

One of Santa's little helpers
Steffen Schaar