John Del Signore: When I Was Santa (In Conclusion: All I Want Is My Fair Share) @12:55 PM
Previously in our tale of seasonal Santa-employment: Part Two, Part One.
The P.A. system at Saks played a twenty-minute loop of holiday music, providing ample opportunity to fall in love with each of those timeless classics again and again. And then again! Have you every wondered how many times you'll have to hear 'Holly, Jolly Christmas,' 'Feed the World' or 'Hark! The Bells,' before you can die? Well, put on some coffee because I'm living proof that you've got quite a bit more "Oh by golly have a holly jolly Christmas! This year!" to go. READ MORE 7
John Del Signore: When I Was Santa (Part Two: Where the Hand Has Been) @2:10 PM
Previously in our tale of Christmas-time Santa-employment: Part One.
One my first day, Patricia the Saks Santa-wrangler and I rode the escalators up to the eighth floor and turned off into a long, gray hallway lined with lockers. Sales clerks squeezed by us carrying trays of food and drink.
"There's an employee cafeteria back here in case you ever want anything to eat," she said.
"Nobody likes a skinny Santa!"
John Del Signore: When I Was Santa (Part One: Silver and Gold) @3:30 PM
I was nodding off at my desk, high up in the airtight offices of Deutsche Bank, across the street from the World Trade Center, when the big call finally came through.
I had been temping at Deutsche Bank for about a month, on assignment through one of the employment agencies that used to keep our city's offices humming with human resources. My supervisor had been out of town for the whole month, and my sole task was to take down his telephone messages and read them back when he called in. The period concluding that sentence also punctuates the full extent of my duties. READ MORE 14
Guest Op Ed: Could You Sleep Last Night? Man, Me Neither! @2:04 PM
From time to time, The Awl offers its space to public-minded everyday citizens to express their point of view on the events of the day. Today we turn our space over to John Del Signore, who labors during the days as the senior editor of Gothamist, but moonlights as a national security specialist.
You guys. Can anyone else not stop thinking the butt bomber? Tossing and turning last night, it kept gnawing at me: this guy spent the last 30 hours of his life with a bomb up his ass. And then he died. Cause of death: exploding butt. (Or not, but come on.) How hardcore is that? It's not as if he excused himself to use the bathroom, excreted the bomb, then came back and threw it at his enemy and dashed away. No, he pulled a super colon blow and then he died. READ MORE 14
