A Christmas elf’s innermost thoughts

As the holidays approach, those moonlighting as Santa’s helpers must draw on deep reserves of patience and perkiness

Sydney Aldridge is helping a child find a red pen to colour in Rudolph’s nose. The 22-year-old is dressed in red and white striped tights, a bright green and red tunic and a green pointy hat with a bell on the end. It is freezing cold and she is an elf shepherding children to Father Christmas at London Zoo. One elf is booming theatrically at the entrance; another is looking at his finger nails.

The elves have one thing in common - all are resolutely cheerful, in spite of the skimpy costumes and the bitter chill. Ms Aldridge, an actress, claims to love the “silliness” and jumping around to keep warm.

As Christmas approaches, actors, performance artists, holiday camp performers, students and temporary workers are donning green outfits and working in grottos in shopping malls, department stores, theme parks and corporate functions trying to chivvy children and adults into the festive spirit. The pay varies hugely. Some are on minimum wage whereas theatrical performers can expect substantially higher day-rates.

Perkiness is a prerequisite. In his SantaLand diaries, the American humorist, David Sedaris, described working as a grotto elf. Two people threatened to have him fired. His private reaction? “Go ahead. Be my guest. I’m wearing a green velvet costume. It doesn’t get any worse than this. Who do these people think they are? I’m going to have you fired. And I want to lean over and say, ‘I’m going to have you killed’.”

Such an attitude would not be tolerated by Louise Loe, client liaison manager at Magenta Star, which provides grottos to shopping centres. “Even if their feet are sore and want to sit down. Even if they feel awful inside.” Josephine Ewart, owner of Birmingham-based Flamingo entertainments, which provides elves for grottoes and corporate parties, agrees. “They have a responsibility to make sure everyone is happy. Elves can be cheeky, but if they look scruffy they’ll be in big trouble.”

Michael Day, the London variety organiser at Equity, the actors union, says that the nature of the seasonal work means that elves are generally not on Equity-covered contracts but rather negotiate individually with an employer. The downsides of the work, he says, can be that people are not paid on time and have few breaks. Common complaints are the costumes. “Sometimes they are ill-fitting or occasionally inappropriate, if someone has tried to jazz it up.” Things are better than they were, he says. During the recession, actors found themselves in fierce competition with throngs of unemployed from all walks of professional life.

Richard Jones, who calls himself, alternately, a “silent clown”, a “mime artist”, actor and performer, claims to love his elf work. “We’re trying to move people to a place of joy and that’s a great feeling.” He also enjoys access to places he would not normally see. The 46-year-old who studied at the École Philippe Gaulier, which teaches physical performance, says the variety of work is compelling - in one week he worked at St James’s Palace and then in a petshop window in Northampton.

As with any role, he says, he must work on the physicality and think himself into the character. The short intense bursts of performance required, he says, make it very different to an “elf grotto practitioner” who works for eight-hour stints, hustling children to Father Christmas. He claims the pay is better too. “This is high-end stuff.”

Mr Jones admits working as a comedy elf is not for everyone. “People might look down on us but it’s addictive.” In the time he has been doing this kind of work, he claims, British crowds have become more receptive.

“I’ve done street-performing for 25 years. I’ve been threatened; on stilts, someone would always try to knock you off.” Now people are more receptive, he insists. Any negative comments, he says, are more likely to be delivered from the mouth of a 40-year-old mother than a teenage menace. “I’ve occasionally had trouble from people belittling you, metaphorically kicking the clown.”

Edmund Harcourt, co-founder of Hogarth Productions, has sent elves to shopping malls in Abu Dhabi and even placed a naked Santa in a workplace life drawing session. He believes the popularity of immersive theatre - by the likes of Punchdrunk, which has set productions in tunnels and encourages audience members to interact with the cast - has helped erode inhibitions.

Elf costume has its limitations. After Mr Jones’s normal attire was accidentally removed by a hotel cleaner he found no one took his complaint seriously. “It was difficult being irate in reception dressed as an elf,” he reflects.

The hardest jobs can be office parties, according to Mr Jones who also does role-play acting at the London Business School (demonstrating interviewing techniques or solving business problems, for example). “People are pretty nervous about letting their hair down. Functions where people are also trying to make sales can be tricky.”

Offices are also a challenge for 47-year-old Danny Schlesinger, who has won two awards for his balloon skills and starred in a Norwegian short film, called Sniffer. “Parents aren’t really sure if it is work or play and how they are meant to play it. The office organiser is often stressed - they want to look good in front of their boss and often end up micromanaging me.”

Ms Ewart says some parents take themselves far too seriously. “My attitude is that Santa is as important as any chief executive. He has to lead the grotto, read the parents right, involve the children.” He requires “good leadership skills” and must ensure “a good dynamic between the elves”.

Victoria Hambling, a 24-year-old actress who has performed in fringe theatre, has been an elf at Lakeside shopping centre in Essex for the past four years. Managing children queueing for the star attraction - Santa - can be hard. Some are shy; some very chatty, proclaiming excitedly such news as “I ate my first whole sandwich yesterday”; others break down. “It all gets too much, they cry and run away,” she says.

The worst are the parents, she says. Mr Schlesinger agrees. “Parents can be pushy - they push their kid into getting what they want.”

(c) 2014 The Financial Times Limited

19-12-2014