Roger Collier

I 've never liked Santa. His appeal is lost on me. Sure, he gives presents to children all over the world, which is nice. Except for that, though, he doesn't have much going for him. He's lazy, putting in a few hours' work each Dec. 24 and then calling it a year. He's a glutton who inhales cookies like oxygen. And he invites kids he's never met to sit on his lap. Any other guy who tried to pull that stunt would end up with an address five kilometres from the nearest school.

Over the past year, while people everywhere struggled through a terrible economy, the thing that has bugged me most about Santa is his discriminatory hiring practices. When joyriding in his sleigh, Mr. Claus likes to bellow "Ho Ho Ho!" But if you stand over four feet tall and lack pointy ears and shoes, the only words out of Santa's mouth if you ask him for a job are "No No No!"

How is it possible, in today's world, that an employer can hire only elves and get away with it? I've got nothing against elves, mind you. They're cheerful. They work hard. Elves are also immortal and rarely retire before age 265, making it difficult for humans to match them in work experience. But people need jobs, too.

During the 12 months following October 2008, about 400,000 Canadians were thrown out of work. Though the recession is technically over and the job market is showing inklings of recovery, it's still tough out there. Full-time jobs are hard to come by, high-paying ones harder still. Many of the unemployed would no doubt welcome an opportunity to make toys for a living.

Canadians would be ideal candidates for jobs at the North Pole. We are used to frigid weather. We already own tuques.

And as the world's per capita leaders in doughnut consumption, Canadians could easily adjust to the region's traditional all-sugar diet. Still, the odds of an ex-Nortel employee from Ottawa landing a job in Santa's workshop are much closer to none than to slim.

Santa doesn't just discriminate against humans, though. Or even against only tall beings. He has never hired a gnome, a hobbit or a fairy. During the Irish potato famine of the 1840s, thousands of down-on-their-lucky-charms leprechauns begged St. Nick for work. The big man turned them away. All stomach, that Santa, no heart.

When asked about his hiring policy, Santa puts his hands on his ample belly and laughs.

You know, his jolly shtick. If pressed, however, he will say that elves are better than any other creature at making toys because of their superior finger dexterity. Sounds reasonable. Too bad it's total baloney.

Santa's workshop is completely automated -- has been since 1991. Toy parts are shipped in from Taiwan and assembled by robots at a rate of 10 toys per minute. The finished products are stored in a 120,000-square-metre warehouse. Santa's inventory management software is among the most sophisticated in the world -- second only to Wal-Mart's, in fact.

Elves haven't made toys by hand in years. They run the machines now. They push buttons, drink virgin eggnog, push more buttons, drink hot chocolate. You no longer need nimble digits to do the job -- just a comfort with computers and a sturdy bladder.

The only way to force the North Pole's human resources department to modernize its hiring practices is to publicly shame Santa for his prejudice against non-elves. But that's going to be hard. To say Santa is a media darling is an understatement. No fat man has enjoyed such good press since Babe Ruth. After all, reporters have kids too.

But enough is enough. This can't go on forever. No race, religion or tribe of magical beings should be granted a monopoly on a profession. It's 2009, for Pete's sake. There's an African-American in the White House. Surely we can put a six-footer in Santa's workshop.

If you happen to be reading this Santa, it's nothing personal. Though, I admit, I'm still a bit miffed about Christmas 1982. I was only six years old, so my handwriting wasn't great, but surely you should have known I meant "Atari" and not "a sari." Roger is a boy's name, genius. My friends teased me mercilessly when I wore that dress to school.