PART 1
We simply enjoy watching what they are doing in wind-up gadgets. These days, the department of wind-up gadgets is killing it. The revolving The rising The technology. We are floored. We are awestruck. The rumors that we at bath time toys are envious of the department that sells wind-up gadgets are completely false. We are thrilled and honored to be working alongside our colleagues in the wind-up device industry. We are all here pursuing the same objective. Each of us is a part of the same stunning quilt. Even though our square on the quilt is slightly smaller than the square on the wind-up gadget, this does not make us any less important. We’re essential. We are essential. We cannot eat. Hors d’oeuvres were promised to us.
We actually think it’s a great idea to hold the holiday party a week after Christmas because trying to celebrate before the big day will almost certainly cause delays and miss deadlines. We are severely short-staffed this year as it stands. Why we were concerned that our most recent rubber ducky model would not be finished in time for the 25th, just last week. Our department head was summoned to the Big Guy for multiple meetings. numerous meetings Slang was used. The voices were tense. It was rumored that the Big Guy spoke up at one point. The possibility of the department’s dissolution worried everyone. that other departments would be assigned to us. departments like doll furniture and collectibles. We wouldn’t say that these departments are bad, but they are clearly not as appealing as departments like Doll Hair, toys that encourage violence, and yes, wind-up gadgets.
PART 2
Our now-family would have been broken up if our department had been dissolved. We all cherish one another. We are inseparable. Yes, one of us yelled at Binkles until she began to cry and then continued to cry to the Big Guy, but that was an exception. It wasn’t typical. It never occurs. When the Big Guy stormed down to our section of the workshop and demanded that Good Ole Fricassee, head of our department, clean up, it was embarrassing. As a result, the Big Guy and Fricassee got into a heated argument, which made us all nervous. Fricassee responded by asking the Big Guy, “What kind of productivity can he reasonably expect when he asks us to do twice the work with half the budget?” Elves rarely respond to the Big Guy, but Fricassee did.
This year, these cookies are delicious. Was the food catered? Did we order catering? Even though we wouldn’t say it out loud, I think we can all agree that Mrs. The Big Guy isn’t very good at baking, and that the catering budget was cut. We also heard rumors that Mrs. The Big Guy would make all the cookies herself.
It is remarkable that anyone wanted to attend the holiday party given this year’s stress. Resources have been fought over among departments. Each month, the number of layoffs has increased by two. A poster that reads “Coffee Is Bad For You, But You Know What Isn’t?” was installed in place of the espresso machine in the breakroom. Work Hard!!
It is such a relief to be able to put all of that behind us and get together for a night of frivolity and fun. Although the DJ claims to be Iggy’s cousin, she does not practice law full-time. She works at a subsidiary of a reindeer daycare during the day. She’s playing all the hits, which we like. The band they hired the previous year kept playing the same four songs, two of which were covers of “Pete Pete the Elf Who Would Only Eat Raisins.”
Even though everyone is beaming with holiday cheer, we can tell that things will change when the new year rolls around. We have already been informed by Fricassee that the Big Guy intends to relocate us to a smaller section of the workshop. The only department that will not receive new uniforms is ours. We will now reduce our daily supply of cookies by half. It won’t be the same as it used to be. Bathtime toys used to be a top-tier toy department, as we recall. Because they were aware that our advice was worth more than a lovingly placed glass of milk by the fireside, people would walk by our desks and ask for our guidance on brand-new recreational inventions they were tinkering with.
Our colleagues now avoid eye contact when passing by. Their faces are filled with compassion. They are silent. They move quickly to better areas of the workshop, which we are not permitted to visit. Our fresh ideas become stale. Our perspectives diminish. We are aware that the lack of respect for us throughout the NP is hurting our work. Do you remember when Dasher told Prancer that inappropriate joke about us? By the time we learned about it, it had already spread throughout the entire office? The Big Guy claimed to have disciplined them, but we all know he never does. They are allowed to say whatever they want, even if it is hurtful. Dasher takes advantage of the favoritism especially when he uses his sour tongue.
Although Christmas may last forever, the decorations will change. It will change. It will find us gradually organizing our desks. putting our wrenches to use. putting our glitter in the trash. We will retire to the Home for Somewhat Elderly Elves when we reach the golden age of 8,021, where we will spend the rest of our lives reflecting on all the baths we have improved thanks to our numerous toys. the pretend boats Toy hippos that are afloat. Bobo the Bath Bear, who for no discernible reason squirts water out of his eyes. Over the years, we had some really big hits.
As we stand here right now, we ponder the fate of the pastries. The office parties, at which the Flag Day Fairy and the Easter Bunny would make special appearances. The limbo competition, in which the winner would get to travel around the world with Big Guy. As if we were all a large, contented family, Mrs. The Big Guy was doing the Electric Slide with us all.
Well. Isn’t it true that we are one big, contented family?
However, some families separate over time. Some move the staff members who are least useful to other departments. Budgets are cut for some. Some people are no longer permitted to participate in the limbo contest, but they still don’t want to because the prize is now a broken candy cane-shaped alarm clock.
Isn’t the week after Christmas always a little depressing?
Sure, there will be a new year, but what will it bring?
It might not be necessary to worry about it. We could just enjoy our punch, marvel at the ice sculpture, and sing along to “Pete Pete the Elf Who Would Only Eat Raisins.” It would appear that even this superior DJ has given in to playing it. We are not to blame for her.
It can be hard to break some customs.
