Santa Works at Sam's Club

I almost entitled this post: “Why Every Family Needs a Truck.” And you’ll soon see why . . .

We recently decided to buy two twin beds for our guest bedroom. The main reason we’re doing this now, as opposed to later, is that my grandparents and parents are coming to visit us in a few weeks and we don’t want to make my grandparents sleep on either the lumpy futon or the air mattress on the floor. Aren’t we so nice?

After shopping around, we found the best deal at Sam’s and purchased the beds last night, just as the store was closing for the evening. If you know Kevin, you know that he drives a little Honda Accord. As you’re reading this, you may be wondering, since you’re an intelligent person, “How on earth are Amy and Kevin going to fit two mattresses, two box-springs, and two bed frames in their little car?” We were also slightly concerned about this potential predicament. But, being the type of people who would never let a little problem like this faze us, we proceeded to move forward.

You know how, at places like Sam’s Club and Costco, they always check your receipt, and mark it with a big line, when you exit the store? Well, the guy who was doing this last night was a very portly gent, with a full belly, round cheeks, snow-white hair, and a long curly beard. As we left the store, I whispered to Kevin, “He looks like Santa Claus.”

Well, would you know it, the mattresses wouldn’t fit after all. And we were so sure that they would! In a moment of brilliant inspiration, we decided that Kevin should go to WalMart, buy rope to tie the mattresses to the top of our car, and then make two trips home to take the bed sets, one at a time. In the meantime, Amy would wait for him in front of Sam’s, guarding the goods.

As I stood outside in the cold, waiting for Kevin, I was slightly bored. So, I decided to sit down on the curb, call my sister Christy, and have a chat. After ending my conversation with her, I looked up to see the cheery gentleman with the white beard who marked our receipt, staring down at me. “Are you okay?” he asked. I told him that I was and explained that I was waiting for my husband. His eyes twinkled (like only a true Santa’s eyes could twinkle) and in a moment he was gone again. But before he left my presence, I caught sight of his name badge. In big black capital letters, it read “SANTA.”

So, yes, Amy, there really is a Santa Claus. And, when he’s not busy taking toys to children, he works at Sam’s Club in Roseville, California.