A Christmas Store

A store that never closes, for reasons no one knows.

I had noticed this store several times. It’s tucked in the back of a shopping plaza in my neighborhood, which itself is barely held together by the nearby Target and Home Goods. I think all they sell is Christmas decorations. Year-round. I mean, I’ve heard of Similar campy Christmas stores you’d find in resort towns or on a coast somewhere, nestled in between antique shops and the gourmet boba tea cafe. This isn’t that. This is a commerce plaza with a Dick’s Sporting Goods and a Video Only.

At first, they just kind of came and went, like those Spirit of Halloween stores that show up for a month out of the year and then blink out of existence. But one year, the Christmas store just stayed. It’s now April, and they’re still open, supposedly selling Christmas stuff. So one boring Sunday afternoon, I decided to go and check it out.

I was seriously expecting the door to chime or ring or something. Maybe a fancy “ho-ho-ho” ringtone sound. Instead, the door just slammed shut, bounced off the frame, and scared the snot out of me.

I did the thing that startled people do. Putting my hand on my chest like I was checking for blood. Instantly embarrassed because their door sucks, I look around to get my bearings. “Money laundering.” That was the first thing that came to mind, and even spoke out loud. Quietly, of course. I mean, sure, there was Christmas stuff everywhere—aisles of it. I was standing in a Christmas store, clearly. But something was off. Well, not just “something.” Literally, half the lights are off. There are dozens of fluorescent lighting fixtures, and it appears every other row is purposely turned off. Many of the lights intended to be on are in bad shape. Some flickering like they’re going to die out at any moment. It’s like this place was a cubicle farm, maybe cheap office space? I don’t notice any cameras either.

It’s also eerily quiet. No music. I can’t even hear anything from the air vents. Creepy. I’m definitely the only one in here. Probably the only one in here. I suddenly realize there isn’t much to smell either, despite the whole place just looking...damp. It looks like it should smell bad in here, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t smell like anything.

I make my way to the back of the store and see what appears to be a single register and check out counter only a few feet from the wall. I can hear something or someone just out of sight, shuffling around. I clear my throat. No response.

“So...how’s business been?” I asked.

“Huh?” A noticeably surprised, not too disheveled, and rail-thin gentleman poked up from behind the counter. Thinning but well-kept hair, a button-up long-sleeve shirt (untucked), and dark blue jeans. If there were a picture in the dictionary next to the word “pasty,” this is it. Easy.

“Oh, yeah! It’s good!” he replied, “Can I help you find something?”

“Uhm, not really, I was just poking around. Just curious. I don’t think I’ve seen a Christmas store open in April before.” He didn’t miss a beat.

“Well, now you have!” “Feel free to have a look around and let me know if you have any questions!”

My mind wanders to the last time I encountered someone so bubbly, they made me self-conscious about not smiling enough. I give him a nod and uncomfortably nudge at a Rudolf-themed pencil caddy. Now I’ve seen one of those as well. Sweet.

Pasty Joe has knelt back down behind the counter and resumes shuffling about with whatever he was doing when I walked in. I continue to look around and begin to notice a pattern. I’ve never seen so much mass-produced, worthless Temu-level crapware in one place. It’s not that the items themselves don’t serve any purpose but ...like seriously why would anyone want a Frosty the Snowman ice cube tray? or Christmas-themed office supplies? In all fairness, alot of the store is what you’d normally expect. Kind of. The fake trees, lights, plastic lawn ornaments and inflatables. All the normal decorating stuff. Then there’s the 6 aisles dedicated to normal everyday home and office stuff...but Christmas-themed.

I pick up a lumbar pillow with a screen-printed elf parade on it and check the firmness. As surprisingly squishy as it is confusing. Thinking back to all the classics. A movie, show, or song depicting an elf parade is not something I remember. I begin to reach for a red stapler with a holly motif when homie almost gives me a heart attack.

“How’s everything goin!” he blurts out 2 feet from the back of my head. “Oh sorry! Didn’t mean to rattle ya!”

“No, its fine. I’m fine. Just didn’t hear you sneak up...” Wow. I’m going to die here. This is where I die. In a Christmas Store.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name. I’m Aaron.”

“Oh Yeah, I’m Alex! You can call me Alan if you want, though. My neighbor has for 5 years,” he laughs. It’s a genuine laugh.

“That’s funny, I once had a neighbor who kept calling me Shawn,” I relate. The two of us share an awkwardly long 5 seconds of uncomfortable smirking.

I cannot break the stalemate fast enough. “So Alex, how long have you worked here?”

“Oh, yeah! Wow! Aahh....Who’s the President now?” ...What... I try to interrupt whatever misfire he’s having.

“So a long time then?” I interject.

“Oh, yeah! Most of my adult life, a little before that as well...I’m pretty sure.”

“Okay…cool. It looks like you’ve got quite a collection here. Lots of, uh, Variety. I’ve never seen a ...Santa face... bathroom scale”

“Oh yeah! We get all the good stuff from around the world! More than we need, really.” Alex suddenly stares off and squints toward one of the fluttering lightbulbs overhead, his left eye kind of twitching in time with the flicker.

Before I could comment, he turns back “Ya see, the Christmas decoration business is quite massive! So massive, in fact, there are investors!” Alex eagerly gestures “Alot of them! and those investors are part of a global conglomerate that specializes in the Christmas industry!”

I am suddenly more uncomfortable and now keenly aware that Alex and I are the only two people in the store.

Alex continues, as I reconsider my life choices. “Ya know most places come around once a year, set up shop for a while, and then poof! They’re gone, like February 30th! By February 30th! No! Yes! I had it right! No, the people I work for, they figured it out! If you never close, you never have to move all the product into storage! If you never have to move, you save all that money for your employees! They pay my rent!” I was kind of shocked to hear this.

“Oh wow! They pay your rent? That’s a nice perk. Is it close by?”

“Oh Yeah! Its right over there!” he exclaims, while pointing toward the front counter. A shiver launches from my ankles to the top of my head.

“Alex, do you live here?” I ask cautiously.

“What? NO! No no, no, I don’t live here. Sometimes I sleep here, for free though!” He insisted.

I’m trying really hard to keep my eyes from widening in panic. “Well, that sounds like a pretty great setup” I say, taking a slow half step toward the front door.

“Oh! That’s not the half of it!” Alex isn’t done with his story. “You see, all those investors, they expect a return on their hard-earned dollars! Something has to keep the machine churning.” His eyes widen. “People can only decorate so much, so most of this stuff goes unsold! I have 3 dozen artificial trees from 1998!”

“Wow, that’s insa...” I can’t seem to sneak in commentary.

“They won’t let us throw anything away. That would anger the investors! So they came up with a brilliant plan. Make EveRytHinG! And I mean Everything! Christmas decor! The Spatulas! The water bottles, coffee makers, calculators, end tables and the bath mats!” At this point, I feel like Alex really needs a pet. Maybe a goldfish.

“They’re in phase 1 now, with stores like mine popping up all over! Worldwide! Phase 2 will...” A sudden pause, and I can’t help but express shock now. “Alex?” I ask sheepishly. He goes silent, apparently staring at a board game called “Jingle Balls” but I don’t think he’s actually looking at anything. He slowly surveys the rest of the shelves in front of him, straightening a few knick-knacks here and there. He glances back over at me “So anyway, you let me know if you need anything!”

“OK. Thanks,” I carefully reply back.

Alex wanders his way back to the front counter/bedroom, or whatever and I begin my way back to the front door, thoroughly confused and kinda scared. What a strange experience. Phases? A master plan for retail expansion? What?! Then he zoned out like someone hit a reset button.

I’m watching the product on the shelves as I walk past and notice something. I was so distracted by the weirdness of it all that I didn’t see it before now. There aren’t any brand names on anything. Like, there are names of the items and there’s packaging, but the stapler isn’t a Swingline or any other brand. Nothing has a brand. I walk past a section of reindeer kitchen utensils, and the set of knives is literally just a box of knives with each one having a reindeer name. Rudolf, being the chef’s knife. Because of course it is.

I’m now equal parts intrigued and in a damn hurry to leave. As if this venture couldn’t get any more uncomfortable. So, I do the only sane thing and swiftly tiptoe around the store as fast as I can, looking at packaging. I can hear Alex back by the register, rummaging about. I consider faking that I’m leaving by opening the door and letting it slam shut.

No. It’s best to stick with the original plan.

I continue my hunt for a single brand name, frantically searching the shelves and…

“Ohmigod! Hey Alex!” Third jump scare is my limit. Dammit! He’s like an anemic ninja. Must be the aerodynamics.

“Finding everything OK, Aaron?” He asks almost suspiciously.

“Ah... yeah man, I’m gonna get ...this!” I say, grabbing the very first thing in reach. A mistletoe-themed shower curtain. Probably the classiest thing in here. Perfect.

“Oh yeah! That’s a popular one!” Alex cheerfully replies and I give a solid, if partly sarcastic, “for sure” in response.

Check-out is thankfully the most uneventful part of the visit. Nice and quiet. No chit chat. Just forgetting the last 15 minutes ever happened. There we go. Beep. Bag. Receipt. Smile and “thanks.” Cool. I wanna go home. As I’m pushing the door open, “Oh, hey! Come back any time, Aaron!” I hear from the back of the store. “Sure Thing!” I say in response. I remember the door and try to catch it from slamming. I miss. The door bounces off the frame loudly and comes to a rest. I’m not coming back. I like Alex, and I even kind of feel bad for him. I think. Actually, I don’t know. He seems really pleased with his life.

What am I going to do with a mistletoe shower curtain? I have a shower door. I examine the packaging and the product on the way back out to the car. No brand name. No anything. Just “Mistletoe Shower Curtain.” Not even a country of origin...Huh.

A week goes by, and I’ve resigned the experience to an odd story I may or may not tell someday. I’m out on a walk with the dog and notice a large black plume of smoke rising over the trees. It’s in the general direction of the plaza. “I can’t be. Right?” I think as the sirens get louder and fade. After we get back home, I realize I have nothing better to do with my time and begin wondering about the Christmas store. After a quick existential crisis, I decide to go investigate.

It’s definitely on fire. So much so that the firefighters are just spraying down everything around the store because it’s just the best use of water. The structure is done for. I count 5 trucks and several other emergency vehicles. I watch for a bit, wondering if Alex is OK. I don’t see any ambulances, and I’m not sure what to think about that. I park the car and see if I can’t get someone to explain what they know. What looks like a crew leader, maybe an investigator, is standing near the perimeter they have cordoned off.

I wave to get her attention. “Hey! Do you know what started it?”

“Huh?” she replies, confused. I point at the building on fire.

“Oh. Yeah. Ah, a gas leak. Pretty sure it was a gas leak,” she says.

“Really? A gas leak.”

“Yes!” she snaps back, quickly checking her phone. She’s annoyed with me now, and I’m in shock. Again. My best friend is a commercial propane salesman. He’s been complaining about this plaza turning him down for the last five years. There is no gas leak because there’s no gas. That lady just lied to me. Or, maybe she’s just incredibly stupid...An incredibly stupid fire investigator? I’m so confused.

I go back to the car. Making my way out of the parking lot, I pass behind one of the firetrucks. Something catches my eye. There’s an axe mounted on the back and what looks like a fire department logo on the bright red handle. Except, it’s green and misshapen. What? I roll down the window a bit and focus. It’s a pair of holly leaves.

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