Musings of a Mall Santa

Contrary to how it may appear, Chris Heath can’t see you when you’re sleeping.

He doesn’t know when you’re awake. He doesn’t necessarily know if you’ve been bad, or good. But for the five weeks before Christmas he poses for photographs, cradles babies, dispenses candy canes, and brings joy and laughter to thousands of adults and children, all from inside an ornate Christmas Village in the middle of Vancouver’s Oakridge Shopping Centre.

Chris Heath is a mall Santa. Two or three days a week, he is based out of Royal City Shopping Centre in New Westminster. For the others, he is one of Oakridge’s two official Santas.

“This is my first year in a mall. And let me tell you, I’m having a freakin’ blast!” he beams. “It’s rewarding as hell. I just laugh all the time. The people are good. Some of the kids, they cry, sure, but that’s neither here nor there [...] I just want to give the kids the best experience I can, and get them the best pictures I can.“

Reclining in his temporary office, deep in the bowels of Oakridge Centre (a makeshift sign on the door reads “Santa’s Workshop”), his beard bleached white (as is common practice among mall Santas), Heath is one of the thirty-five employees of I Saw Santa!, a company that provides Santas to eighteen malls around the Lower Mainland, from Vancouver to Langley, and from Maple Ridge all the way to Whistler Village. He currently works six days a week, picking up extra shifts after six of I Saw Santa’s Santas were forced to take time off for medical reasons. He spends between seven and ten hours each day “in the chair,” with two meal breaks, and makes roughly $25 per hour.

“I’ve been kind of thinking about this since I was in my twenties,” he says, stroking his bleached facial-hair, “because I’ve always grown this shape of a beard. So, I always thought: ‘Well, when I’m old, at least I’ll have that for a job, right?’”

Heath, who is only 47, had dabbled in the Santa business before, but, until recently, his experience had been limited only to a handful of company Christmas parties.

“I’d done Santa a few times maybe ten years earlier,” he recalls, “when my niece and nephew were small. And, when I used to work in a mill, they said, ‘Oh, would you be Santa for us at our company Christmas Party? How much would you charge?’ And, I said to them, ‘I’ll be Santa for free. But you’ve got to rent me the best Santa suit you can find. I don’t want no welfare Santa Suit. And you have to let me keep it for the weekend so I can use it with my niece and nephew [...] And, when the night came, I told my boss, I said to him, ‘You got a present for every kid in there?’ And he says, ‘Yeah.’ And I said, ‘You have a few extras just in case?’ And he says, ‘No, I just got one for every kid.’ And I said, ‘You better have one for every kid in there, because if you don’t, Santa’s going to have to break your nose.’”

He laughs. This is the kind of bighearted practicality that seems characteristic of Heath; even after nearly ten hours of photos and public interaction, with the hour growing late, and his hair and shirt still damp with sweat, he remains affable, charming, and down-to-earth. He is honest and forthcoming about his occupation. He makes off-colour jokes and even swears occasionally. And he is excited that his current gig guarantees him the best parking spot in the mall. But, above it all, his passion for children, and the Santa business in general, is impossible to ignore.

“They treat me so well, here,” he says. “When I came in and started on the first day, there were two boxes of granola bars, a box of cookies, a bunch of this kind of stuff [Febreeze and Hand-sanitizer]. A big palette of water. I really feel like they’re going above and beyond, as far as treating us well. And my boss is fantastic. I mean, you have to do a criminal record check, because, of course, they don’t want no pedophiles, and he said: ‘Oh, I’ll pay for that.’ I had to have the beard dyed twice, and they paid for that, too. He’s picking up all the extras.”

Though Heath, who found the job through a Craigslist posting, is relatively new to the Santa game, he’s managed to accumulate a glut of knowledge in the past six weeks.

“Other Santas have given me fabulous tips,” he says. “For instance, if you have a baby, say, one that’s less than one year old, you can just make a cradle with your arm, and have the parents lay them in there. Then, when it comes time to give them back, I let them take the baby. I don’t lift no babies, I don’t reach for no babies, and so, I don’t drop no babies. Also, when you sit with a kid on your lap, you’re supposed to have your hand on their shoulder or out exposed, so that they’re not accidentally [somewhere they shouldn’t be] [...]. I have mouthwash that I use every time before I head out. Also, baby powder, which I put under my shirt, and a little in my beard, because babies really, you know, like that smell. And, because my beard isn’t quite as white as it could be. Beards don’t really bleach as well as hair does. According to the stylist, it has the same consistency as pubic hair.”

He looks sheepish for a moment.

“Sorry.”

In his time at Oakridge, Heath has interacted with hundreds of children and adults per day, with that number steadily increasing in the few remaining days before Christmas; and, as Heath readily admits, his visitors come in all shapes and sizes.

He laughs.

“My first pet ever was a cat. Dressed in a Santa Suit. Now, I don’t know about you, but if you even put my cat in a car, and took her to the mall, she’d be unhandleable. Unhandleable. Let alone, putting her in a Santa outfit.”

But, while some of his visitors may be of unusual shape and size, when it comes to his coworkers, Heath has nothing but accolades.

“They’ve got a few Santas that are just heads above me,” he smiles. “One of the guys who was working with me here has been doing it seventeen or eighteen years. The other guy in New West with me, at Royal City, where the Woodward’s used to be, he’s been there over thirty. He actually married a lady who now does Mrs. Claus, and she went home and checked her pictures, and realized that she’d taken her kids to him when they were small. In the same mall.”

He grins.

“Small world.”

He sits back, thoughtful.

“I’d kind of like to know what the guy at Guildford makes. He’s the same Santa that’s been there for maybe forty years. He’s not part of [I Saw Santa!] at all. As far as I know, they fly him in from Toronto. I haven’t heard anything concrete, but I’d bet he makes about double what I do, plus a hotel room, plus per diem, plus a plane flight.”

While I Saw Santa! typically provides the talent, most shopping centres have a number of Santa suits in their collection, in a variety of sizes. Santas have the option of using one of the mall’s costumes, or, as in many cases, bringing their own. And, as Heath explains, hours upon hours of sitting under warm lights in a fur-lined outfit is not without its consequences.

“I’m sure I’m losing weight,” he laughs, placing his Santa outfit on its hanger. “Look at this suit. That’s a heavy lining. That’s a suit that a guy could wear in a Santa Day parade in the freezing cold and not have to worry about it.”

He sits.

“I don’t usually wear a suit for more than two days in a row. At the end of a day, as you can see, my shirt is just wet. And after a couple of days, it’s just sweat lines, and it’s really tough. Kids will notice if you start to stink, and it starts to get itchy.”

“Boxing Day, you know what I’m gonna do?” he laughs, motioning to his beard, “Boxing Day, I’m shaving this whole thing off. I’m grabbing the clippers and trimming my hair down short, too. Then,” he mimes shoving food into his mouth, “just ribs.”