good people at this store believe exactly as I do."
A warm smile spread across the mother's face. "That's the spirit."
"Now, Dorothy," Kringle said to the girl, "if you're a good girl and do what your mother says, you're going to have a Patty Pollywog."
Shellhammer beamed. He hadn't seen crowds like this in years. But his favorite part was standing by the exit, watching the expressions on the children's faces. They were ecstatic.
"You the boss?" a woman called out to him.
"I'm the general manager," Shellhammer replied.
"My kid asked Santa Claus for a Barf Gun. They're ninety bucks without batteries or barf!"
"Prices do go up," Shellhammer said
"Not at Bargain Village. Fifty-two fifty, and they throw in the batteries—according to your Santa Claus."
"Excuse me?" Shellhammer asked. He was sure he hadn't heard right.
"Your Santa's telling people where to go to shop. If you don't have it here, or it's too expensive, he's sending people to where they can get it, and at the right price."
Suddenly Shellhammer was feeling faint. "Ma'am, could you excuse me for a moment?"
His mind reeling, he darted down the hallway.
Kriss Kringle, indeed.
This man had to be fired at once!
November 29, 5:49 P.M.
26 Days To Christmas
"You tell your Santa he made a Cole's shopper out of me!" the woman yelled after Shellhammer. "I'm coming here for everything but toilet paper and bananas."
Shellhammer stopped short. He turned slowly around.
"Any store that puts a parent ahead of the almighty dollar at Christmas deserves my business, she continued, grinning. "You tell Mr. Cole, if he's still alive, that his Santa Claus ought to get a raise!"
With a friendly wave, she walked away.
Shellhammer watched her go. Thoughts jumbled around in his head.
Then he sped off—toward Dorey Walker's office.
He pushed the door open. "Santa Claus just gave me a great idea! Listen: What can we offer shoppers the discount places can't?"
Dorey looked up from her laptop, startled. "Uh higher prices"
" Service . And why are we different?"
"Higher prices?" Dorey asked.
"We care ," Shellhammer barged on. "We're not some big barn full of bargains where you can't get a question answered. We offer friendly, traditional service. We're a company you can trust. And do you know how we prove it?"
"Lower prices."
"No! If Cole's doesn't have what you're looking for, we'll find it for you—even if it means sending you somewhere else. How's that sound?"
"Sounds like a great way to go out of business," Dorey remarked.
"Mr. Kringle's been doing it all morning and we've had nothing but compliments. We're going to the chairman with it."
Dorey's jaw dropped. "We?"
"Mr. Cole loves you. He listens to you about things like this. If we don't turn this store around, we're all gone—from the chairman to the janitor."
"I don't know. . . ."
Shellhammer leaned forward, his eyes blazing. "Do we save this grand old store, or do we see it stripped of everything but its name?"
Dorey thought for a moment. Then she slammed her laptop shut. "Let's go."
Across from Mr. Cole's long desk, Dorey could feel her knees shaking. It hadn't taken long to pitch their idea. But Cole was taking an hour to respond.
Well, at least it felt like an hour.
The dark mahogany walls seemed to be closing in. The office was like a museum of antiques—and Mr. Cole was one of them.
Cole was old. He was also heavy, and from the expression on his face, you'd think he had permanent indigestion. He leaned over his desk and glared over his wire-rimmed glasses.
"I like it," he growled. "It's bold. It's fresh. It'll drive Victor Lamberg nuts."
Dorey felt like screaming with joy.
"Can you be ready with this for the morning paper?" Cole asked.
Dorey gulped. The morning paper? Hoo, boy. This was going to be a long night.
November 30, 9:05 A.M.
25 Days To Christmas
HOW SANTA CLAUS
CHANGED THE WAY
COLE'S DOES BUSINESS!
Lamberg scanned the newspaper ad "service" . . . "truth" . . . "referrals
A warm smile spread across the mother's face. "That's the spirit."
"Now, Dorothy," Kringle said to the girl, "if you're a good girl and do what your mother says, you're going to have a Patty Pollywog."
Shellhammer beamed. He hadn't seen crowds like this in years. But his favorite part was standing by the exit, watching the expressions on the children's faces. They were ecstatic.
"You the boss?" a woman called out to him.
"I'm the general manager," Shellhammer replied.
"My kid asked Santa Claus for a Barf Gun. They're ninety bucks without batteries or barf!"
"Prices do go up," Shellhammer said
"Not at Bargain Village. Fifty-two fifty, and they throw in the batteries—according to your Santa Claus."
"Excuse me?" Shellhammer asked. He was sure he hadn't heard right.
"Your Santa's telling people where to go to shop. If you don't have it here, or it's too expensive, he's sending people to where they can get it, and at the right price."
Suddenly Shellhammer was feeling faint. "Ma'am, could you excuse me for a moment?"
His mind reeling, he darted down the hallway.
Kriss Kringle, indeed.
This man had to be fired at once!
November 29, 5:49 P.M.
26 Days To Christmas
"You tell your Santa he made a Cole's shopper out of me!" the woman yelled after Shellhammer. "I'm coming here for everything but toilet paper and bananas."
Shellhammer stopped short. He turned slowly around.
"Any store that puts a parent ahead of the almighty dollar at Christmas deserves my business, she continued, grinning. "You tell Mr. Cole, if he's still alive, that his Santa Claus ought to get a raise!"
With a friendly wave, she walked away.
Shellhammer watched her go. Thoughts jumbled around in his head.
Then he sped off—toward Dorey Walker's office.
He pushed the door open. "Santa Claus just gave me a great idea! Listen: What can we offer shoppers the discount places can't?"
Dorey looked up from her laptop, startled. "Uh higher prices"
" Service . And why are we different?"
"Higher prices?" Dorey asked.
"We care ," Shellhammer barged on. "We're not some big barn full of bargains where you can't get a question answered. We offer friendly, traditional service. We're a company you can trust. And do you know how we prove it?"
"Lower prices."
"No! If Cole's doesn't have what you're looking for, we'll find it for you—even if it means sending you somewhere else. How's that sound?"
"Sounds like a great way to go out of business," Dorey remarked.
"Mr. Kringle's been doing it all morning and we've had nothing but compliments. We're going to the chairman with it."
Dorey's jaw dropped. "We?"
"Mr. Cole loves you. He listens to you about things like this. If we don't turn this store around, we're all gone—from the chairman to the janitor."
"I don't know. . . ."
Shellhammer leaned forward, his eyes blazing. "Do we save this grand old store, or do we see it stripped of everything but its name?"
Dorey thought for a moment. Then she slammed her laptop shut. "Let's go."
Across from Mr. Cole's long desk, Dorey could feel her knees shaking. It hadn't taken long to pitch their idea. But Cole was taking an hour to respond.
Well, at least it felt like an hour.
The dark mahogany walls seemed to be closing in. The office was like a museum of antiques—and Mr. Cole was one of them.
Cole was old. He was also heavy, and from the expression on his face, you'd think he had permanent indigestion. He leaned over his desk and glared over his wire-rimmed glasses.
"I like it," he growled. "It's bold. It's fresh. It'll drive Victor Lamberg nuts."
Dorey felt like screaming with joy.
"Can you be ready with this for the morning paper?" Cole asked.
Dorey gulped. The morning paper? Hoo, boy. This was going to be a long night.
November 30, 9:05 A.M.
25 Days To Christmas
HOW SANTA CLAUS
CHANGED THE WAY
COLE'S DOES BUSINESS!
Lamberg scanned the newspaper ad "service" . . . "truth" . . . "referrals
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