The last of the lights were up, the halls were officially decked and I stood back to admire my handiwork. I was about three seconds into the admiration when Terri walked into the room.
“I don’t know,” she said, “it seems…lacking.”
I glanced around at the more than seven-hundred light bulbs spread out around the downstairs, not to mention the ones outside, and tried to see where the holiday decorations were lacking.
“Hmmmm, well it’s the same set-up we had last year, and if I recall we both agreed everything looked spectacular,” I said, hoping to course correct and get us back on the “job completed” track.
“That was last year, before the pandemic” she said. “What was spectacular then now seems lacking.”
I looked at her and wondered what celebrity doctor feel-good afternoon show she had been watching.
“Like that corner over there, at the base of the stairs,” she said, pointing. “It could use some cheer.”
I often equate cheer with booze, especially at this time of year, and definitely this year, but I knew that’s not where we were heading.
“What, a little more light in that area is what we’re looking for?” I asked.
Terri nodded and studied the offending space. “More than just some light, I’m thinking we could probably use a few more sets of lights, but maybe we add some more decorations in general. You know, let’s take it up a level. Now more than ever, it should be all about light and cheer for the holidays.”
Terri smiled at me as if I were a young child assigned a chore. I took it as a non-verbal cue to leave the house at once and go in search of next level lights, decorations and cheer.
I masked up and headed to the store. I’d try the big box retailer first, just scoop up a few sets of lights, a few goofy decorations and declare the trip a success.
Inside, there was a noticeable edge. Hostility was in the air. A couple of workers in their snappy vests were separating two older guys by the front counter. Lots of finger pointing and yelling.
“Take it easy, Father Christmas,” one said to the other.
“I’m still young enough to kick your…”
I sped by the scuffle wondering what was going on. It was like an extra inning Yankee-Red Sox game was letting out. The kind where everyone had been in the stands too long and was tired of everything and everyone.
A worker raced past me, his walkie talkie screeching.
“Seasonal, two females with a ladder trying to get to the tree display.”
“I’m going to need backup,” the guy said, kicking it into a full out sprint.
Hmmm, seasonal. That’s where I was headed. For some cheer.
I was still a few aisles away when I heard a commotion. A din of muffled shouts. I reached the center of the store and the seasonal display area to find bedlam. A handful of customers yelling from behind their masks, pointing and screaming at one another. The shelves were as empty as the toilet paper aisle in April.
I waded carefully into the scrum, hoping to find a set of lights, or maybe even a single bulb. Nothing. Trash was littered about, artificial Christmas tree branches strewn on the floor, a knee-high plastic Rudolph battered and dented.
I reached the other end of the aisle and felt like I had survived some sort of retail gauntlet. An associate stood keeping a careful eye on group.
“You know where I can get a set of lights?” I asked.
The kid laughed a big laugh. “Hahahahahah,” he said, speaking into his walkie talkie. “Hey, I got someone over here just asked me where he can find a set of lights.”
“Send him to the aisle marked next year,” a response came.
“We got nothing, mister,” the kid said. “We’ve been wiped out for at least a week. See that lady there,” he said, pointing to a woman slowly examining the long empty shelves. “She comes in every day, goes over each shelf like maybe she’s missing something.”
I shook my head. “Sad,” I said.
“It is. We got people fighting over the beat up floor models of stuff. Two ladies just tried to pull down the display with the fake trees. People are going nuts.”
I left the guy dejected and was halfway down the next aisle when someone approached from behind.
“Hey, I couldn’t help but overhear you back there. You’re looking for lights, are you?”
I turned to see a guy with his mask up to right under his eyes. A little too high if you know what I mean.
“Yeah, maybe I am,” I said.
“Well, maybe I can help,” he said. “Maybe I have some lights, maybe even a couple of Santas.”
I slowed and thought about it.
“And how much-“
He cut me off, shushing me.
“Hey, hey, not so loud,” he said. “And keep walking. They got cameras everywhere, and the place is crawling with associates. Meet me out back, past the loading dock. Be there in five.”
And just like that, he was gone, walking away in the other direction.
I started for the doors, wading through more screaming matches and chaos at the customer service desk.
“What do you mean you’re out of Rudolph face masks?” someone yelled.
“How come there are no decorations?” someone else screamed at the beleaguered clerk. “You guys forget when Christmas is this year?”
The pandemic had taken its toll on holiday decorating now. I drove around to the back of the store. It was dusk, shadows creeping over the empty parking area. The loading dock doors were down. The place empty.
Off in the distance a car flashed its headlights. I cruised toward it.
I approached and lowered my window. The masked man from inside appeared in the driver’s seat as his window came down.
“I need three sets,” I said.
“All I got is two,” he said. “You know, supply and demand.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-five each,” he said.
“Twenty…twenty…”
“Like I said, supply and demand. You demand, I supply. And cash only, my friend.”
I forked over the $50 and he passed me two boxes of lights.
“You happen to have any cheer in there?” I asked.
He reached over to the passenger seat and came back with a small Santa that appeared to have lost a fight. White hair tangled, beard uneven and ragged, an arm twisted at an odd angle. I studied it for a moment.
“Perfect,” I said.