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© Carlo Dapino | Dreamstime.com

I was doing last minute Christmas shopping at my local store when I asked the clerk what time they closed on Christmas Eve.

“Eleven p.m.,” said the young woman in the red Santa cap, her long brown pony tail swinging over her shoulder. She always has a big smile and a “I’m here to help you” attitude.

“At least you can sleep in on Christmas morning,” I said, remembering many Christmas Eves when I worked late. Contrary to popular belief, writers aren’t born sitting in front of a computer. We’ve had jobs, lots of jobs to pay the bills while we learn our craft.

The young clerk lost her smile. “No. I have to be here at nine a.m. and work until five on Christmas.”

Bummer.

This hard-working gal will barely have time to leave cookies out for Santa before she has to go back to work.

Talk about a corporate Scrooge.

Yes, Virginia, the store is open on Christmas. Even Dickens’ bah humbug character gave Bob Cratchit the holiday off.

Unlike my modern day Scrooge, Nick Radnor, in my Naughty Christmas Carol story.

Nick orders his secretary, Jinger, to come into the office on Christmas morning for her holiday “boner.”

He reminds me of the young clerk’s corporate boss making his staff work on Christmas.

Which is why I wrote A Naughty Christmas Carol. Yes, it’s sexy and erotic and very naughty, but I wanted to tell a modern tale of a man so blinded by corporate greed, he’s in danger of losing everything—including the woman he loves.

Why?

Because Nick has lost his perspective on what’s really important.

People. Good, hard-working people.

It’s what drives our economy. In our fast-moving world of techno gadgets and text messaging, we often forget that.

So has big business.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could sprinkle “goodwill mist” on corporate bosses like the Ghost of Christmas Present does in “A Naughty Christmas Carol?”

Nick says:

“Zap the guy over there, the one ignoring the Salvation Army captain ringing his bell. He’s the most notorious hedge fund operator on Wall Street.”

“My pleasure, Nicky boy.”

With a loud whoosh, the Ghost sprayed him. In less than a New York minute, the Wall Street hotshot was writing a check to the charity for a high five figures.

Cool, huh?

That brings me back to the young clerk with the pony tail. She’s a smart young woman with a great attitude and she’s willing to work hard to get ahead. I salute her.

So if you dash out for that last minute gift on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning, take a moment to say a special “thank you” to the clerk waiting on you.

They won’t forget it. And neither will you.

It’s the best Christmas present of all.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!

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