Another Christmas story

Cynthia from HR brought around the Christmas card. By the time it reached Henderson’s desk, it was already bulging with bills.

Henderson sighed and reached for his wallet. He wasn’t crazy about diminishing his meager supply of cash, but it was Christmas and he supposed he should do his part to help the less fortunate. Probably a coworker had suffered some medical emergency, some unforeseen household disaster.

He slipped a fiver into the card and then noticed the name on the envelope.

“Mr. Ryan? Who’s that? The only Ryan at this company is the boss.”

Cynthia smiled and took the envelope. “Yes, Donald J. Ryan. The Third. He’s a wonderful boss, isn’t he?”

Henderson frowned. “Depends what you mean by ‘wonderful.’ I haven’t gotten a raise in five years, while the company’s profits have about tripled. But I suppose he’s nice enough. What happened? Is he all right?”

Cynthia looked at him blankly. “Oh yes. He’s fine. Never better. Why do you ask?”

“If he’s fine, why are we giving him money? Isn’t that his new Bentley out front?”

“Glenn! I’m surprised at you! It’s Christmas! Have you forgotten the year-end bonus Mr. Ryan has announced? He’s been very generous. Surely you won’t mind returning the favor, in the spirit of the holiday?”

Henderson blinked. He leaned forward in his chair. “That ‘bonus’ is a $25 Target gift card. Which we still haven’t seen. And this year we’re paying an extra $100 a month for medical insurance. Why on earth would we want to give Ryan more money?”

Cynthia pursed her lips. “It’s the right thing to do, Glenn. Mr. Ryan enjoys those commercials where the beautiful wife is surprised on Christmas morning with a new Cadillac Escalade, topped with a giant red bow. And then when she gets behind the wheel, there’s this box on the passenger seat, also with a red bow, containing a 10-carat diamond ring. And then she looks in the rearview mirror and there’s a trailer with a 46-foot cabin cruiser on it. Another red bow, of course.”

Glenn stood. His lips were trembling. “Let me get this straight: Donald J. Ryan, the richest man any of us know, wants all his workers to donate for a bunch of ostentatious Christmas gifts for his latest wife?”

“Well, yes. But he also considers it a sensible investment.”

Glenn was shouting by now. “Is the man mad? Is he a complete fucking idiot?”

Cynthia shrugged and moved away, absently leafing through the currency in the card.

“No dear. He’s a Republican.”