The man with the voluntary work

The day before Christmas and it was really freezing outside. Nothing, absolutely nothing, indicated anything special. The weather was cloudy and the streets were wet. The woman wiped back and forth a little on the windowsill with the duster, but wasn't paying attention.

She wished it would snow, as it should at this time of year. She had hung a star with changing-coloured lights on every window, but the plugs were dangling loosely. She hadn't even plugged them in this year. 'But for what?', she thought to herself. No one would come to visit her during the holidays. The children were far away, somewhere in Spain. 'We want to avoid the hustle and bustle, Mother. All the fuss about Christmas is nothing more than commercialism. We'll send you a card.'

However, the fact that her daughter and her family wanted nothing to do with this holiday did not exclude her grandchildren's long wish lists. They had asked Grandma for things whose names she couldn't even pronounce. She hadn't wanted to go to the shops with a meticulously written computer printout from the children. Instead, she simply put the money in an envelope and handed it over. She didn't care. If no one was going to be there at Christmas to unwrap presents and eat with her, what was the point?

Feeling tired, she turned away from the window and went into the hallway to put on her coat. She still needed one or two small items. After all, she wouldn't be able to quickly pop to the store over the holidays to buy anything she had forgotten. It wasn't far, and a little exercise would do her good. Determined, she withdrew her hand, which was already reaching for the car keys, and left the house.

As she passed by, she greeted her neighbour, who was walking home with his elderly dog. He was a widower, or so she thought she had heard. He was a quiet man who never stood out in any way and was always polite. As usual, he lifted his cap and returned her greeting. As usual, she petted the dog briefly before continuing on her way.

Half an hour later, when she was standing in front of her front door again, searching for the keys in her shopping bag, she heard someone clear their throat behind her. Startled, she spun around and almost bumped into a rather fat old man dressed in a Santa Claus costume. 'Oh no, not another one rattling his collection box', she thought, but nevertheless fumbled for her purse.

'I wish you a wonderful evening, young lady', said the old man in a deep, pleasant voice that came from behind his white beard. It looked quite real, by the way – almost as if it had grown there. 'What do you want a donation for?', she asked. 'I don't have much time.' He answered with a loud laugh, which made her think she might be dealing with a madman. 'I don't want anything from you. Quite the contrary, my dear. I'm bringing you your Christmas present.'

This customer-catching was getting more and more brazen, which was unacceptable. She therefore said, coolly and with raised eyebrows, to the jolly, red-cheeked Santa Claus substitute: 'Sure, and Santa Claus makes visits to elderly women. Just to give them gifts, completely selflessly, because he has time for exactly that kind of thing.' The old man tilted his head and looked at her mischievously over his rimless, nickel-framed glasses.

'I gave up that job, young lady. There's no need for it anymore. It's much easier for people to fill out an order form or buy something online these days. The children haven't been waiting for my visits for a long time, and the whole business has changed a lot, if I may say so. But doing nothing is not for me, my dear, so I still do some work on the side – volunteer work, so to speak. I enjoy it, and I can finally give out the gifts I want to.' With these words, the old man dressed in red rummaged through a sack that looked quite empty, which the woman had only just noticed.

She should have slammed the door in this guy's face, but he had made her curious. 'Aha! Brewer, Frank. Does that name mean anything to you?' The man's gloved hand emerged from the sack with a piece of paper, and he read the name aloud.

'My neighbour from next door', she replied in surprise. 'What about him?'

'What's wrong with him? Well, he wanted the same thing you wanted for Christmas. He doesn't want to spend the holidays alone. He has no one left but his dog and he's dreading tomorrow. Just like you.' These last words sounded downright mischievous. Then he brought his face close to hers, and she noticed that his white beard was real. 'You have everything you need for a really nice Christmas dinner at home, don't you?', he said. 'Why don't you ring his doorbell? He'll be happy.'

At that moment, the light in Mr Brewer's window came on, and she stared over, fascinated. 'Yes, why not?', she thought. But when she turned around, there was no one standing next to her. There was no man in a Santa Claus costume with a beard and a sack of gifts. The volunteer had simply disappeared.

The woman stared at the spot where he had been standing seconds before, then put down her bag and went to the door of the neighbour's house to timidly ring the bell.

Half an hour later, when she turned on the star lights, she was still smiling at the obvious joy Mr Brewer had shown. He had been nice, but also embarrassed. However, he said he would come 'gladly, very gladly', and he smiled as he said it. As she wondered why she hadn't thought to invite him herself, she noticed that it was snowing heavily.

© 'The man with the voluntary work': A marvellous Christmas story by Pressenet (translated by Izabel Comati), 10/2025. The image shows an Advent calendar by Andrea Schaufler, CC0 (Public Domain Licence).