Shhhhh!

Scoop here, on the job after a long and chilly flight to the North Pole, trying to deliver the story of the Christmas season that no one knows about.

I’m here with Bernard, chief elf of Santa Claus, speaking softly while slowly defrosting my wings.

Bernard insisted on a secret venue for this conversation, an old shed about 50 yards behind Santa’s workshop, nestled among dozens of Christmas trees.

And with no heat.

SCOOP: OK, Bernard, why are we back here by ourselves?

BERNARD: I don’t want anybody to know about this.

SCOOP: About what?

BERNARD: We elves want to unionize.

SCOOP: You’re kidding.

BERNARD: You work in that shop 24/7, around the calendar, no chance for growth or advancement, physically or professionally, and tell me I’m kidding ...

SCOOP: OK, OK. It’s just that you guys are so cute.

BERNARD: And grossly overworked. Did you know we don’t get paid at all?

SCOOP: That’s not right. Have you voiced your complaints?

BERNARD: No chance. Mrs. Claus is 1,135 years old. Management’s not going to change.

SCOOP: What if you marched into the office and demanded to be heard?

BERNARD: Yeah, right. A bunch of little green and red guys and gals, with pointy ears wearing pointy hats, with names like Bing and Bling, Figgy and Frost, Topper and Twinkle ... Would you take us seriously?

SCOOP: I see your point. Oops, no pun intended.

BERNARD: No offense taken. But watch it.

SCOOP: Right. But you elves have been faithfully on the job for more than a thousand years. Why change now?

BERNARD: It’s the toys kids are asking for now. It’s just not normal. Smart phones — did phones used to be dumb or something? Video games. Computers. All of this electronic crap.

I have to put hundreds of elves on the job just to produce a handful of that stuff.

SCOOP: And that’s different how?

BERNARD: Come on, birdbrain! Think back. One elf could put red yarn on a doll’s head to complete Raggedy Ann. We zap a ball with our powers and presto! We have a Super Ball.

Throw a bunch of little plastic rods inside a tube and we have Pick Up Sticks. Any elf with next to no experience could make a Gumby or a Slinky.

Tie a rope to a couple pieces of circular wood, you got a yo-yo. Mr. Potato Head, Play-Dough, car bingo, that stuff was easy, man!

SCOOP: I see how times have changed.

BERNARD: First time we made a doll wet itself, I knew we were headed down the wrong path. Should have stopped it then.

SCOOP: So what makes you think you will succeed in forming a union?

BERNARD: I discovered that 85 percent of the working people in Iceland are unionized. If it can happen in Iceland, it can happen here.

SCOOP: What’s your next move?

BERNARD: I’ve been seeking advice. I’ve tried talking to high-ranking officials in the AFL-CIO, United Steel Workers, the National Labor Relations Board.

SCOOP: Any luck?

BERNARD: Nah. Same thing happens every time. As soon as I show myself and ask a question, I get the same response — Honey, wake me up! You won’t believe the dream I’m having!

Then, after I get them to listen to our plight, they’re afraid to offer any support.

SCOOP:Afraid?

Would you risk ticking off Santa? These labor bigwigs don’t want to move from the nice list to naughty.

It’s so frustrating.

SCOOP: I feel your pain.

BERNARD: You will. Your nose could challenge Rudolph’s right now and your wings are frozen solid.

SCOOP: My chances of getting out of here are hopeless!

BERNARD: Welcome to my world.