Christmas is a time for sharing, a time for family.  Even the boss, you might be tempted to think, will be so wrapped up in the lovely glow of his own family, that he might actually leave you in peace for the day.  Personally the last thing on my mind on Christmas Day was worrying about whether I had got my tax return in before the end of the fiscal year. Obviously not the case with the Boss.

We had just demolished a turkey lunch. Grandma was planning tomorrow’s lunch with the leftovers.  Grandad was nodding off and I was sitting replete and slightly sloshed with port, when I caught the faint, distinctive bleat of a text on my phone.

Considering the majority of my nearest and dearest were sitting around me, full of turkey and cranberry sauce, I couldn’t imagine who it could be. So I ignored it.  Besides I was so full, just the thought of getting up to rummage for the phone was exhausting and besides, the obligatory Christmas repeat of The Sound of Music was about to start.

A few minutes passed and the phone bleated again.  It was Santa Claus, I decided, checking how my Christmas was going and that I loved the presents he had left.  Of course it wasn’t ….you’ve had way too much sherry if you believe that!  Unfortunately it was his grumpier, ever-complaining and little known relative “Ranta” Claus, aka the Boss.

I wasn’t fretting over my tax return, but boy oh boy!  He was! He was all of a panic realising he had left the country without submitting his end of year tax return to the accountants and faced a hefty fine if he missed the Dec 31st deadline.

Full of Christmas Spirit – not to mention lashings of port and some rather tasty Chateau Neuf du Pape – my immediate reaction was “Oh shame!”  I mean what on earth did he expect me to do on Christmas Day?  It was a bit late to write a letter to Santa with his wish list now (although he probably thought I could look Santa up on The PA Club website, ask him to get the reindeer out and go deliver his tax return by hand!  Oh come on…. get a grip even I know Santa doesn’t work on Christmas Day!)

However my sense of duty overruled my alcohol intake and I loyally texted back, “You OK?” I even followed it with a snowman emoji to make it festive!

That was obviously the wrong thing to do.  I should have ignored him and played at being unobtainable – but there is something in my PA DNA that just won’t allow me to do that.   Result: a flood of emails asking me to send him a copy of the document from the electronic folder which I had access to, but he couldn’t find (as always).

Now, he was in some super swanky far-flung place overseas, but the WiFi service was a little flaky (it was a place geared to leisure and not business), everything a little bit “manyana” and nothing urgent. Until now of course.  But somehow Boss just couldn’t get the hotel staff to understand the meaning of “right now”.  So what did he do: he turned to me and my PA DNA.

I managed to locate the file on my iPad and dutifully forwarded it to panicky Boss thinking I’d got off pretty lightly, all things considered. How wrong could I be?  It was either his WiFi or mine or perhaps a mixture of the two.  Or perhaps the file was too big. Whatever the reason, it simply wouldn’t send.

Boss texted again: “Where is my file?”
Perfect PA: “I’ve just sent it”

After  three more attempts it dawned on him that this wasn’t going to work.  (It had dawned on me much earlier even with half a bottle of port swirling round my intestines.)

“You need to fax it to me at the hotel.” Not a request, not a suggestion – a demand.  I had a home fax (he knew that) but my machine was extremely temperamental and wasn’t playing ball – a carrier pigeon would have been quicker.  So after not receiving at his end, he resorted to calling to speak to me.

“You have to find some way to send this through to me – urgently”, he barked.  I need to mark up the document for signature so I can get it delivered by 31st December”

“Good luck with that” I thought. “I’ve heard of Miracle on 34th Street but that’s a movie and he certainly was in need of a Christmas miracle himself.”

Somehow, somewhere along the line (I blame the port) I must have let slip that my neighbour has a home office with a fax.  Before I knew it, I was texting my neighbour to ask if I could quickly pop round to his as I was in a bit of a pickle. If only it was that easy….

Three failed attempts later and I’m feeling that I’ve long over-stayed my welcome.  Neighbour kindly suggested that I leave the document I had printed off, with him and that he’d keep it on redial. I thanked him profusely and left.

Now – let’s summarise. Boss is abroad and totally at the mercy of my dutiful, good and loyal nature to help him in a time of costly crisis. I, in return, am requesting a massive favour of my lovely neighbour.  And on top of all that – it is Christmas Day!!!!  Why is it that I am getting a very distinct feeling from Boss that this is ALL MY FAULT?

The irritating ping ping ping of my phone reminds me the Boss is obviously not getting the whole Spirit of Christmas thing where he is and therefore doesn’t give a damn that he is ruining my day and now, that of my neighbour.

“Still not got the fax – have you sent it?” The message demands.
“I’ve given it to my neighbour – he’s sending it” I respond.
A short pause
“Well, has he done it?” he comes back
“He says he’s doing it”
“Go and check!”
“He’s having his Christmas lunch!”

I don’t know to this day why I complied.  Boss was being a total bully and I guess I was totally wrapped up in keeping my job.  I texted my neighbour twice and on the third occasion found myself standing at his door with an unopened bottle of port from my personal stock (Boss could pay me back later, but if The Three Kings arrived bearing gifts, then that was the least I could do for my poor harassed neighbour).

“Ummm – did the fax go?” I asked anxiously.  A flash of irritation crossed his face but then he softened a smidge as he knew the turmoil my Boss was creating for me. He sighed, opened the door and let me in. He grabbed the paper off his fax machine: it had,at last, gone through.

I texted boss immediately – “Have you got it?”
“Yes” came the response.
“Merry Christmas” I responded. Luckily texts carry no emotion as mine was written very much with gritted teeth.

I wonder if Father Christmas brought him what he wished for?  I guess we’ll never know if he made it off the naughty list. I secretly hoped he hadn’t.