“I look ridiculous.”
“No you don’t, you look adorable.”
“I’m not SUPPOSED to look adorable! I’m meant to command respect! Have customers follow my instructions! Scare little children and then win them over with a lollipop! This is just ridiculous. I’m going to change and I am not going out there like this.”
The Driver sighed and grabbed a hold of the Manager before he could walk back into the house to change.
“Oh no you don’t. You promised the Stationchief you’d help out for the Christmas party and so you shall.”
“Yes, but I thought she meant actually managing the blasted party. Like, telling everyone where to go and sit and handing out presents. Not THIS!?” the Manager said, still obviously torn between just going back into the house and hiding in bed or going with the Driver to the station.
“Just come along. You look fine, it’ll be all be alright and if it helps, I’m wearing the same thing so we can look ridiculous together. You said I looked adorable, so you must as well, right?”
The Manager’s shoulders sagged. He gave in to his Driver’s words and grabbed hold of his hand.
“Alright then. Let’s get this over with.”
And that is how the Driver managed to get one of his favourite photo’s of his Manager; in a puffy pair of trousers, with a striped shirt on, a floppy hat, pointy ears and a pair of red, pointed shoes with bells on the front. Trying desperately to frown a little girl who was watching him with adoration, but failing horribly. She had won him over about two seconds later, which led to another favourite picture of the Manager holding a 4-year-old on his hip and whispering in her ear about how they got Santa’s sleigh to actually fly using an old steamengine.