Page 4 of Polar Prank
The image of Brinker, the quintessential stuffed-shirt corporate tightwad, clad in an ugly Christmas sweater is downright hilarious. I picture him, normally a defender of seriousness, striding through the office with his perfectly pressed suit and a posture as stiff as a board, transformed as he wears a bright red sweater decorated with frolicking reindeer, garish snowflakes, and maybe even a jaunty little Santa hat perched precariously atop his head, and I giggle to myself.
As he reluctantly agrees to join in the festivities, I can see an internal struggle playing out on his face. That faint twinkle in his eye hints at an irrepressible spark of holiday spirit, despite his gruff exterior. It’s almost as if the static electricity from that handshake has sent a jolt of something new through him, infusing the air around him with a hint of mirth.
Mirth is a happy thing, right? Maybe it is less mirthy and more plain tolerance.
As the office fills with the trimmings of the holiday season, swirling garlands and twinkling lights, it would be a sight to behold him in anything but business attire. Brinker, the label-obsessed, no-nonsense executive, blushing under the bright patterns of his sweater, valiantly trying to keep up his grumpy smokescreen while everyone around him bursts into laughter. Perhaps, beneath his tough exterior, he’s not immune to the charm of the holidays, and maybe he’ll learn to embrace the joy.
One hideously festive sweater at a time.
“We’ll see about that!” I dance away, laughter bubbling in my throat.
The man feigns indifference, but I also know the holidays have a way of softening even the hardest of hearts.
As I continue down the hall to my desk, excitement thrums beneath my skin. This is just the start of my jolly spirit invasion. I sense a rush of glee as I imagine how we’ll all come together for the children, and I know deep down that I’ve already won this round against Brinker.
After all, Christmas is about spreading joy, and no amount of cynicism can dim that bright, twinkling light.
3
BRINKER
Iclyn’s laughterrings out from the breakroom, a sound that bounces off the walls and finds its way straight to my ears like a persistent mosquito. I adjust the stack of reports in front of me, trying to block out the festive chaos.
“Brinker, I was thinking—” Iclyn pops her head around the corner, her trademark smile soaking up all the light in the room. “What if we did something fun this week? You know, to get everyone into the holiday spirit?”
I look up, my brows knitted tightly together. “Fun? This isn’t summer camp, Iclyn. We’ve got deadlines, clients who are demanding, and real work to focus on.”
She steps in fully, sitting in the chair across from me, leaning on my desk with an exaggerated pout that’s almost endearing if I’m being honest. “But Brinker, what if we could combine fun with productivity? A happy workplace is a productive workplace, right?”
I can’t help but smirk at her enthusiasm, but I shove the response down, pushing my reading glasses up on my nose like an old man scolding a child for running in the hall. “Right. Andwho’s going to be spreading holiday cheer while I’m trying to finish these reports?”
My sarcastic tone only sends her into a fit of giggles. “Well, definitely not you. You’re more like the Grinch with a heart three sizes too small.”
I wish she didn’t see me like that, but if that’s the truth, then I’ll own it.
It’s definitely the truth.
“Funny,” I say dryly. I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. “What’s your plan, then? A party? Baked goods? I’d prefer silence over holiday music, thank you very much. Hell, I’d prefer silence over anything.”
But Iclyn never gives up easily. Her blue eyes narrow in on me, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head. “I was thinking more along the lines of holiday pranks. Light-hearted ones, of course. Imagine the reaction if we filled the breakroom with snowflake balloons! Or put glitter in the office supplies?”
Glitter. How dare you! Definitely my mortal enemy.
I shudder at the thought. “That sounds like a nightmare, Iclyn.”
“Oh, come on. Just think about how much fun it could be. I mean, you’re a tough nut to crack, but maybe it’s your turn to experience a little holiday magic?”
Maybe it’s a little of Iclyn’s plain-out joy, but my walls begin to weaken. I quickly brace myself to not come off too happy about it all. Playing devil’s advocate is built into my DNA. Captain of the Debate squad, law degree at Harvard, Executive MBA at Oxford, and now owning my own business. I’m professional from head to my toes.
“And what makes you think I’d be okay with you and the rest of the team turning my workplace into some kind of holiday circus?”
“We’ll make it a team effort! Everyone's in on it. Tom from IT, Sarah in sales…” She leans in closer, her enthusiasm infectious. “All I need is your blessing to set the stage. What do you say? Let’s flip the script on grumpiness!”
I look into her determined eyes, watching her infectious spirit bubble over. Right now, she seems impossibly bright against my dreary office backdrop, and I momentarily find myself being drawn to that energy.
Not that I’ll ever admit it.
Plus, my grandmother’s request —demand— is still looming out there.
