Frederick Whitmore the Third was no Scrooge. He was worse. While Scrooge earned his money, Frederick inherited his from his father, and with it, his father’s legacy—Whitmore Industries.
His father loved Whitmore and the people that worked there, and the community loved him equally in return. He was by far the community’s largest employer and philanthropist. The school, the town common, the medical center, and the library all owed their origins to the Whitmore family. Three years ago, when Frederick Whitmore Jr. had succumb to a major heart attack, the community mourned for days. Now, Frederick the Third controlled the family business, and he was in it for one thing—the profit.
The Christmas bonuses were scrapped right away, followed by full health and dental coverage. Matching IRA contributions were also abolished. Next came the jobs. Most manufacturing jobs were sent to China. Customer service jobs to India. The fraction of employees remaining were denied increases. The community was devastated, but Whitmore Industries had never been more profitable.
It was late in the evening on December 22nd when Frederick left his office. The roads were covered with a thin dusting of snow as he sped home in his Mercedes Benz. He was starving and looking forward to a nice dinner at his favorite restaurant, Giovanni’s. Traffic was backed up, so he used his navigation system to take him through the back roads. It was a bad decision. The road was dark and winding, with only a few small houses spotting the landscape. No plow or sander had yet come by. Frederick tapped the brakes to slow down, but it was too late. His car quickly skidded out of control, taking him down an embankment. As the car struck a tree, Frederick thought to himself, “this is surely the end.” He was not a religious man, but he suddenly found himself praying for God to save him.”
Miraculously, the front of the car took much of the impact and Frederick was able to emerge with only minor abrasions to his face. His cell phone was not as lucky. He was isolated. Grabbing a flashlight from his console, he made his way back up the embankment to signal for help. It took about 20 minutes, but a run-down Subaru finally pulled over.
The man rolled down his window. “You need a hand?” he asked.
“Yes please,” replied Frederick. “Do you mind if I use your phone to call AAA.”
“No problem Buddy. Hop in.”
Frederick made the call. A tow truck would be there in twenty minutes. The cops were also on the way to survey the damage.
Frederick was relieved. “Thanks a bunch..um”
“Name’s John,” he replied. “I’m in no rush. Why don’t you hang in here for a bit and stay warm until help arrives.”
Frederick took the samaritan up on his offer and the two made small talk for the next ten minutes. “I see you have a few Barbies in the back,” said Frederick. “Picking up a few extra gifts for the kids?”
“I wish they were extra gifts,” replied John. “Afraid that’s it this year—just not in the budget. Things have been rough since I lost my job.”
“That’s too bad,” replied Frederick. “Where did you work?”
“Whitmore Industries,” he explained. “Was there twenty-five years and then I get the pink slip. No meeting, no explanation. Oh well, the past is the past.”
Frederick felt ashamed. “Hold on a minute,” he said as he jumped out of the car and ran back down the embankment. When he returned he has two American Girl dolls in his hands. He handed them to John.
“Take these,” he said. “I bought these for my nieces but I’m not going to see them until New Years, so I’ll just go back to the store.”
John was shocked. “I can’t sir. That’s way too much.”
“I insist,” he replied. “For your daughter’s sake, please take them. I’d feel better if you did.”
John accepted. Soon the cops arrived followed by the tow truck. The two men thanked each other and John went on his way. An hour later and Frederick was sitting in the passenger’s seat of the tow truck. Once again he found himself making small talk with the driver. His name was Chuck. He owned his own repair shop in town.
“Thanks for coming out so late to pick me up,” said Frederick. “Whatever the repair bill is, just go ahead and bill me. You have my permission.”
“Thanks Man,” replied Chuck. “But we can take your car to whatever shop you want. I don’t own the truck. I just work for the tow company.”
“Oh sorry,” responded Frederick. “I thought you said you ran your own repair shop.”
“I do,” replied Chuck. “I presently have two jobs. I work days at the shop and then 4 nights a week for the tow company—I’m on until midnight.”
Frederick was astounded. “That’s awful. When do you sleep?”
“Gotta pay the bills,” replied Chuck. “I’m self employed and my wife’s health benefits just got cut drastically. Son’s got diabetes, so we need the insurance to cover his insulin. Turns out I can get better health coverage working for the tow company. Who would have thought that the tow company would give better rates to a Part Timer than Whitmore does to a full timer. So where should I drop you off and where should I bring your car?”
For the second time that night Frederick felt ashamed. “If you think you can fix it, take it to your shop. I don’t care what it costs. As for me, can you drop me off at Giovanni’s?”
After a tiresome and emotional night, all Frederick wanted to do was sit down to a nice dinner at Giovannni’s. A new waitress took his order. She was a middle-aged woman named Georgia.
“Would you like to hear the specials?” she asked.
“No Thank you,” he replied. “I’ve been coming here for forty years. Best Veal Parm in the county—maybe even the State.”
“Yes it is,” she replied. “I’ve only been working here a few months—since Whitmore laid me off, but I’ve tried most of the menu and I must say it is the best I’ve ever had. It’s just a shame we won’t be serving it much longer.”
Frederick was confused. “What do you mean? Are they changing the menu?”
“I wish that was all,” explained Georgia. “We’re closing after New Years.”
Frederick gasped. “You can’t. I’ve been coming here with my Dad since I was eight. This is where my wife and I had our first date. This place is a big part of my life.”
“Afraid that’s the case,” she replied. “Business has been slow since all the downsizing at Whitmore. People in the community are just scraping by. They don’t have the money to be going to dinner. Unfortunately the future doesn’t look too bright round here unless things change.”
“Change.” The word resonated in his head. Parents unable to provide for their children. People working 70 hours. Local businesses closing. A community falling apart. Suddenly the bottom line did not seem so important. Things had to change, and all fingers were pointing at him.
Earlier that evening Frederick had prayed for a Christmas Miracle. He prayed that God would save him. Suddenly he realized that God had saved him in more ways than one. Something changed in Frederick that night. Christmas bonuses were reinstated two days later, and larger than they had ever been. Even those employees that had been laid off received checks in the mail. The next year Whitmore added 200 more jobs in the community, and health insurance was once again affordable. And as for Giovanni’s—at the request of its richest patron it remained open and once again became prosperous.
The next Christmas the community was once again full of life, as the occasion not only signified the birth of the Lord, but the rebirth of the community. And despite his initial poor decisions, the community eventually embraced Frederick the Third. As for Frederick, he had learned a valuable lesson of humility that Night. Now every Christmas presented him with a valuable reminder that it’s never too late to change your ways, and that goodwill—not profit is the greatest path to happiness, and the true spirit of Christmas.