It’s Christmas Eve, and one of my flakey, lazy coworkers comes over to me.

Coworker: “Yo, can you work my shift tomorrow?”

Me: “Christmas Day? Hard pass.”

Coworker: “But it’s not like you even celebrate Christmas!”

Me: “Huh? What makes you think I don’t celebrate Christmas?”

Coworker: “Aren’t you Muslim?”

Me: “Uh…no? But even if I was, Christmas isn’t all that religious these days anyway.”

Coworker: “Oh… but you look Muslim!”

Me: “Pray tell, [Coworker], what does a Muslim look like?”

Coworker: “Like… brown?”

Me: “That’s a tan, you idiot, and I’m Filipino!”

Coworker: “Oh… Do Filipinos celebrate Christmas?”

Me: “Dude… It’s like one of the most Catholic countries in the world.”

Coworker: “Oh… so about tomorrow’s shift?”

Me: “Are you Christian?”

Coworker: “…uh, sure.”

Me: “Awesome! I’ll see you at the midnight mass at [local church] tonight, then?”

Coworker: “…whatever.”

[Coworker] moves on to trying to get someone else to take his Christmas Day shift.

I’m Filipino, but a suuuuper lapsed Catholic, so I gladly stay home with family that night and sleep in the next morning. My boss calls me asking if I would come in to cover [Coworker], who, shockingly, did not show up for their shift. I gracefully declined, and when I went back to work on the 26^th, I was told that [Coworker] had been fired for too many no-shows.

My grandfather and I were returning from a long trip. It was Christmas night, we had not eaten very much at the Christmas church service we were returning from, and Grandpa had an unused $20 gift card for [Popular Pizza Chain], so we decided to stop at that chain for something to eat.

I scratched off the gift card and entered the small store. I’d never been inside a [Chain] before and didn’t know what they usually sold, so it took me a moment to inspect the menu. The store was empty except for two scruffy-looking, strong, tattooed young men behind the counter. One was bald, and the other wore long dreadlocks. Being a young woman alone in the building with them, I was admittedly somewhat nervous initially.

The scruffier employee, perhaps seeing my hesitation, greeted me.

Employee: “Hi. Have you ever been in a [Chain] before?”

Me: “Oh, hi. Nope, never, but I was always curious. Do you guys sell sandwiches at all?”

He smiled at my stupid question but he answered my question instead of laughing at me.

Employee: “Really, never? No, we don’t sell sandwiches, but I can make you a couple of [pizza ‘quesadillas’], folded pizza crusts stuffed with whatever you want.”

I ordered a cheesesteak “quesadilla” for Grandpa and a custom “quesadilla” stuffed with turkey, BBQ sauce, spinach, and Swiss cheese for myself. As the less scruffy employee went to make them for me, the first employee made small talk.

Employee: “You look like you’re dressed up for church.”

I was wearing a modest dress, black dress shoes, and a 1940s-style cloche hat.

Me: “Yep, my grandfather wanted to go to a Christmas service with his family a couple of hours away. I’m Christian, but I don’t really celebrate Christmas. I went for him, though. Do you guys usually work through the holidays?”

Employee: “I’m Muslim; I don’t celebrate Christmas, either. We work through every holiday.”

He then started getting into a deep discussion on common morals versus religion, the moral obligations of man, how television corrupts both religion and morals, etc. I admit, it was an interesting conversation, and we actually agreed on several points. It turned out that he was quite the philosopher. By the time the food was done, we both had a decent amount of respect for each other’s viewpoints.

When I went to check out, the gift card wouldn’t scan. It turns out their scanner was broken.

Employee: “You know what? They’re on the house. It was really nice talking to somebody so polite with a head on their shoulders, and it’s off-hours. Just enjoy them.”

I thanked them both and left a big tip, waving and wishing them well as I left. The “quesadillas” were fantastic, and I will definitely be returning to that place.

It’s the Christmas season, and the office is winding down before taking a few days off over the holidays. We have one religious coworker who is adamant that no one forgets why it’s called Christ-mas.

Religious Coworker: “How many here are going to a midnight mass on Christmas Eve?”

No one answers.

Religious Coworker: “Not one of you?! Oh, come on, they’re beautiful reminders about the real reason we all celebrate this time of year! It’s the first five letters of Christmas that make it important!”

Other Coworker: “Five? So, it’s all about Chris?”

Religious Coworker: “What? Wait…”

She starts counting out the letters, but it’s already too late.

Manager: “Oh, Chris! I love that guy! In that case, I’ll come along.”

Me: “Are you sure? I heard Chris can get pretty wild after midnight.”

Other Coworker: “Typical Chris.”

Religious Coworker: “Ha… ha… very funny.”

Other Coworker: “Hey, don’t mock Chris. He’s cool!”

A few days later, on Christmas Eve, we put a banner up in the office saying: “Merry Chrismas!” [Religious Coworker] laughed and groaned in equal measure, but then [Manager] brought in some home-made German holiday cookies, and fun was had by all.

It’s mid-December. I’m setting my items on the belt. The clerk starts scanning them.

Clerk: “Happy holidays!”

Me: “Thank you!”

Woman Behind Me: “That’s ‘Merry Christmas!'”

Man Behind Her: *Instantly.* “WRONG! It’s ‘Happy Hanukkah!'”

Woman Behind Me: “Did you just say I was wrong?”

Woman Third in Line: “You ARE wrong! And so is he! It’s ‘Happy Kwanzaa!'”

Man Fourth in Line: “All of you are nuts! Everyone knows it’s ‘Happy Saturnalia!'”

I can see this isn’t going to end well, so I intervene.

Me: “And this is why the clerks say, ‘Happy holidays!'”

Related:
Tis The Season For Unreason, Part 11
Tis The Season For Unreason, Part 10
Tis The Season For Unreason, Part 9
Tis The Season For Unreason, Part 8
Tis The Season For Unreason, Part 7

We’re watching a movie that’s a remake of an old classic. One of the characters who was played by a White actor in the original is now portrayed by a Black actor.

Mom: “Ugh! Why do they gotta do that every time?”

Me: “Do what?”

Mom: “Always changing the race of the character! We don’t need everyone to be Black in these shows anymore!”

Me: “They’re a fictional character. They can be any color they want.”

Mom: “Well, they should keep to the original!”

Me: “Mom, every night I see you kiss and pray to the image of a Middle Eastern Jew who is somehow a blond man with blue eyes. Maybe sit this one out, yeah?”