In 1984, Philip Graham recounted his stint as a 23-year old department store Santa:
There were three basic types of children who came to visit. The very small ones, who were too young to understand who Santa was, looked at me with distrust, needing a push from a parent or teacher to approach me. Once on my lap they would have little to say, and sometimes they’d scream in terror at the sight of this outlandishly dressed, ancient man. Others immediately established themselves on my lap: children who looked upon me as the true Santa, though of course when pressed I would say that I was merely a Santa’s helper. It was a pleasure to hold these children and watch their faces, nervous and happy all at once. … Finally, there were older children who were still young enough to sit on my lap, but who were too old to believe in Santa. They would smile at me smugly, as if we shared a secret. and there was boredom in their voices when they recited their wish list, for they knew that my power over what they might receive was a fiction. I grew wary of these children, for they were the ones capable of pulling Santa’s beard. Sometimes I would lightly lock my arms around such a child, at the same time swaying in order to disguise the gentle restraint.
The Dish 