His Day Job is Claims. His Real Job is Claus.
Meet Bill Parker. VP of Claims at Conestoga Title. Warm eyes. Real white beard. The kind of guy who makes you instinctively check if you’ve been naughty or nice before you shake his hand. Spend five minutes with him and you start to wonder if the whole title business is just a clever front for his off-season gig.
Parker has been a self-described “country lawyer” for decades, the kind who could search a title chain before he even passed the bar. But his side gig, the one that started as a volunteer shift with a scratchy synthetic beard, has become something bigger. He doesn’t just play Santa Claus; he’s built an entire philosophy around it. The lessons he’s learned at the closing table and in the claims department are the same ones he carries in the red suit.
It’s not a costume. It’s a calling.
Parker’s day job started in the land records of the Pocono Mountains, where his love of history turned every title search into a detective story. After law school, he became the kind of lawyer who once took farm animals as payment. (Yes, really. Title pros: try expensing “goat” under office supplies.) Real estate made up more than 60% of his practice, which meant he had a front-row seat to both the housing boom and the spectacular implosion that followed in 2008.
Meanwhile, his Santa story was picking up momentum. It began as a charity gig; one more volunteer in a fake beard raising money for local kids. But then his son sent him a Facebook post: “There’s a national shortage of Santas.”
The timing was perfect. Parker’s beard had gone from “distinguished lawyer” to “authentic Kris Kringle.” He answered the call. And in doing so, he stumbled into a secret society. “I discovered this entire brotherhood of Santas and Mrs. Clauses,” he recalls. Not just mall photo-ops, but a full-blown subculture complete with conventions and, yes, a three-day Santa University.
Santa U isn’t a novelty. It’s Hogwarts with more felt. “I didn’t expect the level of passion and commitment,” Parker says. The coursework included American Sign Language, workshops on how to work with special needs children, and, of course, a masterclass in delivering a “Ho, ho, ho” that wouldn’t scare a toddler. “It just blew me away.”
For Parker, that’s when it clicked: being Santa wasn’t separate from his day job. It was the same work, just in a different suit.
Parker likes to joke that he’s just a guy with a beard and a law degree, but his approach to both Claus and claims reads like a leadership manifesto. A few highlights:
Show Up Prepared for Everyone. At Santa U, learning ASL wasn’t optional; it was radical inclusion. The lesson carries over. For an anxious policyholder, it’s a calm voice. For a child with sensory issues, it’s a gentler approach. Leadership starts with empathy.
Embody the Mission (Especially When It’s Hard). “We have to be joyful, even when you don’t feel like it,” Parker says. Whether it’s a tough claim or a child asking for the impossible, people take their cues from you. Energy is contagious — and sometimes joy is a discipline.
The Smallest Gesture Hits the Hardest. Forget grand gestures. Parker hands out small plastic coins that say: “I met Santa and I’m on the nice list.” Kids treat them like gold bars. In business, like in Christmas magic, the tiny moments stick.
Be the Real Deal (Or Don’t Bother). His ultimate test came from a skeptical little girl who confronted him: “Are you the real one?” Parker let her tug his beard. Her gasp was so loud it pulled in her sister. “You got to feel this! He is the real one!” That’s what authenticity looks like; no shortcuts, no faking.
Eventually the red suit comes off, but Parker doesn’t stop being Santa. His why is simple, and it runs deeper than the holiday spirit. “I’m adopted,” he shares quietly. “When I needed people to help me, they always somehow showed up. I just always want to be that guy who shows up for somebody else.”
That line explains everything: the lawyer who once took turkeys as payment, the executive who stayed despite finding a four-foot pile of untouched files, and the Santa who keeps coins in his pocket to make sure every kid gets a moment.
For Bill Parker, Santa isn’t a side hustle or a December-only persona. It’s the most visible expression of who he’s always been: the guy who shows up.