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Nathan VanderKlippe
Northern News Services
"The working class can kiss my ass I've got the foreman's job at last," bellowed the motley crew of Outcrop Communications employees.
Grovelling for the judges' favour, they strutted their unshaven chins, pig-tailed hair and animal-skin parkas.
And they sang.
As the rough music bumped across the mine and Inuit camp set up in the office, judges were busy filling their pockets.
In a scene that would have made French figure skating judges proud, the four judges trampled over conscience and lined their pockets with green bills.
Then there was the bottle slipped into Duane Melchert's pocket, an amber liquid swilling inside. Melchert, one of the judges, responded with gleaming eyes.
Shawna Tohm, an administrative assistant at Outcrop, was the gal who delivered the bottle.
"That bottle was firewater, and that was strictly for medicinal purposes," she said.
"We were worried about one of the judges. We wanted to make sure he kept his spirits up."
Outcrop was awarded the fur hat, making them the judge's favourites -- the top prize in the contest. Six business competed in total: Canarctic Graphics was awarded "support the britches" for best participation; the trap door for best costume went to Yellowknife Education District number 1; the old boot for best display went to First Air; the old tin cup, for the best brew of coffee or tea, went to the Royal Bank.
No surprise on the last one, given that judges' mugs wafted the aroma of a coffee brewed with a little, shall we say, flourish.
Judge Karen Poitras categorically denied the bribes influenced decision-making.
"No, no. Those are sort of inconsequential," said Poitras.
"In the end, she added, judges were wooed by the untrained Outcrop chorus, who ended their rollicking tune just like they began it:
"The working class can kiss my ass I've got the foreman's job at last."
