Judgment Day : Yes, Virginia, time <i> is</i> running out for you to do your Christmas shopping. But take heart: The task is not impossible.

Christmas Eve at the mall and the tension is so thick you can cut it with a Ginsu knife.

A man dashes by with an armful of Isotoner gloves, all of them beige because that’s the only color left on the shelves. A woman rushes in and, despite every refinement she may possess, utters a whoop of joy to find one last Salad Shooter in the housewares department.

It’s a war of nerves, this last-minute shopping.

“It’s just terrible,” says Beverly Freeman, a Hollywood businesswoman who annually finds herself among the wretched and panicked. “I want to get the very best present, but it ends up being whatever I bump into.”

Meanwhile, Andrew Loftus swims the roiled waters with a shark’s calm.

“The pressure . . . it drives me,” the Redondo Beach food broker says. “I’ve got a quick eye and I’m not afraid to make the quick decisions.”

So it is that last-minute shoppers find themselves convening each year, some by choice and others by tragic weakness. Today is their judgment day. They meet in a maelstrom that would be comical if it weren’t so potentially terrifying.

To those with nerves as steely as a Swiss Army knife, we pay homage. For those who jitter down the aisles like Sugar Plum Fairies, we offer a choice of battle plans. And anyone who has circled the same patch of blacktop for an hour knows that the battle begins in the trenches--the parking lot.

“Come early,” says Don Trefry, general manager at the Beverly Center.

At most malls, the parking structure fills up before noon. Mall administrators suggest heading for the top level, or the farthest point of the lot, to find empty spaces. And if you’re parking on the street in front of a shop, don’t even think of creating your own space. Parking enforcement officers prowl during the holidays.

Having cleared this first obstacle, you may want to consider Loftus’ suggestion: “A couple libations,” he says, “to loosen up the thought process.”

Imprudent, perhaps. But the traditional method of late shopping--that mindless scramble through store after store--requires a relaxing of standards. It’s a fact: Many of the shelves are picked over by the time latecomers arrive.

“Especially with kids’ toys, all the popular things go quickly,” says Melanie Farber, who runs a personal shopping service called At Your Service in Camarillo. “You’re limited in what you can get.”

But laggards can’t be choosers. And barren shelves mean fewer choices to ponder.

“I get terribly practical,” Freeman says. “Clothes for the kids. Garden tools for the men.”

A little planning helps, shopping experts suggest. A simple list of names and possible gifts, a map by which to navigate the madness.

“On Christmas Eve, there are thousands of people in the store,” says John Nishanian, who manages a Mervyn’s in West Covina. “Everyone’s running around, picking things up. They start growing fangs. And it’s so chaotic, they know that they’re not going to get a salesperson to help them.”

Mervyn’s provides some guidance: tables stocked with pre-wrapped gifts. The $5, $10 and $20 tables display everything from costume jewelry to candy. Such handy offerings are also common in department stores.

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The truly wretched and lost, though, may require professional help. Try this: Pick out a well-dressed and friendly looking clerk and present a gift list with the plea: “I am but a pawn in the Christmas rush. Lead me to salvation.”

Some stores, such as Neiman Marcus in Beverly Hills, provide specialists who, at no extra cost, will lead the truly bewildered by the hand.

“Usually the shopper brings a list and we take them through the store,” says Don Gray, one of Neiman Marcus’ personal shoppers. “I try to get some information about who the gift is for. What is the person like? Do they have any hobbies? I have to be practically clairvoyant.”

The stores that provide these services tend to be pricey. Here is another fact: If you are still shopping on Christmas Eve, you must pay for your sins. And the purchase price is just the beginning.

If you need to send the gift, the U.S. Postal Service is the only major carrier that does special deliveries on Christmas Day. Get the package to them by closing time--5:30 p.m. at most branches--on the 24th and they promise it will reach Uncle Fred’s doorstep before the turkey gets carved.

Last Christmas, Los Angeles mail carriers delivered more than 9,000 such packages. This service costs no more than regular express delivery. But Christmas Day deliveries are available only to major U.S. cities.

“If you’re sending a gift to the Havasupai Indians at the bottom of the Grand Canyon,” says David Mazur, a postal service spokesman, “we probably won’t have it there in time.”

One way around the hassle of malls and mailing is to shop from the safety of your home. People with a taste for ceramic figurines and cubic zirconium are out of luck, though, because television shopping services like QVC and the Home Shopping Network insist that customers order by mid-December--which might as well be August, as far as the late shopper is concerned.

You can hire a professional shopper like Farber to do everything for you--usually for an hourly charge or a percentage of the total bill. Catalogues also fill the breach. J. Crew will, for a price of $20 per gift, take orders on its array of T-shirts, sweaters and pants and have them delivered Christmas Day.

“We receive calls right up until noon on the 24th, which is our cut-off time,” said Colleen Carl, director of telemarketing for the Virginia-based clothier.

And the catalogue folks will handle the wrapping. For when the buying is done and the credit card, still warm, lies safely tucked away, the rush is by no means over. Next comes the sticky, crinkly mess of tape and tissue, which can shake even a brazen procrastinator.

“I come home on Christmas Eve and I’ve got two hours to get all the presents wrapped,” Loftus says. “At that point, I get nervous.”

Freeman knows all about last-second wrapping. She wistfully recalls a Christmas, many years ago, when she had all her presents bought and wrapped by August.

“I said, ‘This is the way it’s going to be from now on,’ ” she recalls.

A few years later, she found herself wrapping the last of her children’s gifts at 4 a.m. on Christmas morning.

“They got up at 6 and undid everything in about five minutes.”