Customer Service in the Fairy Godmother Department

It’s not that Lane hates his job. He truly loves it, or so he’d insist. Sure, it’s a lot of work having to finalize each and every wishings-upon-a-star, aligning planetary configurations, and adjusting the cosmic threads of fate on ridiculously short timelines in a job that demands nothing but “happily ever after” results. And maybe it really does feel like people are just getting whinier every year. Still, Lane maintains, there ARE perks. Maybe just not materially, but in seeing a fairy tale come to its conclusion. “After all,” he’d add, “Who doesn’t like ending with ‘happily ever after’ even if it’s the hundredth time?”

And once upon a time, those words were what got him the job. He’s been in the Boss’s good graces ever since. He admits that things are getting rough, that the “sheer genius” of Lord Ozymandius Ozeranski’s mandated “Disposal of Godmothering Excesses” in the name of “putting the ‘super’ back into ‘supernatural’” are making a mess of things. He’s one of the last two workers at his district office. But Lane continues to say to the Boss that he really believes in what he does with the Bureau of Wishes and Miscellaneous Magic.

Now he’s on case number seven hundred and seventy-seven. A lucky sign, he hopes. He reads a client’s name that appears on his computer screen, “Count Edgar, Principality of the Lowland Coast.” This is the latest “Prince Charming” in a file bin of star wishers’ dossiers. Glancing at the summary report, Lane learns that Edgar is paired, by the sorcery of the Bureau’s new assistant called “Grawwk,” with another recent star wisher, a “Princess Aria, Daughter of King Triton.” Ah, a persistent star wisher.

Lane has seen Aria’s file many times. She has some complicated wishes, including a desire to lose her fins and become a fully bipedal and getting around an inconvenient little contract with a sea witch. A “happily ever after” match hasn’t come up since her first wish until now. Pairing a mermaid crown princess with a landlubber “Prince Charming” is no easy task.

Lane pauses to crack his knuckles and loosen the tightening in his fingers. He glances at the clock on the wall. It’s already one in the morning. He should have clocked off hours ago, but he wants to get through this one last case so he can at least have some semblance of a weekend. And so Lane sucks in his breath, downs the last of the cold coffee in his mug, and decides to continue.

“Second son of Prince Arturo III, likely closeted, hasn’t had ‘the talk’ with parents, D&D nerd, terrible at anything physical…Deathly afraid of any body of water bigger than a backyard koi pond? How the hell did he get paired with Aria?”

This isn’t the first mismatch. Back when magic still involved the odd eye of newt, there were occasional mistakes. Normally he’d just send it off over to the Corrective Witchery staff Fran, Maurice, and Vikram and then they’d run it by the District Four Deputy Fairy Godmothers Lana and Etsuko. That was before the layoffs, before the Boss adopted “the new magic,” the newfangled AI sorcery of Grawwk that the Wizards of the Silicone Tower sold her a year ago. Since then, the mistakes have been, in the words of his last coworker Tia, “Somewhere between ludicrous and insane.” And hence both of them are still at their cubicles at so late an hour.

Still, Lane decides to give Grawwk a go. Grawwk answers, “Yes, this match may look strange. But some studies prove that incompatible couples are better than compatible ones. Shall I link you to an article by Dr. Peter Jordanson on how pointless misery is a great learning experience?”

“Um, no thanks.”

Switching off Grawwk, Lane thinks that he should at least run this with Tia. There is just the matter of waiting for her not to be occupied.

“…Yes, uh-huh, um, yeah, midnight still is the cutoff point for every magical pumpkin-turned-stagecoach. Uh-huh. I hear what you’re saying, ma’am. I’m just telling you what’s in the terms and conditions.” Tia’s voice floats over the partition. Lane is always impressed at how well she could keep her I’m-already-dead-inside voice. She’s been doing this for too long. Twenty years, he recalls.

“And you have a good day, ma’am.”

An opening. Lane pops his head over the partition and asks, “Tia, do you have a moment?”

Tia looks over. She is surprised at the abrupt interruption in her usual workflow, but she’s not irritated. “You need something, Lane?” she asks.

“It’s the latest match that Grawwk came up with, it’s-”

“Dumb,” Tia confirms flatly. “Yeah, I know.”

“So should we bring it up to-”

“If it’s got Gertrude’s stamp, it’s final.”

“But-”

“Gertrude’s stamp.”

Lane is about to protest, but he then sucks in his lips in defeat. Indeed, the Boss never budges. The Boss, who Tia so casually called Gertrude, is not supposed to make any mistakes. Though Lane knows her just as “the Boss,” everyone else knows her as Sweet Pea Gertrude, a.k.a. “the Fairy Godmother.” As far as mortals are concerned, this is the very “Fairy Godmother” who made many a “happily ever after” possible from here to Far Far Away.

Tia quietly has nothing but contempt for her. “If only mortals knew that all the ‘Fairy Godmother’ does now is make a snap decision based on some bullshit from Grawwk because she is too busy pretending we still have a functioning department,” she says.

“It’s all about the metrics, huh?” Lane says dejectedly. It is true that the Boss never goes against Lord Oz, especially as she intends to build up her resume before moving onto other things.

“We still have to hit that magic one thousand. Only way the Powers that Be will ever admit they’re wrong is if it all blows up in their faces.”

“I know, I know, ‘FAFO,’” Lane mutters.

“It is what it is.”

Lane marvels at how Tia carries on despite every new initiative for the sake of “optimal efficiency.”

“‘Reimagining,’” Tia promptly corrects Lane, “‘Reimagining the business of miracles.’”

Lane scoffs, “Of course.” Like Tia, he’s growing weary. But he’s still grateful that the Boss spoke for him. Hell, even Santa Claus ran afoul of the “Disposal of Godmothering Expenses” Act when he refused to force the Ghosts of Christmas into early retirement. And what’s replacing Santa? Something the mortals call “Tea-Moo.” Cheaper, streamlined, and powered by thousands of underpaid workers more inclined to wish upon a star to get out of their own little hell. It’s a winning self-sustaining strategy, Lord Oz always claims. And it’s probably why Lane still has his job.

Tia, tired from dealing yet again with an unhappy Princess Charming over the ironclad midnight rule, takes a break to go over to the coffee service table at the office corner to pour herself another cup. From what Lane spies on Tia’s workstation computer screen, there were already more calls incoming: Rapunzel with a question about the strain on her hair, a dwarf wanting to discuss a tenant issue, and so on. All of them are left on hold with the elevator music version of “A Whole New World” playing in a forever after loop on the line.

As Tia stirs in the cream and sugar, Lane decides to ask Tia, “Have you ever thought of quitting?”

Tia laughs. “More times than you’d ever guess,” she says, “But…Tamara has got to see the Tooth Fairy. And the Tooth Fairy only takes in-network insurance.”

Insurance – it’s always her only reason to stay. Lane must admit, the insurance benefits are decent, even if the salary isn’t.

“And you?”

“You know my answer to that,” Lane says. His intentions were never secret. He’s only here to fulfill a need until he finds a job that better matches his university degree.

“Next month it’ll be a full eight years for you, right?”

Lane sighs. “It will be,” he says. He’ll be turning thirty then, too.

“Eight years and counting,” Tia says as if to rub it in.

“The Boss convinced Lord Oz to make my job permanent. Makes sense. I mean, who else here can use seven kinds of magic?”

Lane realizes that he sounded arrogant, but he isn’t going to shake off his pride. He did, after all, write a huge ethnographic study on the Sea Custodians of the Southern Reach Island. It’s not the content but the methods that help him in his current job, he claims.

Tia gives a knowing nod in response and says, “I have to admit, I’m impressed you of all people survived the budget cuts.”

Lane feels a bit better and decides to finish up his work so he could finally call it a day. He returns to his computer screen. To his surprise, he sees that someone enters the Service Chat. Lane decides to wait and let Grawwk respond first.

Grawwk writes, “Welcome to the District Four office of the Bureau of Wishes and Miscellaneous Magic help center. A wishers’ service representative will enter the chat shortly. To get things started, please wish upon a star.”

The wisher writes, “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might have the wish I wish tonight.”

Grawwk responds, “Your wish is my command. Please enter your name.”

“Count Edgar of the Principality of the Lowland Coast.” It was almost always the men who preferred the chat instead of calling in.

Grawwk replies, “Thank you Edgar. Tell me a little more about what you need.”

Tia, to Lane’s surprise, is looking over his shoulder at the chat.

“Don’t you have to take those calls?” Lane asks.

Tia answers, “They can wait a little longer.”

Edgar’s message pops on screen, “I think I made a big mistake.”

“I’m sorry,” Grawwk responds, “This is outside my capabilities. Shall I transfer you to a representative?”

“Transfer me.” A new chat room opens.

Lane freezes. Tia nudges him. Lane types, “Hello, thank you for using the help center. What may I do for you?”

Edgar types, “I just think I was being too rash.”

“Wisher’s remorse,” Tia calls it. “Only this kid doesn’t know that Gertrude has already approved it. Puts a new spin on the phrase ‘you get what you wish for.’”

“So what do we do here?” Lane asks.

“I don’t think we have the authority to do anything. Technically, Lana and Etsuko handled this. But now it’s just for Gertrude to decide.”

Lane suspected as much. He could simply tell Edgar that he can only forward requests to the Boss. But he is genuinely curious. He types, “Can you please explain your reasons before we can see what we can do?”

Tia gives Lane a look. He shrugs. It can’t hurt to ask.

Edgar continues, “I was just reacting at my dad going on and on about how I need to ‘like a real prince charming.’ So I made that wish about marrying a mermaid princess ‘cause I thought it’d be too crazy to ever happen. And I could at least say to my dad, ‘hey I tried, OK?’ I mean, I don’t actually want to get married to a girl. And the sea freaks me out.”

Lane knows he cannot make any decisions, but he wonders how he should respond to this.

All of a sudden, another customer pops in. Edgar is still awaiting an answer, but Lane opens the new chat. He and Tia read the responses, waiting to see who the next person is.

The new visitor identifies herself to Grawwk, “Aria, Daughter of King Triton.”

“Holy shit,” Tia exclaims under her breath, “The two of them are on at the same time. We’ve never had this happen before.”

She is transferred to a chat with Lane.

Lane has a thought. “I don’t suppose we can connect them through the system and have them talk? I mean, they are going to be spending their ‘happily ever after’ with each other, right?”

Tia seems like she’s genuinely considering the idea, but she shakes her head. “Only if you’d like to get fired without severance,” she says, “Because the ‘Fairy Godmother doesn’t make any mistakes’ or so she claims.”

“But Grawwk made the match.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tia says matter-of-factly, “Gertrude still approved it.”

Lane thinks hard. At the worst possible time, all his ethnographic know-how goes out the window. Yet now he can’t put a sentence together. He asks Tia, “What do I say?”

“You’re asking me?” Tia says, surprised.

Dot, dot, dot. Edgar is still on the chat. “I know this sounds crazy, but can I wish upon a star that I didn’t wish upon a star?”

Unfortunately for Edgar, this loophole was closed years ago, thanks to the Boss’s bitter rivalry with the Great Jinn, that “no-talent pompous blue punk ass.” There’s a rule against wishing for more wishes and wishing to undo wishes.

Thinking that maybe he might get an idea on what to say chatting with Aria, Lance switches the chat window. Aria writes, “Now I’ve started thinking. I know next to nothing about landlubbers. How would I even fit in? I only made that dumb wish on a star on giving up my own voice, becoming a landlubber, and marrying the first guy I see because dad was getting on my ass for not being ‘Princess Charming.’ We all do stupid things when we argue with overbearing parents, right?”

“I knew I should not have thrown in a singing lobster,” Tia mutters.

Lane is beside himself. He has only ever aligned planets and adjusted cosmic threads of fate, but he’s never actually thought of whether wishers were really in their right minds when they made their wish. And now he’s wondering: what does happen after “happily ever after”? Especially now that Grawwk is making the calls and the Boss just wants to reach the magic thousand before retirement...

Tia nudges Lane again. It’s still his job to answer. He starts, “Sometimes the ‘happily ever after’ isn’t always the one we expect or even want. But once you’re there, all we can do is find a way to make do, be clearheaded about it, and take things as they come instead of trying to take it all at once.”

Tia raises her eyebrows. “That’s quite the mouthful, Lane,” she says. Lane isn’t sure if she’s impressed, but she doesn’t make any other remark.

Lane takes another second to contemplate. He hasn’t sent the message. He wants to say more.

Before he could continue, the Boss comes bursting into the office. Lane is about to greet her, but she’s in a bad mood. She says, “Lane! Are you still working on the Edgar and Aria case? I’ve already approved it! What’s the holdup? We’re far behind our quota and can’t move forward with any more cases if we’re still stuck on the same one! Lord Oz is breathing down my neck!”

“With all due respect,” Lane says, pointing at the chat, “We have a big problem here.”

“You’re kidding? We’re going to halt everything because two kids decided they have cold fins and cold feet?”

To Lane’s surprise, Tia interjects, “Well, things got complicated. We’ve never had BOTH wishers want to undo the very wish that got them matched in the first place.” Lane notes she’s careful not to bring up Grawwk.

Perhaps because it is some genuine respect for the longest-remaining employee that the Boss calms down a bit and decides to look at the chat history. Her face contorts with a range of expressions. Lane can’t figure out what she may be thinking, but he thinks she’s also perplexed about what to do. It’s only now that he realizes that no one in the wish bureau has really thought much about what goes on beyond the processes and the results.

The Boss coldly orders, “Close the case.”

Lane is taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Did you not hear me? There are no takesies-backsies,” the Boss says, “Hit the approval button and be done with it. It’s their own fault for making their wish. And now its done.”

But we shouldn’t do that, Lane wants to say aloud. Hasn’t anyone thought about the consequences WE cause?

“Lane, what are you waiting for?”

Lane exhales. I disagree and I can’t believe you’re going to take Grawwk’s word for this, he wants to say aloud.

But Tia gives that knowing look. In that glance she says, no you’re not going to argue, Lane. She’s not at all being malicious. She’s just being realistic. And she knows Lane too well. He’s been here too long and he’s never going to find another job.

Lane speaks, “I know what you’re saying. I understand we have procedures we have to follow.”

“So? What’s the problem?”

Lane exhales again, and looks to the side at the edge of the computer screen.

“Well, Lane, what is it?”

Lane clears his throat. “Well, thank you for your consideration and for clarifying things,” he says, now looking straight at the boss, “I’ll get right to this before I finish up for today.”

The Boss smiles (though Lane wonders if it’s actually a sneer). “Good boy, Lane. I trust you and Tia will make this month’s quota.”

Lane smiles weakly and says, “Of course. You’re the boss.”

Lane clicked on the “submit” button. A ping indicates that the planets and cosmic threads are beginning to shift in place.

The Boss steps out, satisfied.

“I’m sure she’ll sleep well tonight,” Tia says, shaking her head.

Lane shrugs. A job is a job. He shuts down the computer. The chats automatically close abruptly even though Edgar and Aria are still on it. He’s going to call it a night. He’s always going to come back to work, even if he doesn’t like it. He’s got to pay rent, after all.