How The Wolf Lost Her Heart

by Sarah Brownlee

  “I want you to explain why I found a maggot in my bun!” he bellowed. Several of her colleagues in the office turned to stare, some barely containing their smirks.

  “Well, Sir, what we recommend is that you send the bun and maggot into us for examination –”

  “Send the bun and maggot in?” roared the man in outrage. “D’you think I keep the damn thing in my cupboard as some kind of prized possession? And what makes you think I’d keep the wriggling disgusting maggot in my house? No, Ma’am, I squashed that worm and fed the bun to the dog! What kind of company are you people running? Put me through to a manager NOW!”

  “One moment please, Sir,” said Skye, her smile becoming more and more strained.

  She pressed the ‘pause’ button on her computer and the man’s twisted enraged face came to a sudden standstill. Her grin vanished as quickly as the man had frozen.

  “Anyone got any spare bubbles?” said Skye, peering around at her colleagues.

  “Skye – what about your customer?” said one of the girls, gesturing towards the enormous stationary face.

  “Well, Ned’s not here for me to escalate the issue and I feel as though I’m going to lose my mind, so I think a five minute bubble break would be good, don’t you?” smiled Skye, rising from her seat and reaching for her jacket. Several of her colleagues shot raised eyebrows at one another.

  “If Ned finds out that you left the customer on hold for that long, he’s going to go berserk,” said the same girl anxiously.

  “Let him.” Skye could feel her rebellious nature getting the better of her but, quite frankly, in that moment she didn’t care. If she had to further endure the agony and insult of being yelled at by an elephant-sized man with nothing better to do with his life than complain about maggoty buns, she was going to switch. And that was definitely not something she wanted to do at work.

  “Here, take mine,” said a guy called Lucas with a wide grin, holding out his bubble pack to her. “I know how you feel,” he added in a low voice, while Skye smiled and thanked him, taking one of the bubble sticks and exiting the office, releasing an enormous breath as she did so.

  A long time ago it would have been common for office workers to take cigarette breaks, puffing away and filling their lungs with tar, whilst inhaling potentially fatal smoke. When cigarettes were banned some eighty years ago, however, they were replaced with a New-Age, ‘psychological’ concept of health, vigour and stress-free breaks in between an extremely stressful environment: blowing bubbles made out of washing up liquid, the type that children and animals are so fascinated by. Bubble-blowing packs were sold in cartons of ten sticks each; almost everyone working in an office environment would purchase these and they would gather in their droves to spend five minutes at a time outside, blowing away and discussing with one another about how much they hated their jobs. The end result was a new generation of corporate-based adults taking endless ‘bubble breaks’ during the most monotonous eight hours of their lives – and coming back to the office just as stressed as they were when they left it. However, the notion stuck and it was common to see suited and booted adults blowing bubbles outside their place of work (or inside the Bubble House, a small glasshouse specifically designed for this popular yet pointless activity, and based outside every corporation and establishment, where they would usually be squashed together – especially at lunchtime – blowing bubbles in one another’s faces). The activity had been banned inside the buildings itself, because of the amount of wet mess it made.

  It was a thoroughly non-windy day outside and Skye unwrapped the plastic foil from around the bubble stick, pulled it out of its container and blew. A stream of bubbles, large and small, sailed through the air before her and she watched them until each popped out of sight. She sighed loudly, dreading the next few hours that she would be stuck inside, listening to – usually irate – customers complain about their dissatisfaction with Trixaction Cinemas, the large cinema chain that she worked for. The man she had been dealing with just now was only one of many. They complained about a variety of things … About how the quality of the holographic film was fuzzy … about noisy chatter from other customers … about maggots in their hotdog buns …

  If it wasn’t for the fact that she needed the money to fund her ambition to travel, Skye would have happily left the job a long time ago. As it stood, she realized she’d have to spend at least another six months there until she could feel comfortable enough with the money situation. But the stress she had been feeling lately was really pushing her to the edge.

  To be perfectly honest, though, the truth was that it wasn’t just the mundane job that was causing her distress recently. Ever since the day when that spiteful bimbo, Sasha, had played on her insecurities, Skye had been avoiding Raphael like the plague. Though she told herself at first that they could be friends (which, of course, was what he wanted) she realized that the feelings she had developed for him would have to be completely squashed before she allowed that to happen. Her pride would not allow her to spend time with someone who didn’t feel the same way about her and, therefore, it was best to keep away from him altogether. To her dismay, she found herself thinking about him all the time. At home, at work, when she lay down to go to sleep at night, whenever she read about Bengal tigers in the wild. She was infuriated with herself and, trying not to focus too much on the tigers, she threw herself into her ambitions to work alongside endangered species with even greater fervour. She soon managed to gain control of her feelings, however – at least, as best as she could do. The advantage to being a Morpher was that it took a certain amount of mind control just to transform at all. Therefore, Morphers often had the upper hand when it came to dedicating themselves to feeling or thinking a certain way, even if the feeling itself could not be completely eradicated. And this particular feeling was by no means easy to destroy. She had ignored all of his calls and texts, having received quite a few, most of which were confused questions about why she wasn’t speaking to him. But the calls and texts abruptly ended two days ago and Skye suspected that he had at last given up hope of them being Morphing friends and gone on his own merry way.

  Probably into the arms of Sasha, she thought glumly.

  Shaking that thought from her head, she blew several more bubbles before stuffing the stick back into its container and lumbering back to the office. Soul destroying. Those were the only words to describe this line of work.

  “Erm, Ned wants to see you.” One of Skye’s female colleagues, Aurora, shot her an anxious look as she informed her that their manager was waiting for her in his office. Skye rolled her eyes and removed her coat, noting that the holographic multitude of chins had disappeared from her desk.

  Lucas shot her a sympathetic glance as she knocked on Ned’s door, bracing herself.

  “Enter!” the manager barked.

  Skye pulled the door open and entered the room, her eyes focussed towards the floor. Her manager, a 5’4” caucasian man in his early 30’s with a receding ginger hairline, glared at her while he sat imperiously in his swivel chair as though it were a throne.

  “Sit,” he ordered.

  Fully resenting being told to ‘sit’ as though she were a disobedient dog, Skye bit her lip and sat down opposite him.

  “So,” he said in a hissing voice. “So.”

  “So?” Skye said, before she could help herself.

  “Perhaps you would like to explain to me why you left Mr. Oogberg stationary for over ten minutes while you went out to have a bubble break!”

  “Ten minutes? I wasn’t gone that long –”

  “It doesn’t matter how long you were gone!” Ned yelled, his face puce. “You never leave a customer on hold like that just so you can have a break! The customer is always right! Bad customer service reflects badly on the company; good customer service reflects well on the company. Therefore, the customer must be treated with the utmost respect. Do you understand this?”

  Gritting her teeth, Skye nodded.

  �
��We in Customer Services are the foundation of the company. When we show a lack of decency and empathy towards our customers who have had a bad experience with us, we undermine the very values that we believe in: an excellent, high-quality cinematic experience and a company that cares about its customers, putting their needs and wants first. Without this, we will lose the one thing we hold dearest to us – their loyalty!”

  You mean their money, thought Skye cynically, who had heard the same corporate drivel countless times before. Good customer service basically meant tolerating all hurls of verbal abuse from people with a smile on your face as long as they continued to splash their cash. She was really not in the mood to hear Ned repeat himself yet again with such mind-numbing information but, unfortunately, he wasn’t finished.

  “Mr Oogberg found a maggot in his bun, Skye. Do you realize how serious this is?”

  Mutely, Skye nodded.

  “It is serious because of hygiene. It is serious because an accusation of poor hygiene is detrimental to the company name. It is serious because Mr Oogberg felt so disheartened by his experience that he felt compelled to terminate his loyalty to us. It is serious because I have had to offer our customer a month's worth of free cinematic membership as a gesture of goodwill in order to convince him to return. That is why it is serious, Skye! Do you understand?”

  Skye nodded again.

  Stay calm, she thought. Think of bubbles … blowing bubbles … Bubble tea … Hmm, I drank bubble tea a couple of weeks ago … Bubble tea … Raphael … Oops, don’t think about him …

  “Damn,” she said out loud, wishing she hadn’t made that particular link in her mind.

  “Precisely!” exclaimed Ned, grossly misjudging the reason for her outburst and believing she was expressing consternation due to the tribulation he had suffered at the hands of Mr. Oogberg. “Fortunately, I managed to rectify the damage you caused; the customer has been gracious enough to accept my offer and let us prove to him that we are worthy of his loyalty. I must confess, Skye, I am deeply disappointed in you. I expected more. You have been with us for almost a year now and I had been seriously considering putting your name forward for a supervisory position.”

  He paused, plainly expecting Skye to leap up and down with joy and thank him for such a marvellous opportunity. When she didn’t, he continued speaking in a pedantic, superior tone that further grinded her nerves.

  “I was once where you are now, at the bottom of the bucket. It took me seven years to get where I am today. Now look at me – Manager of Trixaction Customer Services. If you play your cards right and don’t pull any more of these silly stunts, this could be you in seven years.”

  He stared at her in a serious, self-important way. Skye stared back, realizing she was looking at a fate worse than death.

  I have to quit this job, she thought mournfully, at the same time realizing that she was trapped, at least for the next six months. Jobs were hard to come by for those without academic qualifications and, as Skye had none, she realized she would have to stick it out as best as she could.

  “Yes,” she said clearing her throat and trying to assume a regretful tone. “I see. I’m really very sorry for what I did. It won’t happen again.”

  Relatively satisfied with this display of remorse, Ned waved her away with a gracious flick of the hand. Clenching her jaw, Skye rose from her chair and left the room, resuming her seat and committing herself to several more hours of pure hell.

  *

  Eventually, seven o’ clock in the evening came to pass. Skye and all of her colleagues let out a simultaneous sigh of relief, each of them shutting down their computers as quickly as possible – except for one unfortunate soul seated at the back who was trapped in a call with a furious holographic woman; the woman was yelling about being short-changed by a staff member at the cinema and the poor customer service agent could only nod sympathetically, though not unable to hide the desperate, cornered look in her eyes as she shot envious glances towards her colleagues who were bolting out of the door. Skye was one of those among the melee to escape and, as she stepped outside into the fresh air, she felt the familiar sense of release that she felt every weekday at this point of the evening.

  “So, how bad was it with Ned earlier on today?”

  Skye turned around to see Lucas standing beside her, grinning.

  “Oh – well nothing I can’t handle. He gave me the usual spill about the importance of accepting abuse for what it is.”

  Lucas chuckled, his blue eyes crinkling at the sides.

  “I heard him shouting at some point. Did he give you the speech about how he made his way up from the bottom?”

  “He did indeed.”

  “I’ve had that speech about three times. He told me he sees potential in me and that I could really make something of myself in this job – God forbid! I don’t reckon I’m going to last much longer here.”

  Skye laughed.

  “Same here. I just need to stick around for a bit longer to save up some money. Then I’m gone.”

  Lucas smiled, digging his hands into his pockets.

  “Sounds like a plan. Say, do you fancy going for a quick drink in The Fire Horse? Not for long – thought we could share some funny stories about Ned and his self-delusion, maybe throw in a few psycho customers …”

  He looked hopeful as he waited for Skye’s response, shifting slightly nervously on the spot. Skye was bemused. Lucas had never asked her to go for a drink before, nor had she seen him look as nervous as he did now …

  “Erm …” she started, but all of a sudden the strangest feeling came over her. The hairs on her neck stood on edge, her muscles tensed up until they could tense no further; a sort of eeriness ran through her blood; her wolf senses magnified and she realized that, without a doubt, there was someone watching her from behind.

  She spun round, scanning her eyes about. Then, from behind a tree and to her absolute shock when she saw who it was, someone stepped out towards her.

  It was Raphael. And he did not look happy.

  “Hello Skye,” he said, his expression stony.

  “Raphael – hi!” Skye said, not knowing quite how to react to this surprising, unpleasant turn of events.

  Lucas, who looked from Skye to Raphael and was clearly able to sense the tension, coughed a little and said to the girl before him,

  “So … fancy that drink?”

  “Sorry, she can’t today,” said Raphael in a flat voice, staring at him, his green eyes luminous in the twilight.

  Amazed that he had the audacity to speak for her (especially considering that she hadn’t seen him for a fortnight) but at the same time worried about what she was going to say to him, Skye turned to Lucas, who was frowning, and said in an apologetic tone,

  “Another time, Lucas. Sorry. I can’t today. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

  With a shrug, Lucas turned away and made his way towards the main road. Skye turned towards Raphael, her eyes narrowed.

  “Why did you have to be so rude?”

  Incredulity replaced Raphael’s hard expression.

  “Wait – me? You’re accusing me of being rude when you’re the one who’s been ignoring me for the past two weeks? Wow, Skye, that’s rich.”

  Completely unprepared for this conversation and dreading it, Skye started to offer an explanation as to why she hadn’t been answering his calls or texts.

  “I just felt that we weren’t really getting along … and I have so many things to focus on …”

  “What do you mean, we weren’t getting along? How exactly were we not getting along? As far as I was concerned, we were getting on just fine! We had a good time at Bert’s, you liked the tea and the steak, we talked about things … I told you lots of things, Skye, that I haven’t told anyone! About my ancestor, for example. So could you please explain to me exactly how we weren’t getting along, because this confusion is doing my head in!”

  Desperately seeking a diversion, Skye rubbed her forehead with her hand.r />
  “I just – I don’t know,” she muttered. “Could we talk about this another time – please? I’ve had a really long day, I just want to go home …”

  “I think you owe me an explanation first,” said Raphael, his handsome face contorted into a perilous expression, the tiger in him becoming more palpable. “I came here specifically to talk to you. I knew you hadn’t lost your tag device and, even if you had, an immediate replacement is always sent.”

  “How did you know where I work anyway?”

  “I went to your house and asked your mum.”

  “You did what?” Skye shrieked.

  “I asked your mum,” said Raphael firmly. “She didn’t know why you were ignoring me either. Your mum suggested I speak to you face to face, so here I am.”

  “You went to my – what do you mean you – I can’t believe you went to my house!” spluttered Skye, outrage replacing any feelings of nerves. “How exactly did you find out where I live?”

  “It doesn’t take being a private investigator, Skye. You told me you live in Brentfordshire and the town isn’t massively populated.”

  “So you thought you’d stalk me to my house?” Skye growled. “How dare you?”

  “Well, what did you expect?” Raphael said, his voice rising. “You purposefully ignore my attempts to contact you – I really thought we were getting along great – both of us Morphers – and then, out of the blue, you just stop speaking to me! What? Did you think I wasn’t going to find out why you were suddenly giving me the cold shoulder?”

  Actually, that was exactly what Skye had thought. She figured he would have forgotten about her, soon to be a distant memory of the past. She was highly enraged that he would actually track her down and speak to her mother of all people, but at the same time, despite herself, she couldn’t help feeling a small sense of elation somewhere in the far region of her stomach that he actually cared enough to seek her out.