You know those days when you just really don’t want to go to work? The kind where, for whatever reason, you can think of nothing more odious than leaving your house, secure in the knowledge that where you’re headed is somewhere you’re going to be stuck for the next however many hours. And the worst part is, you’re only doing it to earn money. Not because you’re learning or because you want to. You just have to pay the rent. Today was one of those days.

I should probably be more specific. Every day was one of those days. Every. Single. Day. Why? Because I hated my job. Well, I’d hated the previous one. And the one before that. Hell, I’d hated every job since I graduated. I was starting a new one today, and nothing gave me any reason to hope it would be anything different. 4 years, and I was still stuck doing the same dead-end stuff they had told me on my first day of university that I would never again have to do. I guess I should’ve known, really. After all, they always said ‘you’ll never get a job if you study humanities’. Of course, I knew better didn’t I? Sociology for the win! Bull. Noone ever wanted you if that was all your piece of paper said.

Groaning, I heaved myself out of my beat-up old car, a hand-me-down from my neighbour when she had upgraded, and locked the door with a sense of irony. Noone would be caught dead driving the thing if they didn’t have to. Why bother locking it? Because my gut said to, was the inevitable answer. I closed my eyes in exasperation, shaking my head. I was talking to myself again. I always did when I was in a bad mood. Or a good one, for that matter. Kinda came with the territory when you didn’t really have any friends. The youngest person in my apartment block was old enough to be my grandmother, and I didn’t like clubs or parties, so the extent of my social interaction was work and the occasional stop at a coffee shop. I didn’t really care, if it came right down to it. I hated people. Well…hate was a strong word. Loathed was a little closer, slightly less negative. Actively avoided was probably most apt. Which was why this damn job was definitely a nightmare.

I cringed at the thought of what I was about to do and made my way into the mall and to the store, plastering a fake smile on my face as I greeted my new boss and followed her toward the back to get my new uniform. It took nearly 20 minutes to get into the thing, but I was soon able to skip the smile, my face safely hidden inside the oversized cartoon Sailor Moon head. I brushed down the skirt to make sure it lay properly and grabbed the basket with its load of flyers and lollipops, giving it a glare as I made my way out to the front of the store. There weren’t many things I avoided more than people, but one of them was definitely Valentine’s Day. Or, to be more specific, Valentine’s season. I hadn’t even dated since I started university. Guys just weren’t into the whole ‘stay away from me or I’ll find a new way to gut you with a spork’ vibe I’d gradually developed when I realised I hated the course. Hell, even when I’d dated, I’d never really celebrated the day. Most of the guys I’d seen had been as romantic as my grandma’s socks…and in one case, turned out to be as smelly. That guy needed to learn how to bathe more than once a month. In the end, I had taken to spending every V-day with my two baes, a couple of sweet fellas by the name of Ben and Jerry.

I stationed myself by the doorway and started handing out flyers, giving lollipops to the little kids and the lovey-dovey couples (gag me), but soon noticed that people weren’t really paying attention to my aura of charm. Most of them were coming near me and then being distracted by something further away. Turning to look, I rolled my eyes when I saw probably the dumbest thing I could have imagined: a freaking hip-hop dancing teddy bear mascot. I mean, seriously? Weren’t mascots supposed to be all cutesy and adorable? Here this weirdo was acting like Korea’s Got Talent had a category exclusively for b-boy mascots and he or she was determined to win. I watched for a couple of minutes, virtually cringing every time another person walked right past me toward the bear (I started calling it Winnie in my head, just so I could stop trying to figure out if it was a guy or girl), and then got an idea. If you can’t beat em….

Marching over, I set down my basket somewhere I could keep an eye on it (I was not paying for those lollipops out of my paycheck) and edged to the front of the little crowd that had gathered around Winnie. People seemed to have an idea what was coming and made way for me. Winnie was clearly surprised to see another mascot in the crowd and stopped for a second, tilting its head when I pulled my best Sailor Moon attack pose…thing (I swear, I could almost feel my dignity shrivelling up in disgust). It seemed to take the hint though and stepped back. I’d never been very good at singing, or at least, I’d never made any progress at it, but dancing was one thing I’d been doing ever since I was a toddler. The less said about my plies the better, but I’d picked up a few moves here and there that were more than suited for this situation. I began to ‘dance’, or whatever it could be called when your body was surrounded by inch-thick foam and your head was a beach ball, slipping in a few of the moves Winnie had pulled earlier.

When I’d done what I set out to do, I stood back, arms folded and smirking behind the foam. Winnie took the bait. We were soon in full-on dance-battle mode and I couldn’t believe it. I was actually kind of having fun! People were cheering us on, some on my side, some on Winnie’s, but all of them paying attention to both of us. When we had come to what could only be assumed to be a draw, considering both of us (or at least me) were out of breath, I grabbed my basket again and was swamped with people wanting flyers.

In minutes, I had emptied the basket of flyers and lollipops and headed back into the store to let my boss know. She was thrilled. Apparently it was unusual to have a dance battle outside the store. Who knew? She gave me a few minutes to grab a drink of lemonade, then loaded my basket with more flyers and lollipops and practically pushed me out the door. Well, not so much practically as literally.

Things were quieter this time and I actually had time to sit down now and then on a bench nearby when no one was around. Finally, the store was nearly ready to close and the boss told me I could finish up. Before I could go inside, though, something tapped my arm. I turned and found myself foam nose to foam nose with Winnie. I tilted my head, not about to deign to speak to my new archenemy. It held out a paw and dropped something into my basket. I looked down and saw that it was a little piece of paper with a chocolate stuck to it. The paper itself had the name of the store Winnie was advertising emblazoned on it in gaudy pink and black lettering, but below it, just above the chocolate, a phone number had been written. I looked up at Winnie in confusion, head tilted again. It tapped its chest, then its ear. I stared for a few seconds, wondering what the heck it was on, before it finally fell into place. This bear was giving me its phone number. I could honestly say I’d never been picked up by someone with four legs before. I nearly snorted at the thought. It tilted its head too and held out a paw. Again, I stared for a moment before finally figuring out what was going on. Now, normally, I would have burst out laughing, or maybe punched it in its obnoxiously oversized snout. Today, though, I was a little less pissed off at the approach.

Maybe it was the fact that Winnie wasn’t entirely a terrible dancer, or maybe the fumes from the glue holding Sailor Moon’s eyes in place. Either way, I held up a hand and handed Winnie my basket. Wandering back into the store, I grabbed one of the remaining lollipops and a bit of tape. Sticking it to a piece of paper, I leaned on the counter and wrote my number on the slip, adding ‘Sailor Moon’ so Winnie would know who it was. After a moment of thinking, I ripped the note off and grabbed another piece of paper. Sticking the lollipop to the new one, I wrote a quick ‘To Winnie, From Sailor Moon’ on it, along with my number. That way it might know what I knew it as if we ever actually talked. I turned around and almost fell over when I found a giant nose in front of my face. Apparently the bear was sneaky. It held up the basket in both paws under its chin, as if to say sorry, then held it out to me. I took it, perhaps a little more abruptly than was really necessary, and handed Ninja-Bear the slip. It took it, reading the note and then nodding at me. It bowed and turned, skipping out of the store. Skipping. Holy crap, I had given my number to a skipping, hiphop ninja bear. What was my life coming to? I shook my head and wandered to the back room to change. I could barely believe it, but somehow it took longer to get out of the damn costume than to get into it. By the time I was back in my own clothes, I was a sweating, panting mess, and more than happy to accept the bottle of lemonade the owner gave me as she waved me off.

An hour later, I was at home and taking a much needed cool shower. I had made it through my first day and, somehow, wasn’t wishing I could claw my own face off. I counted that as a success. Eventually, I was curled up on the sofa that doubled as my bed, pizza in hand and watching Disney movies on Netflix when my phone vibrated. Hoping I hadn’t done poorly enough to get myself fired on the first day, I wiped my hands and grabbed my phone. It wasn’t the store’s number, or my boss’s. I shrugged and tossed the phone back on the coffee table. I was getting so sick of telemarketers. If I wanted a new car, I wasn’t going to be getting a loan from someone who didn’t even know who I was when they called me. I turned my attention back to the movie, singing along with Sleeping Beauty at the top of my lungs until the neighbour next door banged on the wall. It was almost the end of the movie, so I switched it off and set my plate aside, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch and curling up. My phone vibrated again. Scowling, I picked it up. This time, it was a message, the same number showing on the screen. I unlocked the phone and opened the message.

“I guess you’re asleep. Goodnight, Sailor Moon”

Huh. So it was Winnie that was calling. I felt a slight twinge of guilt at not answering, but then reminded myself that it wasn’t like I owed the dang bear anything. Closing the phone again, I set it down and closed my eyes, drifting off to sleep quickly.