Grimm Truths: Job Satisfaction

The cow. The ungrateful, ungrateful little cow.

I hear nothing from her these days. Nothing. Not one word. Not even a card on my birthday. She should be more grateful for what I did.

Don’t get me wrong, the stepmother was a monster. She was wicked. She shouldn't have treated the girl like she did. But, at the end of the day, I put my arse on the line, I got her out of there – got her the handsome prince. She should have just… you know… well, an invite to the wedding wouldn't have gone amiss.

I mean, honestly – turning a pumpkin into a coach. Have you any idea how hard that is? I nearly collapsed after doing that. It took everything I had. Then, on top of that, you've got the dress, the shoes, and she wasn't having any of that cheap crap, oh no - it had to be bleedin' designer. And then, you've got the chauffeur and all his gear. It wasn't easy. I’m still recovering from it.

I can’t believe how inconsiderate she was. She used to be a good girl - she really did. Would have done anything for anyone – a lovely lass. Then, all of a sudden, up the social ladder she goes, and nuts to those who put you there.

Cinderella… bah!

I hope, you know, I really hope… that her servant quits, and she has to go around scrubbing her own floors one of these days. That will have her eating some humble pie, won’t it? Remind her of where she came from for once.

You see, it used to be a private sector. We used to do, like… contract jobs, you know? Then the top dogs decided that it would be better if magic was available to the public. I was on fifty grand a year last century. Fifty grand a year. Now I get a pittance… sweet FA, really, for what I do.

They decided that magic shouldn't be just for the princesses – you know, for the “happy ever afters”. For the elite, shall we say. So, we had to start helping every beggar who asked for it. It’s not on, really – I mean, we've barely enough magic to support ourselves, never mind some ungrateful little cow who forgets what you've done for her after two minutes.

Now Sleeping Beauty. That was a job. That was a good one. Seven of us were invited round - this was back in the days of the private contracts, you understand - seven of us were invited round to a big bash. And it was a party. There was a champagne fountain, there was chocolate fondue and those… what d'ya call 'ems, those marshmallow stick things, you know. Everyone wanted to be there. We were fighting for the places. And I got in, by pure fluke.

But my friend Maggie – my old friend from school - she didn’t. They wouldn’t invite her. She was very annoyed about that – very annoyed indeed. I told her, “Maggie, Maggie love… just take it to tribunal, don’t go mad.” She says, “No, no… I’m going further than that.”  I said, “Maggie, Maggie, please – just take it to tribunal. Don’t kick off. Don’t get in too deep with this, all right? Maybe it was a mistake, maybe they did it on purpose, I don’t know - but just take it to tribunal.”

No. She put a curse on the daughter. She cursed the daughter. Fell asleep for a hundred years, until Prince Charming came and woke her up. Maggie found herself in pretty hot water after that little stunt. Got the "Christmas Tree Treatment", poor bitch - shrunk down to a teeny tiny size, and forced to spend the next few decades with the Arboretum's prize specimen shoved up your... well, let's not dwell on that, shall we?

That’s the thing, you see. We act as a bridge, basically. We can take anyone, and make them anyone. It’s a crummy business - it really is. No-one even credits us after the big miracle occurs. We provide more rises in social status than the paparazzi and TV talent shows combined. We take them from nothing, give them fancy clothes, a new car, whatever, and the next minute, they’re on top of the world. Do they thank us? Do they mention us? No.

Mind you, I guess genies are worse off. At least we can move around whenever we want, and aren't stuck in a lamp for a thousand years. I knew one who only got his freedom after… about fifty jobs, I think. He didn't have the greatest experience of employment. Still, he got to work from home.

You’ll have noticed that I've not got my wings on show today. I don't display them on my days off. I'm not in the sparkly uniform. We don't wear those pink cake-shaped monstrosities for fun, you know. I much prefer jeans and a hoodie. Most Fairy Godmothers don’t like to show who they are in public, because we’re sick of the way we end up being treated. People think that, just because you’re a Fairy Godmother, they can approach you in public and ask for a big house, new wife, new husband, or any other crap they want, and expect you to give it to them for nothing. I'm like, “Excuse me, it's a job. I get paid. We've got a union. I do go off-shift from time to time.”

I didn't even want to do this job. I really didn't want to. I was apprentice to an alchemist at one point – you know, turning metal into gold. Now that would have been a good job. If I’d run out of money at any point, I could have just got my car keys, turned them into gold and pawned them. The rules of Fairy Godmothering say that we can’t use our powers for personal gain.

I've not had much work recently, to be honest. People are turning to the media for quick fame nowadays - stuff like that "TubeyFaceTwit", or whatever the hell you call it. I mean, I'm glad the lazy bastards are working for themselves for once, but it does leave you with nothing to do. The age of the Fairy Godmother is dead and gone. I do get the odd job now and again… some celebrity who wants - oh, I don’t know – a new concert to go well, or any kind of quick fix, really. Get them a new Mercedes, or a bigger tour bus, something like that. We can sort something out for them in five minutes.

You know, in all the years I've been doing this... I’ve not seen one person ever make a wish for someone else. Never. Once they see us, all they can think of is “me, me, me”. That just shows how vain people are.

What happens if the work ever dries up completely? What are we supposed to do? We can’t have private contracts any more, so there’s no point going down that route. We’re monitored. We have to account for everything we do.

Once… just once… a bit of recognition would be nice. It just would. I mean, where’s our “Happily Ever After”? We can make them for others, but we can’t make them for ourselves. That’s the most ironic thing about it all, really.