The Department of Wishes

THE DEPARTMENT OF WISHES

“Welcome to the Department of Wishes. All wishes come through us. Good wishes, bad wishes — all the wishes, all the time.  

“I am a Wish Facilitator. Every wish arrives in our department first, then we send them on to the proper departments where they are can be best dealt with. Different departments for different wishes.  

“You’d be surprised at the things that people wish for. Some are for themselves, some are for others, and still others for the world in general. Some are good wishes — wanting the best for those around them. But, unfortunately many are bad wishes — wishing ill-will, even death, on others. 

"The wishes we receive are a diverse lot. Many of the wishes have to do with happiness, wealth, and, surprisingly, hair. Hair is a big wish for both men and women. Generally speaking, Boomers always want more hair on their heads, less in their ears and noses. Millenials seem generally happy with their head hair, but want less hair everywhere else.

“Here at the Department of Wishes we can help with some wishes; others have to be forwarded to the appropriate department. For example, “I wish …” wishes are handled by the Office of General Wishes, where I work. Other, more specific wishes have to be forwarded to the appropriate departments.”

Ding!

An incoming wish. I open the video, and settle back to watch.

*****

The woman, Beth, is watching a school play. She is dressed in a power suit — fire engine red — purse and heels to match. Make-up, hair, jewellery — perfect! She is standing against the wall, surrounded by other parents, all of whom seem to be transfixed by the antics of their seven and eight year-old children performing, she thinks, some sort of summer solstice play. She’s not sure, because she hasn’t actually read the note that was sent home from school. That job falls to Benita, her daughter Maddox’s nanny. Benita goes through Maddox’s backpack, and writes any upcoming event on the large paper wall calendar — in green, (Maddox’s favourite colour) then sends an electronic reminder to Mallory, Beth’s assistant, who then enters the information into Beth’s electronic calendar, again in green. All it said today was Maddox, play, 3:30 p.m., school auditorium.

She had had to reschedule a meeting with a very important corporate client to be here. But she is adamant that can’t be late for her dinner meeting with the other partners scheduled for later this evening. She glances at her watch, calculating how long she has before she has to leave and go back to the office.

Beth looks at the stage, trying to see Maddox. She’s pretty sure Maddox is one of the sprites, stage left. It’s so hard to tell from the back of the auditorium. She’d arrived five minutes late and the play had already started, so now she is standing at the back, not wanting her tardiness to distract from the play. She assumes Jack, Maddox’s father arrived early and is probably front row centre with his new wife. 

She feels her phone vibrate in her pocket, but dosen’t take it out. When Maddox was born Beth promised herself that when she was with Maddox, she was with Maddox — no work, no phone. Just Maddox. And she tries very hard to maintain that promise.

But, she thinks, there is a limit. The fairies, nymphs, trees, and flowers are now dancing around the child dressed as a big blue ball — Mother Earth? — and singing. Beth loves Maddox, but seven and eight year olds are not good singers.

“I wish to God this was over,” thinks Beth.

“Okay,” I say, drumming my fingertips on the desktop. “This one goes to the Department of Higher Wishes.” Pause. “Although I do think that it will be bumped back to me, because there is no actual religious connotation. But she used the word ‘God,’ so the rules say off to Higher Wishes it goes.”

I mark the wish with the Higher Wishes emoji — a pair of praying hands — and forward it away.

*****

Ding!

I look at the screen, and click on the wish.  

*****

A couple, Carol and Morris are arguing. There is swearing, shouting, and recriminations.

“You are horrible! I can’t believe that I married you. I was such an idiot. My parents were right! You are useless. I wish I had never met you!” Carol screams at Morris.

Ah, that’s my cue.  

Now, Dream Facilitators can’t actually change the past. But we can give the wisher an idea of what their life would be without the other person. We send them a dream — a dream of how their life would have been without the other person — the good and the bad. Sometimes the person is happy that the person is still in their life, and they reconsider their words. But mostly people see they would have been better without the other person, and end the relationship.

Soon after she falls asleep, Carol falls into a deep sleep, and enters her dream. In this dream she and her husband of twenty-five years never meet until much later in their lives. In real life, they met at work. Carol used to say that she met the man of her dreams at her dream job. Over the twenty-seven years that she has worked at DGC Advertising she has risen to the position of Vice President, a job she adores. But in the dream she never meets Morris because she didn’t get the job. Instead, in this dream, she gets fed up with crappy jobs at crappy agencies, and starts her own company. This is an actual dream that Carol has had for years — to be her own boss, but never wanted it enough to leave her amazing job at DGC. In the dream she does start her own company and loves it, but the hours and the stress are immense, and she ends up marrying and divorcing three times. As the dream moves forward to the present, Morris applies for a job at her agency and is hired. Carol realizes that she is attracted to him, but he is happily married to another woman, and they have three kids, all of whom he loves intensely. Carol and Morris never had children — both of them were too busy with their careers and never found the time.  

When she wakes in the morning, she looks over at the empty side of the bed — Morris slept in the guest room the previous night. She gets up and goes downstairs, where Morris is drinking coffee, reading the paper on his iPad.  

“I’m sorry. I’m glad we met. I don’t want to think about life without you. I love you.”

*****

I wish I was dead …

I wish we could be friends …

I wish I was rich …

I wish you loved me as much as I love you …

I wish we’d never had kids …

I wish we could have kids …

“These are all wishes that can be nudged by dreams.

“But, there are other wishes that have to be forwarded. And just like the Department of Higher Wishes, there is a Department of Lower Wishes.”

Ding!

*****

A man, Hugo, looks across the table at his parents, Astrid and Carl, hatred seething through his veins. But he can’t show them how much he hates them. Instead, he smiles at the inane thing his mother just said — something about Jean and Benson’s son, Ben Jr., just graduating from the MBA program at some university. Top of his class, she says. Walking into a six figure salary, right out of school, she says. His parent’s are so proud of him, she says. Then she looks at him, smiling her weak smile.

“You know, Hugo, it’s never too late to go back to school.”

Hugo grits his teeth. Same old passive/agressive argument. Tell him about someone else’s kid who’s doing so much better than him, followed immediately by suggestions on how he could be just like that other person, if only he’d …

Hugo hates listening to mother prattle on. The only reason he is here is because he needs money. Jobs are hard to find, unless you want to do some crap job. And Hugo is not a crap job kinda person. In fact, Hugo doesn't think that he's actually a job person, at all.

If he is being truthful with himself, Hugo knows that isn’t the only reason, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. He just needs some money so he can get a little something-something to help take the edge off. And that edge has been growing increasingly sharper since he walked in and his mother started yammering.

“That’s great, Mom. I’ll think about it. But, I was wondering if you could, you know, lend me a little bit of cash. I’m a bit short for this month’s rent, so maybe two or three hundred?”

Astrid looks at Carl, and Carl takes a deep breath.

“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen, son. We’re not going to give you anymore money. You’re twenty-five years old, and it’s time you started looking after yourself.”

“Why not? You’ve got the money. You’re rich as hell. What difference is a couple of hundred dollars going to make? I just need some cash to tide me over.” 

Hugo’s anger is rising, and he is trying hard to control it.

Carl shakes his head. “You’re just going to buy drugs with any money we give you. And we can’t contribute to your problem.” Carl looks directly at Hugo. “Now if you want, we can get you into a really good rehab centre—“

“Screw that!” He pushes himself away from the table, and stands “And screw you both. I wish to hell you both were dead!”

One mention of hell, and I attach the devil face emoji, and forward it to the Department of Lower Wishes. I have no idea who works in that department, but everything they send through interdepartmental mail smells like brimstone.

*****

“Wishes are not just for adults. Children have wishes too. And, without exception, the number one wish for children between the ages of three and seven, is for a pet. Little girls seem to gravitate towards ponies; little boys, dogs and snakes.”

Ding!

*****

The little girl, Alia, aged six, is sitting with her parents, Dale and Lauren, at the dining room table. Also at the table is her older brother, Jay, aged seven. They are having dinner.

“I wish I had a pony!” says Alia. “A beautiful brown and white pony. Like Kendal’s pony Trots.” She smiles widely.

Lauren looks at Dale, who just shrugs his shoulders.

“I said this would happen,” Dale whispers to Lauren.

Lauren turns to look at Dale. “What were supposed to do, not let her go?”

Unlike his sister, Jay has been following his parents' conversation. He knows that the chance of Alia getting a pony are less than zero. But …

“I want a pony!” Alia repeats, more strident than before.

Lauren looks at her daughter, and sighs. She remembers when she wanted a pony.  

“Sweetie, we live in an apartment. We can’t have a pony in an apartment.”

“Kendal lives in an apartment, and she has a pony! Why can’t I?”

“Because Kendal’s parents are richer than we are, and they have a farm where Trots lives. We don’t have a farm.”

“We could get one,” whines Alia.

“Sweetie, you are not getting a pony. How about, instead of a pony, we take you to riding school, and you learn how to ride a pony. Then you can visit with the ponies every week.”

Lauren knows she should have discussed this with Dale before making promises to Alia, but he wasn’t helping with the “No you can’t have a pony” conversation, so she makes an executive decision.

“I don’t want lessons. I. Want. A. Pony!”

Alia throws her fork on her plate, and pushes her dinner away.

“I WANT A PONY!”

And Alia is off to bed.

As I review the recording in front of me, I realize that there is no reason to nudge Alia’s parents with a dream. Lauren and Dale are never going to get Alia a pony. I continue to watch the submission.

“I wish I had a dog,” says Jay. “It’d be a lot easier to look after than a pony.”

He smiles the smile he knows melts his mom’s heart.

“It doesn’t have to be a big dog, just a medium or a small dog.”

Dale looks at Lauren. They had been talking about getting a pet. But they live on the fifth floor. Every time a dog would need to go out it would mean down the elevator, out for a walk, back up the elevator. Dale had a dog when he was a kid, but they lived in a house, and mostly just opened the back door to let the dog go in the back yard.

“I’ll help look after it,” says Jay, hopefully. “And I’ll walk it. And I’ll even pick up the poo when we’re on a walk."

In reality, Dale knows this is never going happen. Jay is seven years old. But, they are right across the street from the dog park, and he has been watching the owners walk their dogs from their living room window, thinking about having a dog of his own.

“Let’s think about it,” says Dale, already on Jay’s side.

Lauren, though, is more skeptical.

That night Lauren dreams of dogs. Big dogs, small dogs, training dogs, taking dogs out for a pee at three in the morning, picking up poop in the park, watching the kids play with the dog. Watching the whole family walk the dog — the good and the bad.

“Maybe,” she says when Dale asks her about it the next week.

*****

“That’s how the Department of Wishes works. We respond to your wishes. But, and I want to be very clear about this — each person has a limited number of wishes. Even if you aren’t really serious about your wish, it is still get sent to the Department of Wishes, and counts towards your total. Once you’ve reached your quota, you are done. No more nudging, no more dreams, just empty, unfulfilled wishes.”

“I wish I had more coffee,” says Amelia, knowing that she only has to get up and walk into the kitchen.

“I wish I was taller,” says Sean, knowing that’s never going to happen.

“I wish cars could fly,” thinks Benito, stuck in traffic.

“I wish my mother was still alive,” dreams Eno, on Mother’s Day.

“All these wishes are frivolous and impossible to fulfill. But they still count towards your overall number of wishes. So, be judicious in your wishes. Only wish for the important things. And remember that old saying — Be Careful What You Wish For.”