Everyone--Gratitude Please!

“Good morning, everyone!”                  

He walked through the stone-grey and beige office. Cubicles were like little worlds on a planet. The Office Planet.  

The Planet from Hell. He walked to his own computer amidst others’ chairs pushed out in all directions.

You see, Bert’s been working here at Waggs Foundation—a company helping people understand how to complete everyday needs like checking emails, making phone calls and mail, sending letters—for 15 years. But it's felt like two centuries. Because Bert had been slogging away.

Until last year. A few days before Thanksgiving when he decided he’d be grateful not just this day, but he would give thanks every day.

“Why?” He stood in front of the room, everyone giving this man their complete attention. “Why have I decided not to give thanks only on Thanksgiving? Because every day, I walk into work. I sit down and do work. And then I get up and go home all to do this work all over again. I’m not on the streets starving, or dying in the hospital of cancer or a life-threatening disease, or caring for an angry, indifferent person who hates me and wouldn’t know the difference between me as their helper and me as a stranger. So, I give thanks to all of you. For being my—”

Someone scoffed. Another laughed. Bert raised a finger, motioning for silence. That gift never came to him. “This is unbelievable! I can’t thank the computer, the printing machine, my car and my arms and hands! I’ll never be grateful. We’re working a thankless job!”

As he high-fived and pumped his fists with gusto at others’ cheers and agreements. Bert pursed his lips and then grabbed his mug to get some coffee over in the kitchen beside the boss’ office. As he neared the kitchen, someone snatched his mug, taunted him with it by holding it up high above his head and then threw it on the ground. It smashed into a thousand pieces. Bert gaped and then blinked back tears. His favorite mug decimated forever. Never in his life would he be able to fill this cup with his favorite steaming black mocha coffee and piping-hot hot cocoa with marsh mellows floating like icebergs on an icy-blue sea.  

“Get another one at the Dollar Tree!” A coworker jested as some others sniggered. “You’re going to be working here forever, so get used to it!”

After cleaning up the mess, he headed right for his chair, dropped into it and pulled himself up to his desk. Clicking his mouse to get his computer up and working, Bert scratched his near-balding head. His initial reaction to things like this so-called accident would be to throw himself into completely angry hysterics right in front of everyone. But as Bert said to himself days before Thanksgiving last year, he promised he wouldn’t put himself on the spot. He wouldn’t bow to defeat. He would help the others be grateful just like him by greeting everyone every morning, speaking positivity during lunch breaks and waving everyone goodnight and a good weekend every month. On his birthday, Bert would treat everyone to his favorite chocolate and coconut-filled cupcakes--a dessert he would sell to his neighbors to make enough money for his own cupcake business. Whenever he wasn’t drowning in papers Mr. Shoes dropped indifferently onto his desk already groaning with the weight of unfinished documents, he was selling his fanciful desserts in the neighborhood. Everyone devoured them!

Tomorrow was his birthday. However, no one answered, much less noticed them, when Bert brought them to work. He still put a cupcake on each person’s desk. When called into his boss’ office, Bert even gave one to Mr. Shoes. He didn’t even acknowledge the cupcake.

But Bert respected his boss. The day before Christmas Eve (the last day before their two-day Christmas break called Christmas Eve and Christmas Day), Bert stormed into his boss’ office.

“I’ve had it with all these shenanigans!” Bert threw his necktie and ID card down onto the ugly carpet. “I’m done. I can’t just get smiles through the phone. I’m going to go crazy!”

Bert walked away from that office forever. He would wake up tomorrow morning with everyone beaming at and wishing him a happy birthday. He promised himself he’d be grateful. He stopped at a park.

No one’s worked at a boringly dull-colored help company for a decade and a half. Have I complained? Have I broken down and quit? Have I said goodbye forever? Until now? I may be a loser, but I'm grateful.

Bert called his wife. They talked for a long while. Then Bert started coughing. He shivered and trembled, his teeth chattering. He shied away from all people (especially those who ordered him to wear a coat—this was Minneapolis, Minnesota, as it was 23 degrees outside!). As soon as he had shut himself in a construction area’s porta-potty, Bert thought about his wife’s words: Get another job. This slog is only pulling you apart—

“No!” Bert jerked up in bed, cold sweat trickling down his face. “I can’t quit. I made a promise.”

In his next dream, Bert’s coworkers pulsated with gratitude—slapping each other on the back when it was Promotion Day, toasting each other with Bert's cupcakes every birthday, letting Christmas carols ring throughout the air on Christmas and giving each other bear-hugs after playing Secret Santa. Bert grinned as everyone gestured for him to sit with them. How accepting! How inviting! How perfect—everyone agreeing with each other.

Maybe if... Bert thought upon awakening. If I start a cupcake business, everyone will start appreciating my talent for baking. Soon, everyone will be eating my cupcakes--even Ernie and all the others at the office! Hey, what do you know--maybe I'll be popular! I won't be a loser forever.

Bert decided that to open a cupcake business at a bakery, he first needed an assistant. His wife always wore such sequence and faux fur--she wouldn't be caught dead with icing stained on those expensive outfits. After sending in the papers, Bert grabbed his coat and headed out to the garage’s car. As he was driving, he had to use the restroom. An animal pound was right there, so he stopped at it.

With a windbreaker wrapped around him, Bert headed inside, jogging to the bathroom. While heading back to his car, Bert noticed how poorly creative the place was--this place was no memorable home for such sweet, innocent animals!

He went up to the receptionist's desk and asked about the cats--maybe an office pet would brighten up everyone's work life, especially Ernie's. The busy woman kept talking on the phone.

Come on, already! Bert sighed, tapped his foot and asked whether she heard him. She nodded, and then invited him to follow her.

They walked up to a chipped, worn door creaking terribly when the receptionist opened it and pointed to a plastic container with a litter of kittens all begging for adoption. They weren’t from around here, the woman said cautiously. So choose your pick of the litter. Bert thanked her and entered. Some of these cats were sapphire-eyed, wire-haired and emerald-tailed. But all of them stared at him, pleading with him!

Some had gold rings around their irises. Some just lay back with their paws behind their heads, one foot atop the other leg’s knee like they were just relaxing at the beach. Bert blinked rapidly and scratched his eyes. He muttered whether this was the third crazy dream.

“Nope. It’s not a dream, no sir!”

Bert’s eyebrows went up and his jaw went down. One of the cats talked!

“Who talked?”

“I did!” The cat with an emerald ringed tail, sharp, pointy eyes and grey face with hair jutting away from each other on both cheeks pleaded with Bert. “Take me!”

 Bert picked it up, looked it over and then carried it, its skinny arms hanging over his shoulder. As Bert closed the door, he felt terrible for the other cats waiting hopelessly for such a person to free them, too.

“Hey—I know you talk and all.” Bert had killed the engine at home and turned around. “But those cats back there—They’re, like, your siblings or something, right? I felt terrible walking away from them.”

The cat was shaking its head. “They’re my best friends. They don’t deserve to be all cooped up like that in that box thing the vets call a house. It’s not a house! It’s a freaking cage.” It complained about being in this bigger cage Bert had called a car. When it was on the kitchen floor, the cat took in its surroundings.

“So,” Bert started, “I'm starting my own cupcake bakery. How about you be my assistant? You can also be our office pet back at work!”

It looked at him. “Let’s make a deal. You get my friends out of that so-called pound, and I’ll help you make the best—”

“Cupcakes—”

“Ever!”

They both nodded and shook. Bert’s hand with the cat’s paw.

“Say, what’s your name?”

“Call me Jellies!”

“Bert.”

2 Weeks Later…

“Hey, Bert, what’s with all the cat food?” 

Bert’s perplexed wife walked inside the house, questioning the five bags of cat food stacked neatly in a corner of the garage. She inquired about the bowls and scratch post, cat jungle gym and cat swimming pool.

Then she halted. “Why is that here?” She stared right at Jellies, who had just walked into the foyer, and then at Bert when he entered the kitchen. Jellies just sat there, her tail moving slowly behind her. The wife jerked a finger at her. “What— is this---this animal? It'll get cat hair all over my stuff. I'm not buying more stuff because some stupid animal--”

Bert slid a comforting hand around his wife’s shoulders. “Now, now. It’s Jellies—our cat. She talks.” Jellies fled the scene, and Bert brought her close to him in a hug. “Just a pet I picked up at the pound little ways over on Michael Bounds St.”

Bert’s wife told him she’d be in her room. A minute later, she reappeared, her silk night robe’s belt ends trailing on the floor. “That cat rips my cheetah fur scarves and skunk fur rugs to shreds, and you’re selling her!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Bert responded from the living room.

“I’m not going to be here to take care of it—”

Bert waved her words away with a grunt and a hand. “Please. She’s fine!” Jellies hopped up onto the couch and up to Bert, purring as he scratched her between the ears. The wife narrowed her eyes. Bert looked over. “See? Just me and Jellies!”

The wife sulked away.

“Maybe she can help us rescue your friends!”  

Jellies shook her head. “No. She must stay out of this project. We must save them ourselves.”

“Okay…”

That Friday after work, Bert made a little bed for Jellies’ friends while she whisked the batter with her tail and then reached over to grab some cinnamon and ginger, pouring it into the mix. Then he made a quick run to the pound. He bought them and headed back to the bakery. The more helpers the merrier, right? Besides, what'll the police do--kidnap them?

Jellies leaped down from the counter with a huge grin and gave them all a huge hug immediately when Bert had entered the bakery.

Four Weeks Later

"What do you mean I can't keep them? They're my pets. I just need some help around here. Besides, I let them go, and I'll never be respected by my coworkers. They'll just laugh at me forever. Even if I do quit, everyone will remember the loser who couldn't."

"My son's spotted unusually colorful, talking cats helping you make your cupcakes in your bakery. He told his parents, and we called the authorities."

Bert took a deep breath. Jellies and her friends--Tang, Shang and Wang--would have to go back to the pound.

After the authorities threatened to shut down his business if he didn't return the cats, Bert sat next to their bed. He put a hand on Jellies' shoulder. “Jellies, you’re an amazing help, but it's illegal to keep all of you here. You're returning to the pound." Then the office pet promise came to mind. "I don't think they'll want you, either. They're just too grouchy." He sighed. "It's okay--I'll..." He faltered. "I don't know. I guess we'll just be losers forever. Nobodies. Besides, we always have been."

“You’re kidding, right?” Jellies freaked, her heart beating and her breath laborious. She stood there like a statue at Bert's house for the next several weeks, vehemently refusing to comply with her friends' suggestions to join them in their musical party downstairs. These cats may not speak, but Tang's trumpet, Shang's violin and Wang's trombone could instrumentalize their way through anything--turning any event into a magical moment. In short, they were the entertainers of the cat world.

Suddenly, the police busted their way inside the store, pounding their way towards Bert. “No more animals. One kid’s complaining of cat hair in his icing!” A couple of police rounded the counter and swung Bert around, forcing his wrists together behind his back. “These cats poop in the cupcake, and you’ll be done forever!”

“It's not like I'm going to just sit and pet the cats before I bake! Besides, why are you taking me now? I didn't do anything wrong."

"If we spot anything suspicious, we jump right on it!"

Bert fought the police but found himself being shoved inside the car. He took a deep breath and then looked outside the window—Jellies and her friends were right outside the car, tears in Jellies' eyes. "Where are you going?" He heard her yell. "To tell them we can't be your assistants?"

She must've heard me. Bert mouthed I’m sorry. Jellies glowered daggers at him, and then she bounded away, Tang, Shang and Wang all with pinched faces and bristled hair.

I'm sorry, you three! Bert kept his eyes looking backward the whole ride to the station.

After promising everyone he wouldn't hire any more cats, Bert was driven home, blinking heavily, tears in his eyes. When Bert tracked Jellies and her friends down and brought them home, Bert said they couldn’t help him anymore, or he'd be shut down. If he were shut down, his coworkers would mock him until he quit. He shook his head--he made a promise, and he was sticking to it. "No matter how bad things get, I'll never give up."

Widening her eyes, Jellies slowly shook her head. "You're giving up on us." Then she clutched her beautiful grey head with both paws. “No! No! You can't stop making cupcakes. We just want to help.” She struggled to stay calm. "My friends and I--we were living off of stale cat food and lukewarm water for months before you came! Please--don't forsake us." Then she rose up, hair all bristling and Bert blinking and biting his lip. "But now you're doing something that'll get us sent back to that stupid place! So what can we do? We're just losers like you!"

“A kid caught me red-handed. Hair was in the icing." Then Bert turned away, waving a hand. "You’re a cat. Solve your own problem. I need to make those cupcakes!” As he headed to put on his coat, he could even taste such betrayal. But he turned a cold shoulder, ordering her friends and her to stay here. He'd be back soon.

Then he stopped and turned around. "If I bring you to the bakery, will you promise me you'll just be store pets? That's it?"

But Jellies and her friends had slid outside her cat door. But before they could scamper away completely, all three ruby, golden-eyed and beautifully brown cats hissed and panicked as three men barged their way inside. Bert protested to one of them that they were just store pets. The police demanded that they stay home from now on—they shouldn’t even touch the bakery’s hardwood floor anymore! This home would be their home.

That Night

“What’s going on? More cats?”

Bert’s wife gritted her teeth, glaring at Bert. He spat that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. They were his cats, and he was only giving them the life they deserved!

The police arrived. “Where there’s one cat, there’s more! You'll take them back to the bakery. And that's not allowed!”

Bert said they were keeping him company but then shut his mouth. They’d never believe that story. As he was being driven to the station, Bert studied the driver. Then he widened his eyes. “Ernie! From work?” Then he balled his fists and snapped, "Why are you doing this? I'll just have the cats walk around--no, they'll sleep. I made them a bed of their own. You know, you're just jealous. You work all day for what? Nothing. Besides, I'm not going to be nothing." 

“His identical twin. He told me to stop you from disturbing the peace of the neighboring clothing factory, where he picks up his best friend for coffee and a doughnut every Saturday morning. Employees are miffed that you're just making business happen magically. You can’t have your magical cat—”

“That's an excuse. I just want to escape the job that tempts me to quit even when I think about it. I'm not cheating. I thought an assistant would be great. Besides, work is nothing but a pot of boredom. All day long, we help people answer their own questions. It's not quite The Game of Life, you know?” He sighed. "I should have a little fun, right?"

 Ernie’s brother was about to tell Bert magic wouldn't prevent him from being shut down when Bert interrupted, suggesting that jerk Ernie actually stop and think about gratitude for once. At least he had a job. At least he had money to keep from homelessness and starvation. "Maybe if I tell him I work with an unusual cat, he'd be happy and, thus, be able to think about such things!"

After Bert promised he’d include no more cats, Ernie's brother returned him home, promising Bert he'd talk to Ernie. Bert doubted it.

At home, he told them he could keep them. An ecstatic Jellies smiled wide and hugged Bert's wrist as he bent down to pet her. Jellies' friends smiled very small and bobbed their heads in agreement. Then Bert recounted the nightmarish truth: he'd return them to the pound if they were to show up at the bakery. He ran his hand through his hair, sighing heavily as Jellies’ eyes swam with terror. She jumped in front of her friends, shielding them from him.      

Soon, the cats, especially Jellies, soon came to a conclusion: they’d help when they were groomed.

“No! I'm not risking anything anymore. I'm done with these dangerous plots.”

How about when—    

“No help! You all are going back. At least you’ll be together—”

Jellies and her friends nodded sarcastically throughout his little speech. “We need to stick to the deal. Put us in the office--anywhere where we'll matter. Please!”

“The deal doesn’t matter. What matters is that I gave you your friends. Now I need you to listen to me!”

Jellies and her friends started sneaking into the bakery. She secretly whisked the batter and poured the ingredients when her master wasn’t looking. Wang, Tang and Shang all supplied the ingredients and bowls and utensils to make such delicious treats--all without letting one cat hair involved.

To his shock and dismay, Bert heard from outraged buyers that they threatened to burn down his bakery if they saw one more tuft of emerald hair. Bert patiently tried explaining this cat hair intrusion away. Some customers threatened to sue him. One more cat hair, Bert threatened to an apologetic Jellies one night, and you’re out of here! 

“Please—I want to mean something!" Jellies pleaded. I can't go back to that pound. I'll rot in that plastic container. No home. No job. Nothing but—” 

“Look--I have an idea.”

Jellies squinted at him suspiciously. "What are you thinking about?"

Two Years Later…

Bert served Mr. Shoes and his coworkers with a grateful heart, especially Ernie. Although there were times where he just wanted to end it all—take a match to this suffocating pit of a job and burn it all down, roasting marsh mellows in its fire—Bert gifted every coworker with a bright smile every morning and a friendly wave before leaving for paid vacation. Let us all celebrate our little victories over this monotony!  

Pretty soon, Bert’s coworkers started asking him how he was so grateful amidst such a crappy job.

His cupcake business flourished. No coworker would be caught dead eating Bert’s desserts, but Bert just shrugged. He soon named his downtown bakery, Bert’s Desserts. A little slice of joy, he told his wife.

She just nodded.

She threatened to return Jellies and her friends to the pound after discovering cat hair all over her dishes she set out for one of her lavish parties tonight. She struggled to even say good morning or wish him a good day at work. He shook his head every time she came into the room, and shook his head every time she left it. She complained about cat hair on her minx and fox fur coats. They were $1,000 each! She insisted.

Bert and his wife bickered. She boasted of her high salary, luxurious clothes and expensive, lavish parties. Jellies and her friends ignored her by partying to Shang's violin, Tang's trumpet and Wang's trombone.

When Jellies, Tang, Wang and Shang all showed up at the bakery, Bert kicked them out for good. But not before Jellies' eyes grew hard and she told him she didn't think she could stand his wife's whining much longer.

Bert told Jellies and her friends how the wife’s own Siamese cat, Quill—her best and only friend--got stolen by someone after her mother abandoned her one day. If her mother didn't care about her, how could she be accepted? Riches made her beautiful, and beauty was attractive. So her friends and Bert and the cats would see her now--as the woman she was meant to be. Only time would tell when her mother would see her as the beautiful person she never was.

One day, Bert came home with a Siamese cat. The wife, tears streaming down her face, thanked Bert profusely, and sat on the couch all day that Saturday, stroking it. Love gushed through those icy blue eyes. "Oh, Quill! I'll--"

"It's not Quill. It's Feather. But it can remind you of Quill because of quill feather."

The wife stared at Bert and then smiled stiffly. Jellies and her friends told the wife to be grateful for such a loving, understanding husband.

She nodded dubiously.

The next week, Jellies sat on Bert's desk, smiling, her tail swishing coolly. Thanks, Bert. For making me your office pet. For giving my friends a job at the taste-testing facilities. For loving your wife. For helping all of us! We’re eternally grateful.