Jeannie's Wishes

What if your wishes could come true?

The shameful ones and the virtuous ones, with no limit or repercussions?

What would you wish for?

And do you deserve it?

Bespectacled with a black helmet of hair – Olga Osborne was small, insignificant and compact, much like her existence. She trudged through life without family and friends and her oddness caused people to give her a wide berth. It was 1997 and Olga’s job was bland and monotonous; every day she filed papers for a big nameless, shapeless insurance company. Policy documents, receipts, copies of contracts – an endless, flowing stream of meaningless paper.

But beneath this dull ashen life, Olga knew there had to be more. Her life of drudgery couldn’t be all there was. Like glowing embers hidden beneath burnt logs, she sometimes allowed herself to daydream about a new life for herself. One filled with sunshine, colour and warmth, surrounded by friends and laughter, music and fun. A life of rapturous joy and thrilling abandon. Olga wanted an adventure – a life-changing, earth-shattering, mind-blowing adventure.

But she was trapped in her rat wheel of a life. Bills to pay, papers to be filed. The motivation to change her life had seeped out of her over time, diluted by the monotony of her existence. Any vibrancy that peeked through was smudged out.

One ordinary day, as Olga was bent over a filing cabinet shoving papers and forms into the drawer, her manager stomped up behind her and barked another command. 

"There are missing fields in that last claim form you left on my desk. You’ll need to sight the receipt, and the hard copy has to be signed by the claimant personally."

As always, the manager felt Olga was so superfluous, that there was never a need for common courtesy.

Olga stood and faced her manager’s imposing form. She looked up and stammered slightly, forcing her voice to sound more robust than she felt.

"Sure, of course, happy to. But, umm, don’t we have agents to go out and get these forms signed?"

"I’m sorry," the manager sneered sarcastically, "do you have something more important to do?"

Olga looked down at her tiny feet, and wished she could just melt and disappear into the carpet tiles.

The manager then sighed, perhaps realising she was bordering on being abusive and could be reported.

"Look, Olga, I don’t have time to send through the request for an agent. They’re so lazy anyway, they’d probably get around to it in 6 months. I’m away on holidays next week and I want this claim off my desk ASAP."

‘Dammit, she remembered my name’, Olga thought, ‘I’m obviously in her sights until this is done… I guess I don’t have a choice’.

On the bright side (if there was one), this chore would get Olga out of the office. Pathetically, this was the only change of scene she would get for the foreseeable future.

Olga caught the bus to the address on the form, and while she bumped along, she read through the paperwork.

The business was called ‘Jeannie’s Wishes’ and it was owned by Jeannie Jones. There wasn’t a website, email address or phone number for the business: simply a street address on the fringe of town. Olga felt the business statement was obscure at best, but also somewhat intriguing;

“We safekeep wishes and manage their facilitation. We do our utmost to ensure our customers enjoy an optimal experience with long-lasting results. We believe our service is second to none and no matter what the cost, we guarantee satisfaction.”

The insurance claim was lodged by Jeannie herself. An unhappy customer of ‘Jeannie’s Wishes’ had complained, saying that the company had not been successful in “facilitating (their) wish”, and they were extremely dissatisfied. To uphold the guarantee, Jeannie compensated the customer and felt that her business insurance should cover these costs. Part of Jeannie’ claim was for a purchase of “equipment” she had made as part of this compensation. Thus, the need for Olga’s excursion to sight the receipt.

Olga thought the nature of the claim was definitely odd, however it wasn’t her job to review it - she just needed to get the information and file the completed folder in the Claims drawer between ‘Je’ and ‘Ji’.

Once she arrived at ‘Jeannie’s Wishes’, the building looked nothing like Olga had imagined. It was a non-descript shopfront without any signage and the façade was blonde brick the colour of dirty sand. The windows and door had cloudy aluminium frames and Olga could see slimline aluminium blinds through the windows, their symmetry punctuated by missing slats. She leant on the swing door, dragging it across the grimy carpet and walked towards the empty reception desk.

There was a doorbell button which was sticky taped to the counter, and when she pressed it, a hollow electric tune echoed faintly down the dark corridor behind the desk.

"Hang on," came a voice, "I’m coming."

Olga heard the puffing before she saw the dark cumbersome shape amble towards her. This must be Jeannie, thought Olga, as the older woman emerged from the corridor. Her wiry hair escaped wildly around her slightly shiny face, washed-out grey eyes peered through tiny gold framed glasses, and she had a slightly incongruous smell of sweat and icing sugar.

"Hello dear, what I can I do for you?" she wheezed.

"Hi" said Olga, "I’m so sorry to bother you. I work for the insurance company and I’m here about your claim. You were actually rather difficult to reach."

Jeannie smiled and looked over the rim of her glasses.

"Well, we can’t have every Tom, Dick and Harry finding us, can we? Imagine! I’d be so busy fulfilling wishes; I’d never have time for a decent cuppa."

Olga tilted her head. None of this made sense. Was this woman crazy?

Olga then continued, as professionally as possible and guarding against any condescension creeping into her voice.

"Well, I’m afraid I need to sight the receipt you’d mentioned in your claim. We also need your signature on the claim form so we can process it for you."

"Oh goodness," said Jeannie, "I’m not even sure where to start looking for that receipt. Are you sure you can’t just say you saw it?"

The older woman’s eyes peered at Olga through the tiny oval glasses.

Olga looked past Jeannie and into the open office behind the reception desk. A thick layer of dust carpeted the tops of the desks and there was a strange silence. Not a soul could be seen, and desk chairs were pushed out at odd angles as if the sitter had just stepped away and simply never returned.

Olga really didn’t want to stay here much longer. She wanted to return to the boring comfort of her own familiar yet droll office. But despite her antipathy about her life, Olga didn’t take short cuts; there was a process for everything, a dull structure that provided her with consistency.

"I do apologise for the inconvenience, but I’ve been told to sight the actual receipt. Perhaps you have it filed somewhere?"

Jeannie puffed out a laugh.

"Golly, if it was filed, I could find it for you myself. No, I’m afraid it’s somewhere in the back room, but I must admit, it’s quite a mess down there. Are you absolutely sure you need to see it?"

Olga had so few opportunities to stand her ground. No one cared about her opinion, nor was her approval sought. Now that she was a gatekeeper of sorts, she had to admit - she almost enjoyed it.

"I’m terribly sorry, but I really do need to see the receipt. If you could point me in the right direction, I’d be happy to sort through and see if I could find it", said Olga.

Jeannie sighed.

"Well, if you’re sure you need to see it, you’re very welcome to try and find it yourself."

Jeannie’s voice suddenly became stern, which was strange coming out of this sweet little old lady trying to catch her breath.

"However I must insist that you respect the privacy of my customers. I would very much appreciate it if you could refrain from searching through the folders on the shelves. The receipts can be found in the desk at the back and that’s the only place you’ll need to look."

Then her faded blue eyes became as dark as rolling thunder clouds.

"It’s imperative that you follow this rule."

Olga swallowed the suffocating lump in her throat and vigorously nodded in agreement.

Suddenly Jeannie’s eyes and voice lightened like break in a freak thunderstorm that disappears in minutes, leaving Olga wondering if the ominous warning ever really happened.

Jeannie turned down the corridor and Olga hesitated before she realised that she was supposed to follow.

The corridor smelt musty, and the walls seemed to have a greasy dullness. Olga began to doubt the wisdom of her decision to stay. At the very back of the building, they stopped at a door with a frosted window and “LIBRARY” was written on the glass in flaking gold lettering.

Jeannie leaned against the door and held it open for Olga.

"Here you go – this is our private library where we keep all the records of our customers. The receipt should be in the desk somewhere, although I do think that you might have some trouble finding what you’re looking for. I’ll be just down the hall keeping an eye on things."

And with that, Jeannie rolled down the dark corridor.

Olga held her breath as she peered into the blackness, but the smell of mice permeated her nostrils. The air was cool and still, and her skin tingled. She patted her hands around the doorframe looking for the light switch and turned it on. Fluorescent lights flickered momentarily and then decided to reveal the room.

Heaving metal racks lined the walls from floor to ceiling, laden with muddy coloured compendium files bound with elastic and ribbons. They reminded Olga of rows of rotting teeth. At the base of each shelf was a strip of disintegrating white masking tape, noting the alphabetical letter for the files on that shelf. A single wooden desk with a cheap desk lamp was at the far end of the room, piled with more books and folders on each end.

Curled and browning sheets of loose paper were scattered across the floor, and Olga picked one up;

Wish No: GG 26754 (COMPLETE)

Name: Gertrude Green

Address: 23 Ravens Road, Hallows Wood

Age at registration: 67 years

Wish details: To dance at the wedding of her granddaughter Beatrice.

OFFICE USE ONLY

Date of facilitation: 29 July 1978

Facilitator: J. Jones

Costs incurred: $346

Memory deletion: Complete

Olga was stunned.

Was this real? Could your wishes actually come true?

Her head began to spin.

Surely this was a con. How many wishes are here and why had she never heard of this place?

Olga began grabbing random folders and files from the shelves, flipping them open and skimming through the pages.

Wish No: RL 45987 (COMPLETE)

Name: Russell Leaves

Age at registration: 7 years

Wish details: To ride his bike to the shops by himself

Wish No: BB 56321 (COMPLETE)

Name: Betty Betts

Age at registration: 15 years

Wish details: To go on a date with Paul Peterson (rated PG)

Wish No: KW 78622 (COMPLETE)

Name: Karen Weston

Age at registration: 48 years

Wish details: The death of the neighbour’s dog who barks at 3am

All these private, secret wishes listed in dirty, forgotten files.

How did it work?

Why would anyone believe it could be possible?

Olga walked towards the tatty desk at the back of the room, sandwiched between the towering shelves. She switched on the lamp and went through the papers. Receipts from purchases made over the last thirty years were squashed into the drawers and spilled onto the floor and desktop. She started to rummage through them, almost to appease her conscience, and then gave up. She would never find the receipt she was looking for.

Olga reached to switched off the lamp, and then noticed a brown hardcover book, hidden underneath the endless piles of paper. She paused, pulled it out and began to read.

Jeannie’s Wishes

Employee Instruction Manual

STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL

Information in this book is highly confidential and cannot be shared with others.

Section 1

Procedure to fulfil customers’ dreams/wishes…

Six months later

Olga looked up at the billowing white sails of the yacht and marvelled at their contrast against the cobalt blue Aegean sky. The dazzling sun was warm as her auburn hair danced around her face in the light breeze.

Stavros stood on the deck, tanned and tightly muscled. He beckoned her to join the group, waving his champagne glass at her and smiling. In fact, everyone was smiling or laughing.

Possibly because Olga had found herself in a secret library and discovered a secret book. She stole that secret book and now she wouldn’t need to endure a bland existence ever again. Nor would her friends, although the memory deletion process would ensure they never really understood how they found themselves together, living this amazing life.

As she breathed in the salty spray, Olga realised she couldn’t remember what grey looked like. Although Olga had retained her memory in the wish fulfillment process when applying it to herself, she’d purposely forgotten the greyness of the past.

Everybody knows that insurance companies are where dreams and wishes go to die, and Olga believed she deserved better.

The music pumped as people playfully pushed each other into the warm waters below. Olga turned to Stavros and gave him a cheeky wink. She untied her pink bikini top, pushed down her bikini bottoms and leapt off the boat into the glistening azure sea.