Plastering the friendliest smile on my face that totally deserves an Oscar, I say cheerfully, “Good morning, Mrs. Roberts! How are you doing today?”
She silently walks to the window separating her from the citizens—me in this case—and plants her ass in the chair.
“How can I help you?” she asks with a glare, totally ignoring my inquiry about her well-being.
“I would love to apply for a permit for the house renovations,” I reply so joyfully I bet I have rainbows coming out of my ears.
“Would you?” She squints and leans forward, placing her interlocked hands under her chin. “Well, you need two sets of plans for that.”
“I have it!” I dig into my purse and produce two sets of papers.
Her smile drops a notch. “Actually, we just got new requirements from the state.” Her smile returns with force. “So you need three copies.”
“Well, look at that.” I click my tongue and pull another copy from my bag, watching her smile falter. “I’ve got another one just in case.” Because I’ve been in this game before and know how much they love sending people on a wild goose chase in a maze with no exit.
I put the papers on the counter and push them toward her under the glass. She picks them up and starts looking at them. I pull one more copy out and push it through to her as well with a wide smile.
“Here is one more. Just in case, you know.” I shrug one shoulder as if I don’t know what ‘in case’ means,you bureaucratic jerk.
Her lips turn into a tight, white line. “You need to fill out an application for the permit,” she says while she’s inspecting the plans in her hand.
“May I have the application form, please? The website said you’d have the updated version.”
“Yes.” She picks up a paper from the stack on the side of her table and passes one to me.
“Thank you!”
I quickly fill out the form and push it toward her. She looks at it and then back at me. “We also need a copy of that.” She nods at the application on the table.
“Great! Could you please make a copy then?” I blink a few times, pretending to be a sweet and slightly dumb Barbie.
When her face slowly stretches into an evil smile, I understand that Barbie is about to step over to the dark side.
“Our copy machine doesn’t work,” she reports with visible pleasure.
My jaw ticks, but I keep smiling. “Well, do you have another one?”
She snorts. “It’s not the big city, Miss New York. We’ve got only one. Come back when you have a copy.” She disregards me by switching her attention to the crossword on her table. My plans have been pushed to the side, along with the other papers.
“Sure thing,” I tell her through a forced smile. “I’ll be right back.”
“Sure you will,” the witch mumbles under her breath and starts scribbling on the crossword.
I grab the application and march outside. Once I’m out, I clench my fists and groan in annoyance. Probably, a bit too loudly, judging by the weird looks people send my way.
“What?” I bark, and they scatter away. As they should—I might bite today.
I look left and right, trying to figure out where I can find a copy machine. There should be some offices nearby. Deciding on the right, I march down the sidewalk. The first stop is the insurance agency. I poke my head inside and call out, “Hello?”
“Yes,” a nice lady of respectable age who looks positively like a fluffy dandelion comes from the back door. “How may I assist you?”
“Hello!” I walk inside with yet another wide smile. “May I ask for a huge favor?”
“Sure thing, dear.” She pads her heavy feet toward me. “What do you need?”
“I need to make a copy of this application. Town Hall’s copy machine doesn’t work.”
The dandelion turns into a Venus flytrap in a matter of a second. Her eyes turn to slits just as her shoulders square back, and she grows a few inches.
