there wouldn't be after school without her

anonymous asked:

I'm rlly torn because my manager just left and it feels so empty without her that I actually cried on two separate nights about it (after the fact). But the downside is that I have some memories from the school year where she wouldn't acknowledge me until I sold a credit card on my shift. I love her so much, yet I know maybe she didn't treat me so well afterall?

Vivian Wigley, Creator of the Owl Postal Service. Great Britain.

“Miss Wigley, why would you possibly think training owls to work as postmen would be a good idea?”

“That’s too broad of a question,” Vivian had snapped, and although the question was asked by her colleague, she spoke it into her pet owl Lucy’s neck. “There’s plenty of good reasons. Why wouldn't I train owls, that’s the question.”

Her colleague, an educated man by all accounts, moved forward in his chair and adjusted his glasses.

“Because they are animals.”

“Smart ones,” Vivian said, “Brilliant ones.”

“Because we can use magic.”

“Harsh magic that can’t be used by children!” Vivian cried. “What of when they go on holiday, or to school? Going months without hearing from a child is devastating.”

“They are predators,” his colleague continued, slowly, “And will go after mice. Get off track. They are wild.”

“How dare you,” Vivian said, perhaps too indignat, “Domesticated owls are no more wild than you are. Fed well, and they won’t go after mice just because of their instincts…besides, we have magic to persuade them to get from point a to point b.” The owl gave Vivian a satisfied nip on the nose, to which Vivian paid no mind to.

Her colleague sat back, gripping the chair and shutting his eyes.

“It seems very frivolous, Vivian, to use your wealth to establish a service of bird letter carriers.”

“It’s not frivolity, it’s a just system,” Vivian said, her demeanor more confidant as her colleague’s became more defeated, “One that will allow thousands of people who can’t afford messengers or can’t be giving their location out to muggle mailmen to communicate, you know.”

Her colleague let this sit for a while, before nodding, a somber but convinced nod, as the ridiculousness of the situation somehow gave way to his logic. “But why owls?” he asked. “Why not pigeons or doves, or bats or canaries?”

Vivian pursed her lips, looking Lucy up and down, and then for the first time looking her colleague in the eye.

“Owls are cute.”

Mrs. S. Wandsworth, 7th of November, 2014