Author's Notes: I was inspired by a specific scene from the novel A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett and the 1995 film adaptation. If you've read and/or watched it, do let me know if you're able to catch the reference! :)

"Everybody! Love! And Peace!"
- Selphie Tilmitt -

My Fairy Godfather

Selphie's work computer houses a folder called Events.

Inside of Events lives an innocent-looking sub-folder called Brainstorming.

Brainstorming leads to a top-secret document called The End.

The End is the code word for her Letter of Resignation.

Yes, that's right!

Selphie Tilmitt keeps her Letter of Resignation close at hand. It's a thoughtfully crafted one-pager with appropriate amounts of enthusiasm for the future and praise for the company in an overall tone of wistful gratitude. All she needs to do is fill in the dates, print, and sign. Nice and easy, right?

The question of when to bust out this decisive piece of paper—her last line of defense, if she's being completely honest—is much harder to figure out.

Patience is a virtue, they say. Dream careers are few and far between, according to the jaded. Be grateful that you even have a job in this dreadful economy, she's been told over and over again…

But she doesn't want to sacrifice her happiness anymore.

There has to be more to life than a steady paycheck.

There just has to be!

"You look good for a Monday."

A coworker once gave her this compliment, and she's taken it very seriously ever since. While the rest of the staff trudges into the office every Monday with morose expressions, Selphie likes to stick it to the man with a fabulous wardrobe.

Today's ensemble consists of an eyelet lace romper and magenta cowgirl booties that she scored in the children's section of her favorite department store.

A guy strides up to her at the parking garage elevator. Well, he's less of a guy and more of a man: forties, crinkly smile, long hair tied into a ponytail, and a laid-back vibe that makes her want to ditch work right now to catch some rays at the beach.

He's kind of handsome.

…Okay, he's really handsome.

She wonders if this man is a new employee or a VIP client.

(As a side note, all clients are VIP clients at Timber Film Productions, making 'VIP' a completely redundant label. People just want to feel important, you know.)

"Hi," says the man, waving a hand in greeting.

"Morning," she offers with a polite nod.

"You look like you know your way around here." His smile widens. "Mind showing me the way to HR?"

"Oh, you're a newbie?" Selphie instantly warms up to him. "Yeah, I can definitely drop you off there."

The man chuckles good-naturedly. "Thanks a million!"

"No problem!"

The elevator never arrives.

"It's broken again," she says matter-of-factly. "C'mon, let's go the alternate way."

The man stumbles after her as she leads him down a couple of levels.

"Uh," he puffs, struggling to keep up with her sprightly pace, "is it always this dark down here…?"

"Yup!" She lowers her voice to an enlightened whisper. "By the way, pro tip from me: you gotta watch out for the drug dealers on the basement level."

The man coughs in surprise. "D-drug dealers!?"

"But don't worry about it too much! We called the police last week so you shouldn't see them again for a while."

Selphie swings open the door to the decrepit staircase. The man looks immensely relieved at the way in—though really, he should be looking for a way out before his soul gets crushed by this glamorous yet deadly enterprise they call the entertainment industry.

"Watch your step!" she advises him with a sunny grin.

Tuesday finds the corporate plebeians in a moderate state of discontent.

Selphie slides into a chair at her usual lunch spot, where Rinoa is listlessly stirring her tuna noodle casserole and Zone is resting his head on the table.

"What's happening, friends?" asks Selphie, stabbing a straw into her fruit punch juice box.

Rinoa anxiously brushes back her bangs and pouts. "I made a mistake this morning, and of course Martine had to scold me in front of everyone like I was five years old."

Selphie makes a sound of disapproval. "Didn't you say Martine is your dad's friend? As in, he should treat you much, much nicer?"

"I'm nothing but a spoiled princess to my dad," grumbles Rinoa. "If anything, he probably told Martine to go tough on me!"

"I'm sorry, Rinny. That sucks! What did Martine chew you out for? Something petty, I bet."

Martine is Selphie's supervisor as well, but only for the interim. The company has yet to find a suitable replacement for Selphie's previous supervisor.

"It wasn't petty this time." Rinoa's lower lip quivers. "I had no idea what the envelope was when I signed for the delivery. The company got served with legal papers!"

Zone's head pops up in shameless curiosity. "We're getting SUED!?"

"SHHHH!" says Rinoa, glancing around the break room with panicked eyes.

"Why am I not surprised…?" Selphie suctions the life out of her juice box before tossing it into the wastebasket with perfect aim. "Also, it's not your fault for doing your job correctly! I mean, how were you supposed to know what was inside of the envelope!?"

"Right!?" groans Rinoa.

"Oh, I just remembered!" Selphie rummages in her tote and hands Zone a small bottle. "You should try this for your stomach aches."

"Thanks, Selphie." Zone peers at the bottle. "Dr. Dincht's All-Natural Remedy For Gastrointestinal Discomfort."

"I've known him since we were kids."

"Cool," says Zone. "Your friend's a doctor?"

"Um, well, no. He just eats a lot of hot dogs."

Rinoa giggles. "I can vouch for that."

Zone looks confused. "I don't get it…"

"Have a tendency to overeat?" Selphie sing-songs like a commercial jingle. "Treat your gut right with one of Dr. Dincht's soothing fruit gummies!"

"I think you should work in advertising," suggests Rinoa. "Or voice acting, if that's more of your thing."

"Maybe one of these days," sighs Selphie. "One of these days…"

"And you should consider standing up to Aki," Rinoa advises Zone. "I know he's at least fifty percent of the reason for your stomach pains."

Zone mooches a bite of Rinoa's casserole. "How DARE you expose my sad lack of assertiveness in the workplace!"

"I'm only trying to help you!"

"Can we trade bosses?" he asks desperately.

Selphie turns to Rinoa with eagerness. "Hey, what's the name of the newbie who started yesterday?"

Rinoa pauses to think. "We haven't had any since last month."

"Oh…"

Maybe Selphie had mistaken the Man with the Ponytail for a client. Perhaps he had gone to HR for some unconventional reason. She would probably never see him again.

What a super-duper-mega-bummer.

The building custodian calls in sick the next day.

The company doesn't have backup staff for janitorial purposes, so Martine assigns bathroom duty to Ms. Rinoa Heartilly, Front Desk Assistant.

Rinoa changes into a pair of beat-up sneakers that she keeps inside of her cabinets at all times. "Thanks for coming with me, Selphie."

"You know I'm on your side!" says Selphie in earnest.

"I can't believe you used to do this by yourself…"

"And I can't believe Dobe does this by himself. EVERY DAY. That man deserves some recognition."

"And a raise," adds Rinoa.

"Preach it, sister!"

Dobe is the building custodian. He's let Selphie in on a little secret, which is that he used to be a research scientist in Esthar. The other employees think he's merely a cranky and illiterate old man. Cranky and old, yes—but illiterate, they couldn't be more wrong. People are so quick to judge when it comes to job titles!

Dobe invites Selphie to dinner at his home once a month. Flo is his wife, and she's an incredible cook. She's also full of interesting stories that Selphie could listen to for hours. Flo has led an exciting life as a caravan hippie, food scientist, and animal advocate. She now works part-time as a professional taste tester (coolest job ever!?).

Selphie brings out the giant trash can from the janitorial closet. She gives the plastic bin a small kick and it judders into place on the dolly.

Rinoa grabs a smaller cart and loads it with toilet paper, paper towels, and nitrile gloves.

There's nothing shameful about cleaning the bathrooms and taking out the trash. Normal people do it at home and it shouldn't be any different at work. Sure, it's admittedly germy and gross, but people view the task like it's The Plague or something. Selphie believes in the goodness of manual labor and shows her appreciation to blue-collar workers whenever she gets a chance. She's never thought of herself as being above them.

Apparently nobody else feels the same at Timber Film Productions. Her coworkers like to jeer at the sight of the trash can on wheels or crack lighthearted (but still hurtful) jokes at the girls' expense. Are Rinoa and Selphie lovable only when they're sitting upright at their desks while shyly batting their eyelashes at visitors and politely fending off telemarketers?

It takes them a while to get through the entire building: four all-gender private bathrooms on three floors for a total of twelve units.

Neither of them have ever had the privilege of visiting the fourth floor, which is the President's office suite. It's rumored that he has his own full-sized bathroom with a copper tub and mini sauna.

"So who's our new President, anyway?" asks Selphie. "Management's been so hush-hush about it."

"No idea!" Rinoa shrugs. "All I know is that he works mostly from home…"

Selphie pouts. "Lucky duck."

"Poor Ward! He's probably bored out of his mind on the fourth floor. But at least he doesn't have to run around getting fancy hipster coffee for the President."

"Ward is super fun," says Selphie with a grin. "Sometimes I challenge him to online Triple Triad when I run out of stuff to do."

Rinoa shakes her head in wonder. "I wish I could make friends as easily as you."

"Um, hello? Everyone loves you."

"Well…they love the image of me, I guess? I don't know how to get past that. I want to open up to more coworkers but I've heard so many horror stories about workplace betrayals!"

Selphie nods in understanding. "I know what you mean. When I started out in your role, it took me a while to separate my company image from my personal image. And you're totally right—some people will step all over you just for a chance at a promotion!"

Rinoa and Selphie work together to hoist the giant trash can over the edge of the dumpster.

Rinoa's feet are on relevé even though she's a bit taller than Selphie. "Gosh, this thing is sooo heavy!"

"Heave-ho!" cries Selphie.

When their arduous task is complete, they look at each other with worn-out expressions.

"SO OVER IT!" they declare in unison.

Thursday is the second-most popular day of the week. In fact, the employees don't call Thursday by its proper name anymore. Thursday is officially 'Friday Eve.' The entire workforce lives for Friday Eve, Friday, and the glorious but too-short weekend…

Selphie spends her Friday Eve attending to the needs of two well-known movie producers and ten employees from Timber's side. It's a long meeting in the conference room so she has to take care of set-up and clean-up for both breakfast and lunch. Normally Rinoa would be able to help with the heavy lifting, but with the other Front Desk Assistant suddenly taking a personal day off, she is glued to her workstation without so much as a bathroom break.

By three o'clock, Selphie loses all sensation in her arms—the dishwasher was acting wonky so she had to clean everything by hand.

She hears someone come into the office but is too tired to say hello or ask if they need anything.

But then it gets a little too quiet, so she peers over the top of her cubicle to see what's going on.

Ultimecia, the latest hire, is standing in front of the copier and slowly moving her fingers in the air as if attempting to control the machine.

Selphie calls out, "Need some help?"

Ultimecia turns around, startled and blinking. Her tattooed face has a rather jarring effect, but at least she's improved her adherence to the workplace dress code.

Selphie hops up from her chair and walks over.

"Need to make a kopy," mutters Ultimecia in her thick accent. "Kan you show me…?"

Selphie verbally goes over the steps with her.

Selphie has a wacky theory that Ultimecia got swept up in some kind of time warp and landed in the wrong century. In her mind, Ultimecia is from the future, where people don't need computers and phones anymore because all of that high-tech stuff exists inside of their minds.

The future is a place where it's fashionable to wear plunging necklines and dark body paint and bold hairstyles resembling horns.

The future also appears to be sparsely populated, because Ultimecia gives the impression that she doesn't know the first thing about making friends.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome! So, um, how do you like working here so far?"

Ultimecia's frown disappears, apparently surprised that someone is striking up a longer conversation with her. "I am very thankful to the President," she begins slowly. "Without his kindness, I would not have a job…"

"Whoa, you know the President!?"

Ultimecia nods.

"That's so cool!"

They chat for a bit longer.

Selphie learns once more that it's possible to connect with anyone if she just approaches them the right way.

Even the supposed outcasts!

Both Rinoa and her counterpart are unexpectedly absent on Friday morning.

Selphie plasters on a smile as she covers front desk duties. She's come to learn that her position as the company's Event Coordinator is less about events and more about putting out random fires around the office. Some days, she's okay with it. Other days, she's annoyed by it—but she would never show her annoyance to Rinoa because that girl is the truest friend that Selphie has ever had in her three years at this workplace.

Selphie's multitasking skills are pushed to the limit as she expertly transfers phone calls, directs visitors, and processes client paperwork in between her own research for the company's upcoming anniversary party.

She's engrossed in a detailed comparison of catering prices when Biggs and Wedge from the Visual Effects department wander past her, their conversation reverberating in the lobby.

"Why the heck do we have to do the President's grunt work, anyway?"

"I think it's an honor to be asked to help, sir!" replies Wedge dutifully.

Biggs waves a hand dismissively. "The man has zero experience in this industry. Zero, I'm tellin' you. And we're supposed to put our trust in him!?"

"I don't think that's entirely true, sir. Apparently the President got his start as a young actor! His first role was in this old B-movie where he played a dashing knight…"

Biggs snorts in derision. "Oh, and I suppose he fought a dragon, too?"

That's the fascinating thing about the front desk: whoever sits here automatically becomes a repository of information, whether or not they enjoy being up close and personal to everyone. Selphie honestly didn't start out as a nosy person but she's pretty much been shoved into this work culture. She can roll with the punches, of course, but wow does it get tiring! The trickiest part is deciding what information leaves her mind and her mouth. She has to think on her feet and guard what and whom she can. If that means acting slightly ditzy at times, then so be it.

"My job does NOT define who I am!" she whispers fiercely to herself.

The next month can only be described as a madhouse.

Selphie spends most of her waking hours prepping for the company's anniversary party.

The flu ravages the workforce but she forges ahead despite her sickness. Even Rinoa's dog, Angelo, gets the flu.

Someone in HR goes on maternity leave, and Rinoa finds herself being frantically cross-trained in complicated HR laws and employee benefits.

Zone grows dependent on Dr. Dincht's gummies. Rinoa finds him a therapist to deal with his work stress.

Selphie gets invited to Dobe's house again. Flo makes them delicious beer-battered fish and fluffy pistachio cake.

Ward gives Selphie a miniature cannon just for fun. It comes with real gun powder and tiny cannon balls. She obviously can't unload it at the office, but when she feels frustrated during her workday she imagines herself going plinking out in nature with her new toy.

Selphie teaches Ultimecia (now "Ulti") hip and youthful slang to fit in with the others.

Biggs decides to quit and go freelance. He ends up taking Wedge with him.

The drug dealers return to their favorite haunt. Selphie gets the idea to shoo them out of the basement level with a stink bomb. The results are wildly successful, if annoying to her coworkers who park their cars in the structure.

All of Timber Film Productions buzzes about the President with growing intensity. Who is this near-mythical figure, and when will they finally get to see him in the flesh?

The Man with the Ponytail that she encountered at the elevator turns into a distant memory…

She supposes there's no time for daydreaming anymore.

She has to work her way up that corporate ladder.

Selphie's day can't get any worse. Seriously, it can't.

She's just read the company-wide email announcing that there will be layoffs tomorrow due to a failing budget.

A failing budget means that they have to cut out non-essentials.

Non-essentials translate to fun events.

And the company anniversary party is canceled, just like that. It's such a shock that at first, her brain doesn't even register the reality of her hard work going down the drain.

She gloomily spins around on her swivel chair. In the background, her coworkers are reacting to the news with high-pitched whines and excessive door-slamming.

She's just…

Tired.

Tired of trying to impress people.

Tired of trying to gain an advantage.

Tired of trying to make it big.

Most of all, she's tired of slowly losing herself in the process of playing this corporate game.

During the lunch hour, Selphie quietly retreats to the rooftop to clear her mind. Most people don't know about this sanctuary because the only stairwell leading up to it is located in a dusty hallway that's used primarily for storage.

She sets down balls of colorful yarn in a neat little row.

Then, she steps back to the edge of the roof, fires up her miniature cannon with a lighter, and shoots her targets with no mercy.

BANG!…BANG!…BANG!

The explosive noises are her emotional release.

For now, this is the only way that she can think of to cope with the awful news.

The next morning, Selphie drags her feet into the building toward her unknown fate. Somewhere in her mind, an organ is playing sepulchral tunes. Losing her job would be a setback just as much as it would be a relief. She doesn't even care what happens next. She just wants to get this sentencing over with.

The elevator doors open onto the main floor and she gasps until she runs out of oxygen.

The lobby has been transformed into a jungle paradise replete with palm fronds and grassy backdrops. A real toucan swoops past her with a squawk and settles onto the wooden rafters above her. Oversized balloons in every shade of green are floating delicately through the landscape like tropical tumbleweeds. Her coworkers have flower garlands around their necks and are laughing with each other in euphoric spirits.

She walks in a semi-trance to the administration office where her cubicle is. There are even more people here, mingling around a long table running through the center of the room. She is delighted by the party sub in the shape of a boa constrictor, the vegetable-and-dip platter crafted into a lion's mane, the safari-themed sheet cake that looks like a mural…

All of her abandoned plans for the company anniversary party are on display! Not only that, but the artistic vision surpasses her original!

Selphie doesn't question who did it, how they did it, or why they did it.

All she knows is that there's magic in the air.

She is tickled pink with wonder and joy.

Surely she must have a Fairy Godmother who's looking favorably upon her right now!

Rinoa runs up to her breathlessly. It's the first time Selphie has seen her freed from the shackles of the front desk.

"Management sent out an updated email early this morning!" says Rinoa excitedly. "The President found a way to cover the financial deficit for three more months while he looks for more clients to sign on. It's not a complete guarantee, but at least nobody's losing their job today!"

Selphie jumps up and down with her. "Rinny, this is amazing news! No wonder everyone's so darn happy!"

"By the way, how did you pull off—" (Rinoa waves an arm around the office) "—all of this, you superwoman!?

Selphie grins in manic confusion. "I didn't!"

"Huh?"

"It wasn't me!"

Rinoa raises her brows. "Then who…?"

"Ms. Tilmitt."

Selphie chokes at the sound of her supervisor's stern voice. Rinoa apprehensively clutches onto her arm.

Martine flicks a supercilious gaze on his charges. "I don't know what kind of trick you're trying to pull here."

"There are no tricks!" exclaims Selphie innocently. "Please believe me—"

"I never gave you clearance to carry out this event," he all but snarls.

Fairy Godmother, where are you when I need you!?

And then Selphie sees the Man with the Ponytail walking toward them, his smiling radiance parting the crowd with ease.

He stops in front of the trio and extends a friendly hand to Martine. "Hi there! I'm Laguna."

Even crabby Martine is swayed by the Man with the Ponytail's natural charm. "Uh…hello."

"I hope you don't mind that I used Ms. Tilmitt's event plans to throw my own celebration." Laguna winks at Selphie. "Please think of it as a much-needed morale booster for the employees!"

(The Man with the Ponytail is her Fairy Godmother—er, Fairy Godfather!?)

Martine looks offended that Laguna has bypassed his authority. "Say, I haven't heard your name before. Can I ask what your role in the company is?"

He nods proudly. "I'm the President of Timber Film Productions."

(Her Fairy Godfather is the President!?)

An awed silence descends upon the room and the adjoining lobby.

Laguna glances around and laughs self-consciously. "Oh, I didn't realize people were listening in on our conversation…" He waves his arms over his head with enthusiasm. "Hey everyone, I promise to stop by and meet you all one-on-one over the coming weeks! Now go back to the party and ENJOY yourselves, yeah!?"

There's an immediate uproar as people circle around to schmooze with the man of the hour.

Later that afternoon, the President calls Selphie up to his suite on the fourth floor.

If nobody is getting terminated today, why is she being summoned by the big boss? Is she the only one in the company who's being summoned?

Selphie is so nervous that her hands are trembling. The aftertaste from Dr. Dincht's gummies lingers on her tongue. She waves timidly at Ward, who gives her an encouraging thumbs-up. She knocks on the President's door, holds her breath, and waits for a response.

"Come in!"

The office is huge but on the bare side. She can see that he has started to fill in his shelves with personal items. Her favorite is the photograph of a lovely young woman in a white turtleneck sweater.

She marches up to his messy desk with clasped hands. "Sir," she gulps.

"Just 'Laguna' is fine," he tells her with a warm smile.

"Sir Laguna," she says formally. "Thank you for reviving my jungle party idea. It really, really meant a lot to me."

"Hey, it's nothing! Well, maybe not nothing, 'cause I forced—uh, I mean politely asked—Ward and Kiros to help me with the setup." Sir Laguna scratches his head. "Hey, I just realized you don't know who Kiros is! Well, he's gonna be the company's new financial advisor starting next week. Hopefully he can help me get the books out of the red."

"That's wonderful," affirms Selphie. "You, Ward, and Kiros brought my vision to life in the most amazing way!"

"You're full of talent, Ms. Tilmitt." Sir Laguna leans onto his elbows in an effort to be casual. "Do you have any interest in building a career at Timber Film Productions?"

Her eyes bunch together in a frown. "Um, well…" She drops her gaze to her toes. "I like movies just as much as the next person, though I wouldn't say that they're my number one passion."

Oh my gosh, now I just sound like an ungrateful brat!

"Please don't misunderstand me," she continues hastily. "I do like it here, I do! I've gained so much work experience and met tons of interesting people. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I can't pledge my allegiance to film for the rest of my life."

It's better to be honest, right?

Maybe she's just imagining it, but Sir Laguna looks a bit disappointed. "I completely understand."

Tears are suddenly welling up. It's as if she's holding back the cumulative stress from three years' worth of corporate slavery. She hopes that Sir Laguna doesn't notice the change in her facial expression.

"If you decide to stay," he says gently, "just know that I'd love to have you on my A-team."

"Thank you, Sir Laguna," she manages to whisper.

On the elevator ride down, she makes a very important decision. She appreciates the President's generous favor toward her, but…

She finally gets the assurance that it's the right time to move on from this place.

Word gets out that Selphie Tilmitt has handed in her Letter of Resignation.

The End at last!

For the next two weeks, she is bombarded via every form of contact possible. People line up at her cubicle just to talk to her; people offer to take her out to lunch; people email her silly memes, give her handwritten notes, and blow up her phone line. She didn't realize how popular she was.

Every single person asks her what she's planning to do next.

She answers that she needs a break from full-time work and a chance to recover her health. Time and space for herself. She's been running fast, and she wants out of the rat race for now.

Some people get it and some people don't. The latter tribe of people stare at her like she's gone bonkers, but hey—she's not going to sit on her butt all day and fritter away her savings account! She has a list of practical goals, though she doesn't feel obligated to share them with everyone and their mother.

Her last day of work is surreal.

She hugs Rinoa goodbye—but it's not really goodbye, because they've promised to meet up for regular brunch dates.

She exchanges numbers with Ulti.

She gets her final paycheck.

She turns in her security badge.

And she accelerates out of that parking garage without looking back.

Selphie is finally free.

It's a Sunday morning.

Selphie has claimed a cozy table at a new coffeehouse that just opened up in Timber's shopping district.

She's noshing on an açaí bowl and watching a floral arrangement tutorial on her laptop.

Her body has never felt better. She has a healthy appetite and sleeps at least eight hours a night now.

Her mind is being challenged with new skills. In just a short amount of time, she'll be ready to soft-launch her event planning business. Rinoa will be her organizational maven and Flo will be her catering partner.

The sun is shining through the window. The warmth of this summer feels marvelous.

The sun disappears. Someone is blocking it.

But the person blocking it is his own source of light. His heart is big and silly. His soul is pure and earnest.

Selphie looks up to see the handsome face of her Fairy Godfather smiling down at her, and the sight of him makes her beam with joy.

"Ms. Tilmitt!"

"Sir Laguna!"

The End