The Time I Tried To Help With Etsy Orders

Maria says running a small business is all about organisation.

Personally...

I think it's about snacks.

But apparently that's why I'm not allowed near the packing table anymore.

It all began one Tuesday morning.

The printer was behaving.

The Cricut hadn't thrown one of its mysterious little tantrums.

The postman hadn't arrived yet.

Everything was...

...suspiciously calm.

Maria smiled.

"I've got twelve Etsy orders today."

Twelve!

That sounded terribly exciting.

"So..."

I asked.

"...do you need an assistant?"

She looked at me.

Then at the orders.

Then back at me.

"...No."

Now...

Some people might hear that and think,

"Perhaps I should leave Maria to work."

I am not some people.

I decided she was simply too polite to ask.

So I helped anyway.

The first parcel looked easy enough.

A magnetic bookmark.

A thank-you card.

A little sticker.

A free gift.

Simple.

I proudly picked up the bookmark.

Unfortunately...

Dragon claws are surprisingly enthusiastic.

The bookmark attached itself...

...to my glasses.

I couldn't see anything.

I staggered backwards.

Straight into a pile of tissue paper.

Which immediately wrapped itself around me.

"I've become a burrito!"

Maria looked up.

"...How?"

"I'm not entirely sure."

Once I'd been rescued from the tissue paper...

I decided to help with the stickers instead.

There were hundreds of them.

Cute dragons.

Books.

Coffee mugs.

Tiny stars.

I thought it would save time if I peeled lots of them off the backing paper first.

This...

...was another mistake.

Within moments...

I had a sticker on each wing.

Three on my tail.

Two on my nose.

One somehow attached to my ear.

And approximately forty-seven covering my hoodie.

I looked magnificent.

Maria disagreed.

She gently removed the stickers.

One.

By.

One.

Which took...

Quite a while.

"I think we've learned something today."

"Yes."

"Stickers love me."

"That wasn't it."

While Maria packed another order...

I spotted the shredded paper.

You know...

The pretty colourful stuff that goes inside gift boxes.

It looked...

Fun.

So naturally...

I fluffed it.

A little.

Perhaps...

A lot.

One enthusiastic flap of my wings later...

Pink paper was floating through the workshop like festive snow.

Some landed in open parcels.

Some landed on the printer.

Some disappeared into the hallway.

One piece floated outside.

The neighbour later found it in their hedge.

Maria simply closed her eyes.

"I don't suppose..."

"...any of that can be put back?"

"I believe in us."

Eventually...

Everything was tidy again.

Mostly.

That's when I noticed the labels.

Now...

I've watched Maria print postage labels hundreds of times.

How difficult could it be?

Answer...

Very.

I pressed one button.

Nothing happened.

So I pressed another.

Still nothing.

Then...

I pressed all of them.

The printer suddenly came to life.

Labels began shooting out faster than I could catch them.

One landed on my face.

Another wrapped around my tail.

Several decorated the floor.

One somehow attached itself...

...to Maria.

She slowly peeled it off.

It said:

Royal Mail Tracked 48

Across her forehead.

I tried very hard not to laugh.

I failed.

"You know..."

Maria sighed.

"I think today's lesson is that helping and watching are two different things."

"I was supervising."

"You were absolutely not supervising."

"I supervised the printer."

"The printer disagrees."

By lunchtime...

Every order was finally packed.

Every label was attached.

Every bookmark was accounted for.

Almost.

"Maria..."

"Yes?"

"I appear to have posted one to myself."

She looked at my hoodie.

A magnetic bookmark was clipped neatly to the pocket.

"...You can keep that one."

Best day ever.