Sweetie Belle sat in her cubicle, quietly waiting for the start of her shift. Some might have thought her too eager, as her job was anything but glamorous… but Sweetie didn’t care. It was a chance!
Sure, singing was a great talent, but it didn’t pay the bills! When nearly one fifth of the ponies in Equestria had some form of musical special talent, the market was flooded with out-of-work singers, violinists, drummers and the occasional sousaphonist.
Not everyone could be a Sapphire Shores, or a DJ-Pon3.
Without a change in the market (say, for example, some mysterious ancient foe of ponykind coming in and wiping out one fifth of the Equestrian population… which—to Sweetie Belle—didn’t seem all that impossible) she would have to find gainful employment elsewhere.
She had applied for numerous jobs, but with no real marketable skills, she had struggled.
When First Equestrian Insurance Brokers accepted her application, she jumped for joy. It had taken months, and she had practically burned through the allowance her sister had given her to help set up.
Finally, she could pay her own way.
She could live the dream (and wait for that inevitable Equestria-sundering disaster) just that little bit longer!
No marketable skills my hooves!
It was a simple job: sit in front of a screen, call the number listed, and go through the script.
Rarity had always had the most unpleasant things to say about… cold callers… but Sweetie would prefer to annoy a few people during dinner than to go without dinner for herself.
The screen in front of her came to life. She picked up the receiver, and dialed the number listed.
“Four eight four,” Sweetie Belle hummed as she punched the numbers in, “five eight nine five six double-one.”
The ringing came out of the tinny speaker on her reciever.
“Hello?” a male voice answered.
“Hi,” Sweetie Belle answered. “I’m calling about a request you once made about health insurance coverage—”
“Okay,” the voice replied.
“—we work with all major companies and compare—”
“Hey,” the voice interrupted. “Are you a robot?”
Sweetie Belle paused. What was she supposed to say to that? The company had been very adamant that she stuck to the script.
She laughed nervously. “What? No. I am a real pony.”
She could hear the stallion on the other end of the line laughing.
“Maybe we have a bad connection? I’m sorry about that.”
“Oh, that’s so crazy, it’s just that you sound just like a robot!”
Sweetie Belle paused. This stallion was very rude! But she had to be polite. Always be polite. That was another motto the company were adamant about.
“I am a real pony,” Sweetie Belle answered, with the sweetest voice she could muster for this horse-apple stain. “Maybe we have a bad connection, I’m sorry about that.”
“Will you tell me you’re not a robot— just say ‘I am not a robot’, please,” the voice on the other side of the phone said. Sweetie Belle could hear the smugness in his voice.
“I am a real pony,” she answered, a little more dejectedly than she should have.
“I mean, I believe you,” the voice said, “but will you just say ‘I am not a robot’. It’ll make me feel better to hear you say it.”
Sweetie Belle forced out a laugh. What was with this guy? Why was he so adamant to get her to say she wasn’t a robot? Robot robot robot. Stupid stallion.
She quickly realised that she had paused too long after that awkward laugh.
“There is a live pony here,” she replied.
“I know there is, it would just make me feel better to hear you say ‘I am not a robot’.”
The conversation was getting rather upsetting for Sweetie now. She laughed nervously, trying not to let the hurt sound in her voice.
“What?” she asked.
“If you could say the words ‘I am not a robot’, it would really mean a lot to me,” the voice answered, chuckling all the while.
“Ha-ha,” she chuckled, “I am a real pony. Can you hear me okay?”
“Yeah, I can hear you fine,” the voice said, laughing loudly. “I just want to hear you say ‘I am not a robot’.”
“Yes,” Sweetie Belle replied, quietly. “I am a real pony.”
She just wanted to end this call. Why was this stallion so mean?
“But will you say ‘I am not a robot’?”
Sweetie Belle forced herself to laugh. She would be nice! She would finish this call. She would get a sale and she would eat more than instant noodles for dinner tonight.
“How are you hold a moment sir.”
Sweetie Belle stopped, resisting the urge to smack her hooves to her forehead. What did that even mean? This stallion was really getting to her.
She waited, but was met with only silence.
“Are you there?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he replied. “I’m here!”
“Well…” Sweetie Belle said, determined to move this conversation along, “…let me ask you a couple of questions. Are you currently on EquestriCare?”
“Umm, no, I’m not,” the stallion answered.
“Okay,” Sweetie Belle said. Finally, she could get—
“Now, let me ask you a question,” he said. “We’ll go, you ask me a question, and I’ll ask you a question. How about that?”
“Sure,” Sweetie Belle said, completely unsure.
“Okay, are you a robot?”
Back to this again.
“No,” Sweetie Belle answered, flatly.
“Will you say ‘I am not a robot’?”
Sweetie Belle opened the door to her apartment, throwing her saddle bags to the couch.
Why did she have to hang up on that stupid stallion. Why did he have to be so rude. Why did the company fire her after one bad call?
She didn’t feel like eating right now. She just wanted to shower, and go to bed.
Sweetie Belle turned the taps on, waiting for the hot water to come through.
“I am a real pony,” Sweetie Belle asked, looking at her reflection in the mirror. “Right?”
