The Elf And The Shoe Distribution

20250907

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

It was a day where nothing went right, ending with having to take a room at a full human hostel - but one guy said I could crash in his room and didn’t even ask to split the cost, an indignity I was happy to accept at that point.
So I stood at the the desk, which would be awkwardly small for a human but was ungainly oversized for an elf like me, and furiously finished typing up the meeting report. Finally. I could shut my machine down and decompress.
For half an hour, at which point I had to get to sleep so I could get up early and catch the train.
When I plonked myself down on the chair I realised the other occupant - the official room occupant - was reading some stuffy-looking book and watching me out of the corner of his eye. I felt compelled to say something.
“Thanks for letting me crash here.”
“No worries.” He hesitantly set his book aside. “You travelling for work?”
“Yeah. You?” More said as deflection than because I was curious.
To my surprise he looked embarrassed. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
That was… a very vulnerable response. Suddenly I was curious. “Sure.”
“Well, um, actually, I’ve never had a job.” He looked at the floor and rubbed his arm, his mumbled words almost apologetic. “My family’s wealthy. Investments and stuff. And I’m youngest of four kids, a surprise baby, so… my parents want me to become an artist.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to say.
“Yeah, it’s great, I know.” He said, in a tone of aching despondency.
“Do… you… like art?”
“I guess?” His helpless shrug put me in mind of my friends who’d been pushed into business degrees because their families were terrified of them being unemployable. “It’s… can’t complain. I just… I’m not good at it. Any of it. Tried every ‘proper’ art and I suck at all of them. I’m backpacking across Europe to buy me a few years but then I’m going to need to write a literary novel out of the experience and it’ll all come crashing down.”
“Anyway.” He shifted in his seat and managed a smile. “You’ve got a real job and all, right? I mean, that’s a snappy suit.”
“Oh, er, thank you.” While he wasn’t wrong, I’d bought this out of a doll catalogue. Still, a sincere complement was a sincere complement. “Depends if you think shuffling paperwork is a ‘real job’, but I’m in distribution.”
I paused, then admitted something I’d usually skirt around; returning the vulnerability, I guess. And this guy didn’t seem the type to crack “elves and shoes” jokes. “With Bootsbury.”
He actually lit up. Seemed relieved he recognised my employer. “Hey, they do great stuff! You must be, like, a great professional.”
“Oh, well, I try my best.” I demur with practised modesty. “Can’t take any claim for the product quality, after all. I just make sure units go where they need to go.”
He nodded. His expression… respectful. Even impressed. “You sure seemed locked in.”
“Well, that’s why anybody employs elves - we work hard.”
And doesn’t every elf know it.
“Oh.”
Awkward silence descended. Yeah, come to think of it, I wouldn’t know where to go after a comment like that either. To try and get us back on track I went with the question I always asked my classmates who’d been pushed into business; “So, if you could do anything for a living, anything at all, what would you want to do?”
“Uh… god, I don’t know.” Like most of them, he looked like he’d never thought about it before. After staring up at the ceiling for a moment he said “Write comic books? The kind that’s actually fun to read. Or something with video games, maybe. That’s probably easier to avoid ‘getting political’ with.”
“Ah. Your family’s got a, um, specific kind of artist in mind, huh?”
“Yeah. The kind that wins obscure fancy awards and doesn’t ever make waves.” He pulled a face. “Thing is, it sometimes feels like all I learnt taking a creative writing degree is that everything’s political, so…”
“I guess?” I’d never thought about it. “Well… I hope you can figure something out. Even if it’s just as a hobby.”
He nodded. His expression now pensive. “Thanks. I know it’s a stupid nothing problem to whine about…”
“I mean…” I fumbled for a counter and found none. “…yeah. But it sounds like an unpleasant situation to be stuck in. Not the opposite of all those people who want to pursue art but can’t, more like a mirror image.”
“Yeah. Maybe I just need to find one of them and we can put stuff out under each other’s names, or something.”
He didn’t look satisfied with this solution. I certainly wouldn’t be. But I was out of things to say, and struggling with yawns. So I excused myself and made a joke about getting back on the grindstone.
“Hey, at least if you disappeared tomorrow the world would notice. Even if most of them didn’t know exactly what was missing.”
And most people who noticed would just shout at their employees about profits and shareholders. But I didn’t want to pooh-pooh the guy’s sincerity, so I smiled and said “I guess.”
On a whim, prompted by gratitude and pity, I got a business card out of my briefcase and said “So, er, I hope everything works out. But… just in case? I can’t promise anything, but…”
Never have I seen anyone touched to be offered someone’s card. “Are you sure? I have, like, zero real skills…”
“Hey, everyone starts somewhere.” I said encouragingly. “And it’s always good to have a backup plan, right?”
“Yeah.” He slipped the card into his wallet - not the part for receipts and such to throw out later, but where it could be seen. “Thanks, Pip.”
Oh wow I hadn’t asked. I mentally kicked myself and quickly said “No worries…?”
“Leon.”
“Nice to meet you, Leon.”

Prompt was “A workaholic and someone who has never had a job share a hostel room for a night.”