My job is simple. 

 

Walk into a store. A supermarket, or a bookstore. Find the section that says “greeting cards” or “birthday cards”. See those cheesy one-liners that read something like “you have olive my heart”? All me. Every week, I enter the conference room with ten other people, mostly men, with twelve or so ideas for the front of greeting cards. Usually, one or two will get green-lit, and they’ll be sent to manufacturing. They’ll get mass-produced, slapped on thick cardstock that is way too pink next to a glittery cat or a heart. It’s boring, sure, but it pays well. Turns out that if there are two things people like, it’s semi-clever puns and easy ways to prove they didn’t forget someone’s birthday or anniversary. 

 

That is why, I could probably open my own store with the plethora of cards I received from my last seven birthdays. I got variations of “have a grape birthday”, “hope you have an unbeleafable birthday”, and the classic “happy birthday!” from friends and family who thought it was a hilarious idea since I worked in that particular industry. For Valentine’s Day, my boyfriend couldn’t be bothered to get me flowers or chocolates, instead opting for a red or pink card. To his credit, each year, the card did get increasingly more intricate and therefore expensive. Last month, it was a pop-up card in the shape of a heart! How romantic.

 

I’m one to talk as if I don’t gift someone the occasional greeting card. After all, there is a card for every situation. Are you sick? Have a “get well soon” card. Or perhaps you’ve just been a wonderful friend, so for no reason at all, here’s a “thank you for being a great friend” card. Sometimes, I think I am wasting my life. I have a degree, for God’s sake! Every card I receive from so-called loved ones is a taunt, a slap in the face. I graduated with honours, and all I have to show for it is the ability to come up with puns, usually food-related. Not exactly something you can list in your “special skills”.

 

It pays the bills, and that’s all that matters. It’s a good thing, I suppose, that people are drawn to glitter. After all, why else would the greeting cards aisle sell out every holiday? Even the basic ones. People would do anything to not have to write a handwritten, personalised note. It’s our fault, really. We really shouldn’t make the cards so appealing. Everyone succumbs, even those in the industry who know it’s nothing more than a cheap scam. In fact, I’m convinced that some of the higher-ups make up fake holidays to boost sales. And it works every time.

 

My job is simple.

 

Work hours are flexible and workload is almost non-existent. When my boss calls to ask me to come in early, I am a little confused but don’t question it. We are in the conference room, and there are thirteen men and one other woman. One of the men stands up, promising that his announcement will “change our lives from then on”. There is a new holiday. The room erupts in excitement. This means more money! A new creative outlet! Potential wholly untapped! We divide into groups, with the intention to start brainstorming ideas and wordplay. We are lost in our eagerness before I realise that the most important information has been omitted. What is the date? What is this new holiday? A good question, my boss says. The holiday takes place on the fourth of June, which leaves us a whole two months to plan. Still, he does not answer my second question, so I repeat it. What is this fantastic new holiday?

 

He hesitates, and the room quiets. It’s real.

 

I am unable to move. Everyone around me resumes their planning. What are some intelligent puns relating to death? Is it too crass to have a picture of the Earth engulfed in flames on the front? 

 

Because the fourth of June, is the day the world will end.