//------------------------------// // 216 Making Preserves // Story: Tales from a Con // by Admiral Biscuit //------------------------------// Making Preserves The public job board was located near the rotunda—Cherry Jumble had been around long enough to remember when it was only for public notices. Mayor Mare had decided that asking for day laborers was a public notice, plus it drew more ponies to the board to read the meeting minutes and missives from on high. Indeed, she skimmed the board as she searched for a spot to hang her flier. There were no new town rules Cherry Jumble needed to concern herself with, and the ratio of ponies looking for temporary work and ponies needing temporary work was well-balanced. Cherry Jumble decided to tack her flier over Tealove’s Tea Appreciation Tea Party notice—that party had been last week, and she hadn’t bothered to remove her flier. Some ponies didn’t. That complicated things for everypony else. Cherry Jumble always made sure to remove hers when the job was fulfilled. She took one last look at the board and then trotted back home. It was kind of stressful not knowing if somepony would read the ad and want to come and work, or if she’d be working alone.  ••• The entire kitchen and dining room—and living room—were filled with supplies; jars and lids and every pot she owned or could borrow. A large part of her yearly profits would be made over the next few days, and assistance was welcome. Cherry Jumble couldn’t sit around and wait for somepony to arrive, she needed to start making preserves right away, when the cherry harvest was at its best. She started loading logs into her work stove, a cast iron monstrosity she’d bought cheap from the hospital when they upgraded to a newer one. She tossed a few logs in and set the dampers, then started arranging pots on it. Most of the year, this stove served as extra counter space. It was too much to just cook for herself. And that left her with her other stove to start making the jam. She started putting the ingredients for her first batch together and then frowned as she noticed a familiar shadow crossing in front of her living room window. Sam, Ponyville’s resident monster, was walking down her street. She’s usually at the miller’s, Cherry thought, and then an awful realization hit. Sam was looking for a job. Cherry viewed herself as a progressive mare. Unlike some, she hadn’t freaked out when Twilight arrived, bringing a baby dragon with her. She’d never feared Zecora like some ponies had, and she’d thought that as long as Sam stayed in the Everfree forest—and later, Ginger’s woodlot—there was nothing to worry about. Now she lived in a house on the other side of town and that was probably okay, although a lot of ponies grumbled about it. Sometimes she went to market with Teff and Einkorn, a pair of stallions who also worked part-time for the miller. She was a progressive mare, she wasn’t going to scream and gallop off when she saw Sam on the street, but as she heard a knock on her door, she frantically tried to decide what to do. CHOICE >hire her, everypony says she’s a good worker (hero) >tell her you’re not inviting a monster into your house (villain) >pretend not to be home until she leaves. (chaos) [CHOICE A: Hero] It was an unexpected situation, but Sam came looking for work and there was plenty of work. You’d heard talk from ponies who’d hired her before or knew somepony who had, and they all said she was a hard worker, a fast learner, and had very dexterous paws. If she wasn’t a good worker, nopony would hire her a second time. Cherry slid the pot to the very edge of the stove, just to make sure that it wouldn’t overheat and burn as she answered the door, then she trotted through the living room and the little foyer—really, more of a nook—and opened the front door. “Hi, I’m Cherry Jumble,” she said. “And you’re Sam.” Sam nodded. “Have you ever made or canned cherry preserves before?” “Not cherry specifically, but when I was a kid I helped my grandma set down preserves.” Cherry Jumble grinned. A lot of ponies had never done it and had to be taught; having someone with experience helping would make the job go a lot faster. “Come on in and I’ll show you what you need to do.” [CHOICE B: Villain] Maybe if it was an outside job, it would be okay. Something not delicate, something like chopping wood like Sam did for Ginger Gold. Plus, she couldn’t invite just anypony into your house. Especially somepony who was maybe a monster and stuck up as well—Sam wore clothes everywhere, like some sort of Canterlot unicorn with noble airs. She slid the pot to the edge of her stove, to make sure it wouldn’t burn, then went through her living room and pulled open the door. “Hi, I’m Sam,” she said, sticking out a paw. “I know,” Cherry Jumble replied bluntly. “I’ve seen you around town, working in the woodlot and at the miller’s. I—” she hesitated, trying to think about the best way to say what was on her mind. “This isn’t really the kind of task you’d be good at, it’s not exactly a physical labor job.” “Your ad said making preserves.” “Yeah, exactly, and I wanted help more in the cooking and less in the carrying around jars and pans.” “But I can—” “I’m sorry, i should have been more specific in my ad, but you’re just not who I want helping.” Cherry wrinkled her muzzle. “You could try Honey Dipper, she’s always looking for somepony to help her.”  Cherry pushed the door shut before Sam could offer another protest and trotted back to the kitchen, where her first batch was starting to burn. She sighed. Some days were not good days. [CHOICE C: Chaos] There was no way that she could let Sam into her house, let her touch her work. That was the kind of thing earth ponies were good at, and only earth ponies. Unicorns would curdle the preserves with their magic, pegasi and stoves didn’t mix at all and who knew what a monster might do? But she was a progressive mare who didn’t hate Sam and didn’t begrudge her trying to make a living working odd jobs and it was rude to tell a pony directly that you didn’t want them to help you when they came around and offered. The solution was obvious—just pretend she wasn’t home until Sam gave up and left. Cherry Jumble gritted her teeth as the knocking resumed. “Hello? Is anybody home? I saw your ad.” She kept quiet, and left her post for a minute to close the curtains in the kitchen. Slowly, so the movement wouldn’t attract attention. Just in time; she heard Sam speak again, practically outside the kitchen window. “Hey, excuse me, is this Cherry Jumble’s house?” “Yes, why?” That was Tealove. “She was advertising for help to set down preserves, but she’s not answering her door.” “Huh, that’s weird. She’s usually home for days when she’s making preserves.” Cherry Jumble’s ears turned as the voices moved to the edge of her property. “Maybe she had to trot out and get more supplies,” Tealove suggested. “Tell you what, why don’t you sit on my front porch and have a nice cup of tea while you wait for her to come back.”