100% Real Juice: Mary the Jewellery Fairy

Awhile ago, I was at your local overpriced department store in search of fortune. Quite literally, too. I was looking for a fortune cookie keychain.

I'd seen it in a brochure for the store, and knew I had to have it. It was small, it was shiny, and perfect for my house keys. Best of all, it was a fortune cookie that actually opened. Something small and stupid that had my name written all over it.

Said local overpriced department store is a large, crowded place at the best of times, digs that Posh & Becks would frequent if they ever came to town. And so it was crowded that morning when I walked through its impressive, gilted doors, picture in hand and idea in mind.

This isn't typically the place one goes to for keychains. It's the place one goes to for $5,000 blouses, and exfoliant at $200 an ounce. Thus, asking for that $20 fortune cookie keychain not only garners a) contempt from most employees working on commission, but also leads to b) a total disdain for your very existence, and a complete lack of help.

After a half hour of asking here and there, I was shuffled off to the jewellery counter. I was fully prepared to give up right then and there, leaving the store without my fortune, when a fabulous, bespectacled, "my hair is auburn, not red" saleswoman greeted me with a huge smile. She was bedecked in vintage clothing, and glittered with baubles and personality from head to toe. Eyes sparkling, she looked right at me and said, "Mary the Jewellery Fairy at your service."

My stint in the retail world was short, and I do not miss it. You wouldn't either if you were paid minimum wage to act like a zombie. Standard intros were, "Can I help you?" or, "What can I do for you today?" This jewellery fairy stuff was completely left field, and from that first second, Mary had my attention.

I showed her the keychain picture but it was nowhere in jewellery, or anywhere in accessories at all, for that matter. I'd been in the store long enough at this point, or so I thought, and bid Mary adieu. No fortune for me today.

I turned and made my way out, but Mary caught me by the hand and said, "Just a few more minutes. Let me see what I can do."

This is when Mary started to make calls to this department, that department, the stockroom on the second floor. I tried to say that she needn't go to all that fuss for something so small and insignificant, but she wouldn't hear it. Twenty minutes later, a stock boy in jeans and a t-shirt gave Mary a small white box, which she in turn handed over to me.

In the box was my fortune cookie. I thanked Mary profusely, especially for going to all that trouble. Really, this wasn't exfoliant at $200 an ounce. Not even close. But then Mary looked me dead in the eye and said something I'll never forget: "Never take 'No' for an answer. A woman never should."

When I got home I took my keychain out, and opened it up. Inside were two tiny dice, with inscriptions on every side like, "Wash the car," or Polish my shoes."

Love dice, or in this case, servitude dice. Not my style. Since I had no intention of making my beloved roll dice to serve me, I threw them away.

I still kept the fortune cookie though, but something else is inside it now. After tossing the dice, I got a small piece of paper and wrote down on it, Never take No for an answer. A woman never should.

It's folded up and inside the cookie, dangling from my house keys. I carry it with me every day.

Fairy godmothers are scarce in this day and age, but when you meet one, take her advice. Thanks, Mary.