Buttercup, a former carriage horse, interviews at the local precinct

Thanks for coming in today — can you tell me a little about yourself?

Sure, yeah. Well — where to start? My name is Chris, but everyone calls me Buttercup. I worked for 20 years as a carriage operator — started as an intern and worked my way up — and got screwed over by the mayor, so here I am, trying to switch things up so I can support my wife and kids but I have to compete with young college graduates who have fresh degrees and spritely neighs and shiny manes, so now it’s like, is there even a fucking point?

Wow, OK. I’m sorry. Awful way to introduce myself. I’m just, I’m bitter. You know? Between you and me, NONE of us saw this coming — we were in a union for God’s sake, and de Blasio goes and executes the shit out of our jobs.

Alright, Jesus, my wife’s gonna kill me if I screw this one up. Fourth interview this week and if I don’t get this, I gotta move the family upstate to my brother’s farm, which is, just … a freakshow.

Let me start over? My name is Chris Hemmings, but you can call me Buttercup. I am interested in working at the precinct because I live in the neighborhood and I totally admire what our officers do to make our ponies feel secure.

Great, thanks Chris

Buttercup is fine

Sure. So can you tell me about your time at New York Carriage Company? Just an overview is fine — I can imagine what your day-to-day was like.

Um. Alright. Can you tell me what the hell you mean by “I can imagine what your ‘day-to-day’ was like?” Can you? Because every single workday was different . Can you imagine this “day-to-day” when sometimes it’s raining and sometimes it’s snowing, and other times your body temperature reaches 200 degrees and yet you still continue unphased? How about the days when you accidentally crash into an innocent jogger because your equine vision is severely limited by blinders? Oh, what about that time I pulled a family of 12 up the entirety of Central Park West because they didn’t wanted to be separated? Pft. Day-to-day, my ass. Try playing it cool when you’re expected to warm the hearts of millions of riders ranging from newborns to great-grandmothers.

I’m sorry. I just meant that your 8-page resume kind of lays it all out for me. You even listed who you ate lunch with every day at 1 pm and where you —

Martini and Panther. My two best work friends. Every. Single. Day. We ate lunch together behind the Met. Our spot. Everyone called us the “dumbasses,” and we were, they were right, but we were hardworking dumbasses. You see, once we finished our carrots, oats, whatever, our hooves were back on the pavement, schlepping babies around that park for another 6 hours. Did I complain once? No, and you know why? Because seeing the look on a 5-year-old’s face when he’s bundled up in a blanket with Grammie in my carriage — that brings me pure, unadulterated joy.

Ok — I like that you were so dedicated, and would love to see that at the precinct. Can you tell me about a time that you stepped into a leadership role at the New York Carriage Company?

I mean, yeah. I considered my whole career a “leadership role” but you’re obviously looking for a specific event to write down in your little notepad there. OK, sure. In 2008, a blizzard hit the city in mid-December. Peak holiday hours. Go figure that the company wanted to shut down operations for a week, so you know what I did? I looked at my boss — Marshmallow — and said, “Nuh-uh. Not on my watch. People come to Manhattan every year for our rides, and you’re gonna let them down because of two feet of snow and a -15 windchill? Honey, you’re in the WRONG business if you think you’re gonna get away with this.” So Martini, Panther and me — we powered through the blizzard. Didn’t give any carriage rides, zero, but the fact that we were there … I would call that the pinnacle of my career at NYCC.

Ok, so why do you think you would you excel at the precinct?

I’m a people person, which is an obvious one because I pulled them around a big-ass park for 20 years. I think that would be my guiding force at the precinct, as most of the job here is just, being on display while 7-year-olds come up and touch me without asking and Mom does nothing about it and instead dicks around on her iPhone. Or she just apologizes weakly but doesn’t stop the kid. “Oh my god, I’m sorry,” she says. “He just watched that movie Spirit last week.” I see it all the time and I know it can get to a horse. Never have I ever, and never would I ever, kick a colleague, a client, anyone, nor would I even think about lashing out verbally. I’ve seen guys at NYCC, they crack — a cute kid comes up to touch ’em, and they just lose it. Awful.

Thanks, Buttercup. It says here that you did a couple side gigs at the Sterling Renaissance Festival, and that’s how we recruit a lot of our guys. Who do you know there?

Oh yeah — actually that’s where my wife and I met before moving to the city, and we just kept going back for a few years. Really good crew. My supervisor there was Licorice — did you know him? He passed about five years ago, bless his heart.

Yep — I knew Licorice very well. Thanks. OK. Do you have any questions for me, Buttercup?

Yeah, I do. Did this precinct ever consider switching from automobiles to carriages? I could go on about the benefits of a carriage-based police force, you know you’ve got safety, carbon emissions, uh, you’ll definitely save money, they are incredibly aesthetically pleasing. And honestly, I could slide into a “leadership role” if you let me lead that initiative, sir. You know … at NYCC, but the other places too, like Central Park Horses, Carriage Horse Network … I’ve got tons of contacts.

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