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"Another interview?" Smith immediately realized how insubordinate his yelp had sounded. He raised his chin and smiled. "Thank you very much, Mr. Sergeant. I'm honoured to have this opportunity!" The older wolf gave Smith a patronizing smile. "We won't be inconveniencing you by asking for a third interview, will we? I don't want you to think we're being unfair at all." "Oh, no sir, not at all! I'm grateful that you're still considering me for the position. I'm sure a successful company like Goodfield Mutual Life has to be very careful when selecting employees." "That's exactly right," Sergeant said, standing. "We're one of the most successful companies in the field because we hire successful people. And only successful people; one loser on the team makes us all look bad." Sergeant stopped and watched. Smith realized in a moment that this was the end of the interview and stood as well. Sergeant offered him a big, furry hand; Smith took it eagerly. But Sergeant didn't shake his hand. He grasped it tightly instead and pulled against Smith's pull, holding the younger wolf still for a moment. He brushed at a stray lock of neck fur that was sticking out of Smith's collar. Then he patted a slight bulge in the back of Smith's suit coat where the unbrushed fur on his back pushed out a little. "Your grades and experience are impeccable, young wolf," Sergeant said. "You have the qualifications. I look forward to seeing you at your final interview." "Thank you, sir." Sergeant leaned close to Smith's face. "Take care of the rest before you come, whelp," he murmured. Then he turned Smith towards the door and finally let go of his hand. As Smith was walking out, Sergeant pulled a brush from his desk and took a few totally unnecessary swipes at his own immaculate fur. # Smith booked a third interview with Sergeant's secretary. The elevator door opened almost as soon as he touched the call button. The attendant, an old wolf with grizzled but immaculately groomed fur, pushed a button for him without waiting to ask his floor. "Job interview?" the elder wolf asked. "Does it really show that much?" "I see everyone who works here, pretty much. I never forget a face, either. I've only seen you here once before. You went to the personnel floor then, too. It adds up. Get a third interview?" "You don't miss anything, do you?" "I'd better not, I'm supposed to be security!" The old wolf chuckled. "Mr. Sergeant probably got touchy with you towards the end." (Smith gave him a quizzical look.) "Third interview; they like you, but they have concerns about you. In your case, judging by the loose fur around your collar, I'd say it's because you look like a loser." "Well, he didn't say that.. Hey!" The attendant touched a button. The elevator stopped between floors. He put a hand on Smith's shoulder. "Do you usually just leave your back fur like that?" "Like what? Look, I can't reach it behind me..." "And I'll bet the last time your back fur had a proper brush, your mom did it, right?" "I... Well, I guess..." "Have much luck in college?" "Luck?" "With the girls." "I'd guessed what you meant." "You show me your throat when you talk that way, whelp! Never mind, I know damn well you didn't. Who takes over brushing your back fur when you leave your mom's side?" Smith glared for a moment, but the elder wolf smelled like a fight and he looked tougher than his age. The young wolf raised his chin -- a bit -- and glanced away. "Whoever you go to brushes your back." "And you never found a girl to go to, otherwise your fur wouldn't be so messy now. Didn't your dad warn you to find a girl right away?" "Well it's not that easy, is it? Just claiming a girl, they won't let you do that any more. Anyway, dad's in the navy, he wasn't home much..." "...which is why you don't know the rules. Now listen, whelp. This company doesn't hire losers. With your back fur unbrushed like that, you look like a loser." "So what am I supposed to do about it?" "Fake it." "Huh?" "Go get a back brush." "But those are for losers!" "And what do you call yourself? You don't have a girl to groom you, what do you think that makes you?" Smith felt his teeth baring, but the other wolf just looked at him levelly. He shut his mouth, raised his chin and looked away. The attendant patted Smith's shoulder, then touched a button. The elevator continued down. "Whelp, in this world, nothing succeeds but success. Nothing but success. You're a loser because you look like one. No other reason, not as far as I can see." The elevator stopped and the door opened. "You think about that," he added. # Smith entered the next department store he came to. He asked the greeter for the men's goods section. The old bitch looked him over, sneered and directed him to an exact aisle and section on the second floor. Sure enough, that's where he walked past the store's display of back brushes; walked past because it was directly opposite the women's fashions and there were three girls standing there. He went and stood two aisles away and looked at underwear, glancing furtively at the women's section. When the coast was clear he tried again, walking as nonchalantly as he could towards the back brushes. He glanced again at the women's section; nobody was in sight. He stopped and looked at the things. The store had quite a variety of back brushes; some had natural bristles and wooden handles, others stinky synthetics. Some were carved or engraved, mainly with kindly, matronly figures, a few with attractive girls. The handles came in various lengths. A display sign showed how to judge which size he needed from the length of his forearm. He glanced towards the women's fashions again before checking his arm against the display. There were two girls there. They were staring at him. He quickly looked away. He tried to give the back brushes a derisive chuckle; it came out more like a nervous giggle. He raised his tail high, (which at least partly hid his unkempt neck), and turned away... "Can I help you today, sir!" ...right into a salesman who seemed to have just appeared and stepped, with a slobbering grin, almost into him. Smith stumbled backwards in shock. The salesman, (whose name tag just said Rock), grabbed Smith's arm and steadied him, then forgot to let go. "Can I help you find anything today, sir?" he said, still grinning, in a voice that seemed to carry to the back of the store. "I, I, uh..." "I see you're looking at back brushes sir! May I show you our line of back brushes today?" Still holding Smith's arm, Rock took his elbow and held it against the display. "You'll need a size medium small one, sir!" Rock declared. By this time his grin was so wide that his tongue was lolling. Smith glanced at the women's fashions and would have bolted if Rock hadn't still been holding his arm. It looked as if every girl in the store was standing there, sniggering. "Now this is a nice back brush, sir! It was a picture of your mother on it! Isn't it nice?" "Let go of my arm!" Smith growled. Rock's grip tightened painfully. "Will there be anything else today, sir? You'll need a nice mirror to go with your back brush! You'll need one to see what you're doing while you brush your own back!" By now there were gales of feminine giggles coming from the women's side. Rock was looking down his nose at Smith and positively leering. "Let go of my arm!" Smith snarled. Rock jerked Smith's arm and turned him towards the women's fashions, then marched him down the aisle towards them. "This way, sir!" he commanded. "I'll take you to the cashier and you can pay for your new back brush!" Rock dragged Smith to the cashier, holding the gaudy, smelly, nylon thing up for all to see. He stood in line with Smith, extolling its virtues in a good, loud voice all the time. It felt to Smith as if every girl in the store was staring and laughing. Finally they arrived at the head of the line. Rock thanked Smith for his business, yelled back brush one more time, then shoved him into the check out counter and walked away, snickering. "Cash or charge," the girl at the cash register said, sneering. "I want to complain about that man..." "Shuddup, loser. Gimmee yer wallet." # Smith stuffed his wallet back into his trousers pocket as he walked stiffly out of the store, feeling like all the brushes in the world wouldn't lay his hackles down. The girl at the check out hadn't even offered him a bag; he stuffed the incriminating brush down his pant leg to hide it from the rest of the world. He noticed a tawny-furred wolf girl had followed him out. She paused behind him as he hid the brush and followed him as he walked down the street towards the bus stop. She stood beside him as he waited for a bus to come. "Nice day," she said. Smith felt his teeth bare again; he yawned, licked his nose and closed his mouth. "That brush won't help you," she added. "I don't need your sympathy," he growled. "I have none for losers," she replied, then put a hand on his shoulder as he turned to go. "But I have something that'll actually help a man who wants to stop being a loser." He shrugged off her hand, but he didn't leave. He glanced at the girl, then looked again. She was lean but curvy with smooth, thick, tawny fur. Her eyes were dark, her muzzle slender and her sweet, little nose leather glistened. Her long, bushy tail swished behind her slowly and sensuously. She looked back at him levelly, with confidence in her eyes. Her smile was friendly. He found himself beginning to smile back. "Your bus is coming," she said. (He'd cocked an ear towards it too.) "Or you could come and have a coffee with me and talk about what I can do that a back brush can't. There's a caf