Jonathan told his assistant manager to check the wellbeing of current stock before making his way back into the stock room. Anything could happen overnight, broken limbs from excessive play, emotional issues from watching a sibling get adopted, sudden foal death, etc. It was rare but it was best to be cautious and nip any problems in the bud as stock liked to gossip and it could take weeks of cycling inventory before they stopped spreading poor behaviors. In particular bad cases such as foal murder or aggression towards humans, Hasbio would generally fire management and liquidate the entire stock to start fresh.
He got to the stockroom and began collecting the foal boxes on the old euthanasia table. It was a stainless-steel shelf between two brick walls with a sterile fluorescent light overhead and series of now empty shelves that would once house various surgical tools. It could still function as an emergency first aid station and still did, as when he had to stop the bleeding of a broken horn the previous week.
He put on a pair of rubber gloves, ripped the security seal on a foal box, and began to inspect his arriving stock. He grabbed a blue foal and turned it over in his hand, male, pegasus, no apparent injuries from transport. He set it on the table, and it began to shiver as it helplessly tried to slide his soft hooves across the cold steel to stand.
He repeated the process marking away at a clipboard between each foal: green, female, pegasus, uninjured. Red, male, earth. Pink, female, earth. yellow, female, unicorn, Brown, male, earth. sigh He wondered why they even mailed these out, browns did not sell, particularly earth ones. He joked with his fellow managers that whoever sold a brown earth colt first would get promoted to corporate immediately.
He returned all the foals to the box and began to work on the next one. Just then, his assistant manager, with a nametag that read Anna, came back to tell him the floor stock was fine. âIs this litter ready to go out?â She asked. Yea, put it in the front row. This went without saying. New stock got front row always. Only Alicorns ended up in the back both to keep down on theft and to keep them where most fluffs did not look as the few alicorns were enough to stress out the whole store if they were placed in a pen in the middle.
âYes sirâ she said with half seriousness and carried them out. She set the box in the enclosure and gently tilted it to slide the foals out into the loose bedding of the enclosure. They all began chirping frantically as the new and unfamiliar smell assailed them. This litter had a good color spread except, âohâ, poor guy. She would have to watch him closely as brown foals never took watching all their siblings leaving well.
Anna tapped her finger against her lip, âwho should we stick with you?â She walked around to the third row. The first row was all new litters, unsorted as the smell of familiar siblings kept the blind and immobile foals happy. The second was rotated back stock to make room for the new arrivals, usually about three or four foals of the same litter. The third row was segregated foals, âteenagersâ sorted by color and type. They were much bigger and so while there were maybe one or two that made it this long before being adopted, they required just as much room as the front pens.
The last row was the last chancers, now empty except for the mummahâs after this morning, and the special alicorn enclosure. They were a small story and only had two at any given time. They always sold but the good color alicorns were always reserved for bigger stores or the regional alicorn supercenter.
She selected Pinkie, an otherwise model mono color fluffy, but with a lame leg, slight slur, and a tremor that had unsettled potential adopters. Pinkie was really good with brown foals, and she would also take well with the pink filly as some âmummahsâ got jealous when babies were prettier than them. Pinkie really was a wonderful mare and Anna felt bad that she never got the family that she deserved.
Anna thought back to earlier this morning. She had walked back to the fourth row and looked at the âmummahâ mare hugging her babies, Pinkie was instructed to say goodbye to receive their new litters today. Pinkie looked up at Anna and understood. She hugged the two brown foals left to her and told them she loved them and would never forget them. âDon cwi siwwi bebbehs! Yuu wiww gu tu nyo howm an ged lods oh sgettis!â They looked up at her, âWeawwy?â She smiled back down at them with bittersweet tears in her eyes. âWewwy!â With that Anna carried them back to the stockroom to be boxed up by her manager.
Each mare experienced this heart wrenching goodbye once every two months, although each group of mares was rotated biweekly with the arrival of new stock meaning employees got to experience this every two weeks. Being provided with a new litter quickly helped them forget their sadness though. Anna gently carried pinkie to the front of the rubbing her belly and asking, âAre you excited for your new babbehs?â Pinkie obviously was and was trying to wriggle out of Annaâs hands from excitement.
Anna lowered Pinkie into the pen where she immediately walked up and began picking up and hugging her new foals. She gasped at the brown foal, âjus wike was gud bebbeh!â She noticed the pink foal quickly as well âwook miss Amma jus wike mummah! Pihkeh suu wuckie tu hab aww da bestes bebbes!â
Anna went back to grab the next box; she poured it out and repeated the process. This litter had a brown pegasus filly. Not an immediate death sentence but they usually only sold once they were marked down. Then the next, two brown, one earth filly and a unicorn colt. âJesus Christâ Anna thought to herself. It would have been better to save pinkie for this litter, but it was too late now without traumatizing Pinke and breaking her trust. The last three liters also all had a brown earth colt. What the hell.
After distributing all the mares to their new litters and reminding them that âgood mummahs love all bebbehsâ Anna returned to the stock room. She found John on the phone with his manager just inside his office with the door open. âWhat the hell? Twenty percent of our stock this delivery was brown. Corporate promises less than five. What? I donât want to hear about on average. No. I donât want to get shit next meeting when my sales are down ten percent.â He listened to something on the other end, then slammed the phone.
Anna could only hear one side of the call, but she could piece two and two together. There was a concern across all stores that brown foals were becoming more common, and they just couldnât market them to customers. John looked up at her, she pursed her lips in a sort of understanding smile.