Anxiety and Build-A-Bear

I did not enter the endeavor totally naïve to the Build-a-Bear workshop phenomenon. I have heard nieces, children of friends, and wailing mall kids discuss the furry creatures. I've listened to a story (told many times, many ways) from my parents about their victory in fighting a customer for the last white persian on the day of it's release in 2005, and I have (with the click of the mouse) purchased a Build-a-Boxer and pup online, complete with dog bed and puppy-sounds to be shipped to my niece for her birthday a few years ago. I have seen the carnival-like shop in the mall, and the lines forming outside during the holidays. So.... While I knew Build-a-Bear was a big deal, I really didn't KNOW Build-a-Bear was a big deal.

Until now. After hearing from my mother that my youngest niece was still counting how many Build-a-Bears she had vs. her older sister, (for whom stuffed animals are somewhere down the list behind Juicy Couture, Coach, and Lacoste, at this point), I decided a new furry addition would be the perfect Christmas gift. Since I had procrastinated, it was too late to go online and click together a special friend, so I planned my outing to the Build-a-Bear Workshop.

I went on a Wednesday at 10:30am when it would not be too crowded and the volume of children would be at a minimum. That was success #1. The store only had a few adult browsers. My first choice was what to get. The new Penguin? White Puppy? Pink Kitty? An actual Bear? Immediately, the solution presented itself. On the wall I saw a beautiful white Hello Kitty. Success #2. My niece and I share a love for the furry feline—this was a no-brainer.

So I walk over and reach up to retrieve the kitty, to discover it was only a display kitty. Looking down I noticed the barrel of naked Kitty Carcasses. I picked one up, and at that moment from behind me I heard, "Welcome to Build-A-Bear, Can I help you?" I held up my kitty skin and said, "I'd like to get one of these." At that point, my friendly salesman giggled with glee and said, "Super, would you like a sound for your Kitty?". Even though Hello Kitty has no mouth, I chose a simple meow. After choosing the meow, I had to decide whether to put it into the right or left paw; suffice it to say, I was not prepared for this decision—but justified the left paw, because my niece is left handed. My niece uses her left hand to eat, cut, etc, and her Hello-Kitty emits a muted mew when her left paw is squeezed. Makes perfect sense—right.

The salesman then escorted me over to the stuffing station and asked if I would like to "pump and do the honors". "No, Thank you", I replied. He then proceeded to plump up Hello Kitty with a nozzle of fluff activated by a foot pedal. He pulled her out and asked me, "How does she feel?" To which I truly was unsure how to reply...soft like a pug's ear? plump like plum? Bloated like a corpse? How the hell am I supposed to know? So I said, "Perfect, She feels perfect." And just when I think the hard part is over and kitty was ready to go, I was informed that it was now time for me to pick a heart—white, red or purple were my choices. AFTER choosing purple, I was informed that purple hearts are an extra dollar ands would go to support Build-a-Bear Charities.


And while usually I won't put a penny in a can of an organization that's social, political and religious views I have researched, at this point—the dollar could go to the National Coalition against Pugs for all I cared. I just wanted out. And what can you say at that point? "Oh, I'm sorry---a dollar is going to charity—never mind then. No heart for me!"

So the employee then asked me if this was a gift (Ummm...really?)
And who was the gift for? (My niece).

So he said that I needed to put the purple heart to my forehead close my eyes and make a special wish for my niece. I closed my eyes and thought, "I hope you have a special Christmas, enjoy your new school, and most of all that I don't have an anxiety attack and pass out in this pile of Build-a-Bears behind me before I get out of here with this fucking Hello Kitty."

When I opened my eyes the employee told me I needed to "twirl three times" and while I felt like a good sport so far....quickly I said, "That's okay." To which he replied, "Well you've AT LEAST got to kiss the heart." So be it. I kissed the heart because even if I didn't twirl three times, and I'm pretty much a non-eliever, just in case...I did not want my niece's Kitty to be devout of her magic, alchemy, and soul.

The salesman put the Find-a-Bear ID tag in, and asked me to insert the heart. He stitched Kitty up and asked me if we needed to go to the "Puffin' and Brushin' station" (there was a Tub with an air hose and some paw-shaped brushes.) I almost asked him if I was supposed to puff and brush? Would my niece know if I didn't? (I was still feeling guilty about not twirling 3 times).

Using my better judgment I skipped the "Puffin' and Brushin' station" and took my naked kitty to get clothes. This was madness. Hello Kitty had her own line, there were designer clothes and shoes, purses and cell phones, hats, sports gear—you name it, you could find it. After nearly 30 minutes of searching for the right outfit, I chose to stay with the Hello Kitty line of clothing. (The salesman also made me buy undies because "Kitty can't have an exposed bottom").

Another clerk came by and asked me if I needed help dressing Kitty at the changing table. "No, thank you, I'll dress her at home." She asked, "Are you sure?" as if I was either incompetent or a complete pervert. "Yes, I'm sure." "Great", she said, "let's get you to a computer for the naming process and birth certificate." "No, thank you", I said.

"Okay then…." She muttered as if I would regret my decision later. And would I? What if not registering your stuffed pet was a Build-a-Bear faux pas? The store clerk rung me up and said, "You make sure she gets a name and don't forget to dress her from the bottom up." And with that, Kitty was placed into her "Cub Condo" (box), and we went home.

So that night, I dressed Hello Kitty from the bottom up (I discovered this was because her head was too fat for the clothing). I did my own little Puffin' and Brushin', and sealed her up to travel from the Carolinas to Connecticut. It made me a little sad to part with her since we had been through so much. And while she may be just one of many presents under the tree, and another animal to add to the count. She was my one. A kissed purple heart and special wish to travel the distance of miles—to find connection, family, love.