It’s a Saturday. One of my only free days away from the wretched app. I try to leave Saturn in the office, and here they are bringing him into my home.
“Are you even listening?” Venus’s acrylic nails clack in my face. “Did you just zone out on me?”
“Sorry,” I say. “Just repeat everything you said.” I smile and she kisses her teeth.
“The customer who complained was one of your first matches. You know, during the…week when…” Vee trails off. Her caution is appreciated but also makes me self-conscious. I don’t remember the week I took over the role of Saturn in detail.
“What’s the complaint?” I wince, bracing myself for the worst. The one thing Dad did tell me, during the transfer ceremony and via his notebook, is that Saturn is hated. People don’t like delays or extra hardship. I don’t like those either, so I get it.
“Just read him one,” Merc says.
I expect to hear all the common complaints. Those I’m prepared for.
I can’t find someone who’s worth it.Not my problem.
I hate having you as the ruler of my 7th house. I wish I had Venus.It’s all fun and games till they’re prettier than you.
I am held hostage by my partners.The lesson here is boundaries.
The first part of the message is typical—how finding love with a Saturn placement is hard. But the second part makes me shift in my seat, clench my jaw, and stare blankly at the resin art on my walls.
Vee reads aloud, “‘And why do you make it so hard for us, huh? Is it because you’ve never known love yourself?’”
My heart aches. Apparently, I approved this customer’s match with my algorithm. They don’t know me, but the words feel like a personal attack. The disgust in the complaint shames me.
“‘You are some slimy, cobwebbed-dick, lonely-ass person,’” Vee continues, and the knots in my back develop their own knots. “‘I know you have never had a love which is whyyoumake it hard forus. I am literally over thirty, post-Saturn return. This shit was supposed to get better. That’s what this stupid, fucking app said.’”
“Not my app,” Mercury interjects.
Venus shoots them a heated glare. “‘That’s what all the astrology people say, and trust me, I did my research. But clearly, no one has ever spoken to big, boring bully Saturn who never wants anything good to happen to anyone. We’re supposed to wait and wait and wait. What thefuckare we waiting for, huh? Absolutely nothing! I tell you because I am a grown woman with a great job and a great social life, but I am still struggling romantically. There is no world where that’s supposed to happen, but clearly, it’s this world because I got stuck with a sadist ruler of my love life. I have a Cancer Venus, so I know I’ll be good eventually, but your delay is not cool. Next time you want to torture someone, skip me. Or better yet, shove one of your seven rings up your ass, experience an orgasm, and leave the rest of us alone.’”
This is my personal hell.
Vee nudges me, possibly to check if I’m still breathing. While she and Merc expected a reaction, I’m sure they didn’t expect this reaction.Ididn’t expect this reaction.
Merc speaks first, as they typically do. “What are we gonna do about it? ’Cause if this gets out, it could be bad. Especially with everything happening with the Board.”
Shit.
Words jumble around in my head, but a coherent response escapes me. My mouth opens and closes like a fish. Their stares pull me in and soon I’m stuck. Vee exchanges a look with Merc, and it dawns on me that they’re waiting for me to say something. I’m about to ask why, but the answer reveals itself before the words form.
I should have a plan because I’m Saturn.
I finally understand why Saturn was paired with Mercury and Venus: for situations like this. Methodical, stickler-for-the-rules Saturn should lead the damage-control charge, but like every other thing related to this company, I’m useless. And at a loss for words.
“I’ll handle it,” Vee says. “I’ve offered the new coaching service to individual clients based on need, and I’d say this qualifies. I also recommend we throw in financial compensation. I usually do that for the most pissed-off folks.”
I surprise myself. “But you should be focused on other clients and working on pairing charts. You’re better at that than I am.” The wheels in my brain spin and I hardly believe what I’m about to say, but it feels right. “I’ll be the coach.”
“What?” Vee says.
At the same time, Merc goes, “That might work.”
I nod, feeling a bit better. I’ll help this customer woman and—the idea pops into my head and it’s perfect—use her as a test subject for my new algorithm. That way, I can keep something like this from ever happening again. I can keep pretending I’m a good Saturn.
“But he’s just getting the hang of pairing people. Let his momentum build,” Vee fires back.
Merc shifts their body to face her. “Couldn’t working with someone individually be better then? To start slow? Probably what he should’ve been doing since the beginning.”
