Guest Post: Pink Lemonade Diva
One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one's work is terribly important. ~Bertrand Russell-Oh yes, this is a series. To be concluded on Wednesday or when every other sentence isn't 'holy motherfucker'. Today's guest post is brought to you by the lovely Pink Lemonade Diva.
My milkshakes bring no one anywhere
Not a long time ago, I went into a McDonald’s to order a McFlurry and the cashier looked me in the eye and told me the machine was broken.
Karma, it seemed, was having the last laugh.
I have a confession to those in the
But when you’re 16 and working at a national chain yogurt franchise, you’re not interested in giving the customer what they want, rather what’s easiest for you to make.
And that was – always – a small (cup) single flavor with no topping.
And even though the pre-made ice cream sandwiches in the freezer would seem like a preferable option, we made them by hand every time the supply got low, so please not those either.
Yes, I was not the Super Scooper I purported to be and now, as a mature and responsible adult, I’d like nothing more than to find that franchise owner and apologize for being such a sludge. I would also like to apologize for not locking the door at 8 pm exactly even though those people walking through the parking lot were clearly heading into your store to spend money, and, not least, for being caught by the mystery shopper for wearing sweatpants instead of a uniform pant, although I’d like to know how the hell that person caught that detail. I’d apologize for making up our own names for flavors and for the time my friends came into help clean up and sampled the flavors without using new sample spoons. We should also probably apologize for the trivia contests we’d hold offering winners a free topping, but that was just to make the shift a little more interesting – no one buys ice cream or frozen yogurt in winters, as the franchise owner later found out.
I probably should apologize for that Styrofoam tip cup that we put out to earn a few extra dollars each shift, but the one thing I will never apologize for, however, was for letting the customers in the back to customize their own Happy Birthday cakes. Calligraphy with icing is a bitch, and at least when it looked crappy, the customer had no one to blame but themselves.
So just a warning: if you’re ever given the special opportunity to write the custom happy birthday message on the sheet cake you’ve just purchased, know that A) the person behind the counter has shitty handwriting, and B) it’s amazing what those icing roses and balloons can cover.
And to all those kids with tip cups for college funds on the counter of their ice cream shop – I promise to never order a peanut butter shake, and I’ll always give you the spare change.