I Can DO This

I've carved out some time between work and my three loads of laundry to paint my toenails. I was thinking of getting them done (more for the foot massage than anything), but that would have required getting into a car and walking more than I am able to right now. 

Fine, I have no problems with doing it myself, the only problem is, it's cold and I'm ready to go to bed, but I'm trapped. Without the magical powers of a warm UV light, my socks-less toes and I have to tough it out.

 It's really rough. They actually feel like they could fall off.

Until they're dry, I guess I'll catch you guys up on what's been going on...

You guessed it! Work!

While you're probably looking forward to having those few extra workdays off this week and spending time with your family, we've been kicking it into beast mode to help you get ready for your holiday. I'm in the middle of a nine-day stretch of work and the middle is the worst. Once I get over the hump of "I'm-not-going-to-make-it" I'll be alright. Hopefully. With a lot of coffee, Advil, and epsom salt.

Miss Carol and I (and a lot of other folks) work hard to make sure you've got pies to fight random strangers for.

Jules is keeping us fueled!

Not pictured are the yummies that coworkers have brought in too! Brunswick Stew, Kalua Pig, Chili... at this point, food isn't just fuel anymore, it's the only thing that keeps me from crying.

So, if you're going to do one kind thing this season, be considerate of the person you're buying pies/bread/cake/cookies/dessert from. Don't ask if it's fresh. Because it is. We were up at 4 AM to make those things from scratch every single day and we stay until midnight to make sure we're prepared for you monsters the next day. 

These are five of my favorite kinds of customers:

1. The Five-Sense-er: Anyone who makes bread will tell you their biggest pet peeve is when a customer picks up their bread and SQUEEZES it, either crushing all of that beautiful crust into smithereens, or leaving a big fat thumb print where their big fat thumb used to be. Don't do it. It's rude. I wouldn't come up to your baby and squeeze it hard enough to leave a dent, would I? No, I wouldn't. We've also got customers who love to sniff. There's a repeat customer who comes in for bread that's constantly sniffing like a Bloodhound. Listen, it's bread, it doesn't smell any different whether it's been out of the oven for 5 minutes or 5 hours. 

2. The Squeeze-It-On-By-er: The person that doesn't take no for an answer. I had someone call asking for a custom birthday cake. I told her it was too late to order one in time for when she needed it. She said, "well, let me just order it in case, I'm sure you can squeeze me in." This happens entirely too often. Apparently 20% of parents don't realize it's their child's birthday until the day of.

3. The Awkward Pause-er: Most customer interactions average 60-ish seconds. Some customers like to call/shout for your attention only so you can witness them standing there and making what looks like the hardest decision they'll ever have to make in their entire life. Vanilla... or chocolate...? I deal with these by putting on the hardest smile I've got while rudely/impatiently tapping my foot underneath the counter where they can't see. Huzzah. Passive Aggressive win!

4. The Let-Me-Ask-My-Son/Daughter: Listen, your 14-month-old doesn't even know what custard means and trying to put "custard" in to terms more simple than "vanilla pudding" to a child that can't even string a sentence together is difficult for me. You're a grown up, this is a decision you can handle. I'm sure you're worried that your child will change their mind about the Spiderman cake he arbitrarily pointed to at the time you had to place your order (probably because he was bored and hated you for dragging him to the store). It will be fine. If coaxing them out of an all-out snotty, teary-eyed, temper tantrum won't work, just shove some cake in their face. It's their birthday, people won't judge you. Icing fixes everything.

5. The Drama Queen: This is the customer who will only work with a manager. The one that makes me come downstairs from my lunch - the only 30 minutes of the day where I get to sit down and do nothing, to take an order for croissants. The same order that anyone else with a pen and the ability to take that pen to a piece of paper could take for them. But maybe it's my handwriting and the authority of which I write with that makes that kind of service seem absolutely necessary.

Rant over. I feel better. Only... not really. At all. Okay, I feel worse that it's just the middle of my work week and this rant didn't help me gain any more enthusiasm for the rest of my work week.

THE HOLIDAYS ARE THE WORST.