A bakery.
I have many emotions running through my mind, heart and body tonight, let's see if I can keep this focused.
Where was I?
Right.
A bakery.
What the hell is a bakery?
Sorry. I need to stop for a moment. This is seriously difficult.
Okay. Through the miracle of the written word, you have no idea that I took a few hours to blast music, eat a piece of chocolate...which i rarely do...talk with my best friend about some dance plans...and now I'm back.
I can't worry about being poetic or any such stuff here.
Nope. Tears. Gosh. This is hitting me hard tonight.
I need to go to bed. Too much coffee, too little food and too much emotion in this day. watch the heading for edits, I'll work on it in the morning.
Right. Where was I?
I've worked at a bakery for a few years now. For some reason, I'm feeling very impatient with the idea of providing all the back story, possibly because it really doesn't change anything.
It's shutting down. In a week we'll close the doors for the last time. It's not altogether a surprise, but it's been sprung on everyone, officially, very suddenly. That it's been hemorrhaging almost since it opened is a fact, but we've made so many changes, streamlined, cut staff, cut hours, cut everything, and business has been picking up in the form of large cake orders, etc. I could go into all of the inconsistencies and obvious issues, but I'm not going to. Not here, not yet.
Last night the owner came in. She and I talked some very real facts and much of the facade scraped away to show what was really going on. There had been the "hope of a christmas miracle" put out as a panacea...I didn't buy it, at all, and last night that was verified. Financially, yeah, it'll hurt. But I'll figure it out, always do. It's just more.
This place. Just a small space, not a necessity in the reality of living. But in the bit of time that it's been open, we've been a part of a great many people's lives. They've come to us for weddings, funerals, graduations, anniversaries, births, birthdays, retirements, staff meetings, charity fund raisers, engagements, parties of every conceivable kind...
Some of us knew each other well before this all started, some of us were complete strangers. 3 of us were put together as the core team before the place was even finished, and over the years others have come and gone, but for a few, we've become family to each other. Mar, my dear friend. Aspy, who has become a dear friend and who moved recently, breaking all of our hearts. Blaine, who came on in her place, and is just as much a dear as any could be. The 2 decorators on board right now, precious and talented...
This is disjointed, I know. My thoughts are swirling, caught in a wild whirl of emotion. This place was the first outside job that I had after the divorce became final, and for awhile it was full time. I had continued on with my own businesses for some time before, but I needed more and knew that I needed to get outside experience again.
On the surface, some see the bakery as a glamorous place to work. Make fancy stuff, play in the kitchen, lalala. And it is, to an extent. It's also hard work. Working out recipes isn't a light thing to do, it takes some knowledge of ingredients and how they mix, how the different ovens work with the same, moisture content, flavor ratio, etc etc etc. It's also, let's face it, food service. Sanitation, dishes, laundry, scrubbing, rotating, inventory, etc etc etc. But that's really not the point of this.
We've had such a privilege given to us, that other businesses don't experience in the same way. The best way is just to give examples and let you see for yourself.
A week ago a young couple came in to the shop with a specific question...could we do a gender reveal cupcake for them? Well, yes, we do them often, I told them. Good. They had an ultrasound scheduled soon and would be in touch with the particulars.
Great. They were cute, excited. They left and I hoped they'd be back.
Wednesday night they came in. I recognized them, smiled, asked how they were. They were happy, that I could see, smiles as big as they could be. The woman asked if I remembered them, I replied that I absolutely did, and at that the man handed a card to me. I took it, question on my face, and held it while I waited for an explanation. I wasn't as ready as I thought.
What I held in my hand was a card that contained 2 photographs. The photos were from their ultrasound, they said, and were turned in backward so that they wouldn't accidentally see anything. They had just left the doctors office and had come straight to the bakery. Could we make their cupcakes, 2 of them, for pickup the next day?
Their gender reveal cupcakes. To tell THEM the gender of their baby.
They'd been waiting a long time, they explained. There had been fertility issues, they weren't certain that there'd be another baby in their future, so they were packing it all into this one. Ah. Of course.
We talked about what kind of cake, frosting, etc. The center would be vanilla, naturally, as it would need to be colored either pink or blue. Talked about pickup time.
And then, with those big big smiles still on their faces, they left.
I waited until they were well gone before I opened the card that I'd been holding. I took out the 2 photos, turned them over and started to cry. The most beautiful pictures of a baby, a perfect perfect baby, curled and safe, sucking a thumb. They hadn't watched the ultrasound, they didn't want to be tempted to guess. Who had seen these? The tech. And now me.
Me. A worker in a bakery.
I stood there, just taking it in. We've had these things happen before, of course. The surprise cupcake with a ring inside of it. The consultations with someone, usually men, who needed a "please don't kill me, or worse yet, hate me and refuse to leave" offering. The worn out wife, stopping by in hopes of finding something for her husband, who was feeling a little neglected because her work schedule had been a bit insane lately. The young man who came in last June to order his own graduation cake and who insisted on dedicating it to his mom. He paid for it on his own, planned out the cake as a way of acknowledging his step out of childhood and into the first phase of adulthood, and to honor his mother for all that she had done for him. The funerals. The SuperBowl parties. The Thanksgiving treats. The "yay, you did great at school!" rewards...the woman who was so ill with cancer and couldn't keep much down except for our orange brownie, and for whom pans upon pans were ordered and made and taken to her when she became a hospice patient. The regulars we grew to love, and to miss when they weren't so regular. The kids, after school, with no place to go to get out of the rain. The Grandma-to-be who came in to pick up the cupcakes her daughter-in-law had ordered, with directions to call when she got there. She was on the phone as I brought the box out, and I could hear the dil telling her to try one, make sure they were good. She rolled her eyes, grumbled a bit, took a bite and squealed when she saw the bright blue filling...she got the message. And I was there for that.
No, this wasn't new...but the realization that the opportunity to share these things was leaving my life, and what it has meant to me, was. The definite reality.
I, at times, felt like a bartender must feel. People would stop in and say "i saw your car out front and needed your smile"...I never knew what to do with that except smile my wierd smile and ask them what was going on. I never did ask how they knew which car was mine, maybe I should have. This isn't the kind of stuff that you tell people outside of that moment, it sounds like you're bragging, which I'm not. It always humbled me greatly that anyone would seek out my presence for comfort in that way.
So, that sunk in a bit.
And I began to hurt.
Last night, the man came in to pick up those cupcakes. We'd wrapped them up all pretty and he was nervous and excited. We said congratulations and sent him out the door, and then looked at each other, again realizing that we had knowledge of something very intimate to his life that he still did not know.
After that, the owner of the shop came in and gave the final news. We had a talk, and later, when my young coworker returned, I broke the news to her. I needed to do the same today for one of the decorators, and find myself in the position of stalwart comforter, steady thinker, calm influence, talker off of the ledge person, look at the bright spots in the rainbow, not the clouds, etc etc etc.
But my heart is breaking.
It has been doomed due to many different things, as I said. And my plan has been to leave, move.
But the people. What we've all shared.
Ah well. Such is life.
I suppose.
I will miss these opportunities.
We have a week. Doing big blowout creations all week, to use the product up, to enjoy ourselves. And next Saturday, the 21st, the first day of Winter and the last day of The Monkey, it will be one big party at work. Some of us will drift off and away. Others will stay close. It truly is life. Just like that. And my heart will heal.
As an addition, one that added to my emotion on seeing the photos for the first time...Piano Man, by Billy Joel, began to play in the shop. Right on cue.
yeah.
Oh.
It's a girl.
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