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When one has too much time on your hands, as I did a few weeks ago, unemployed and overwrought in NYC, one might write a letter to a radio show. Robert Siegel from NPR read a letter I had written to "All Things Considered" on the air. You're welcome to give it a listen. Peace Out.
There, I said it. I work with cupcakes, and not the kind that wear skirts.
Yesterday, at the cupcake mines, I iced, boxed, decorated, and hand-delivered thousands of cupcakes. While we closed the store for an hour, people were milling about in front of the door and windows. I was reminded of the movie "28 days" and the scene in which the protagonist has decided that the only place that could save him would be his neighborhood pub. There were people out there with crazy eyes and all they wanted were our cupcakes. They were people with jobs, families, husbands and wives, large sweatered dogs, even, but, for that space of an hour, nothing could be as important as what we had behind the glass, in the cases, in our very hands. I tried to stay back from the windows and not make eye contact with anyone. I wouldn't have made eye contact with Brad Pitt if he were there. And he definitely wouldn't have gotten a cupcake.
As I left for home, box of cake in hand for my husband, the line was beginning to curl out the door and around the block. I felt smug knowing that my piece of was one of only 15 available such pieces in the entire island of Manhattan.
I know I shouldn't blog about my work and I won't tell you what my work actually is except that it isn't in Pittsburgh anymore and I stand up a lot and get my arms dirty. That said, I will willfully recount an actual phone conversation in the 212 area code with noun and place substitutions.
Me: Hi!
Caller: Hi! I'm calling from St. Louis and I was wondering if I could order a delivery?
Me: In new york?
Caller: Yes. Can you deliver three petit fours to the east village today?
Me: Well, we're not taking any more delivery orders today, and there's a $30 delivery charge.
Caller: But it's my friend's birthday and it's like three blocks away!
Me: I'm sorry, but we're already booked for deliveries.
Caller: But it's IN the east village!
Me: Do you have someone who could pick them up for you?
Caller: That would spoil the surprise and I'm in St. Louis!
Me: I'm sorry, we really can't.
Caller: Please!? You're so close!
Me: Nope.
[click]