The Cupcake Trenches
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.